Girlfriend Meets My Ponyboy!

 My Girlfriends Herd!

Annabelle, or Booby as she was now called, was frantic. Absolutely frantic or at least as agitated and animated as a person could be when they are strapped securely to a bench. In one sense, it was almost funny watching her pathetic and futile struggles or would have been if it hadn’t been for the shocking, no, horrific reasons for her terrified animation! A perfectly understandable reaction under the circumstances. I mean, if I was feeling somewhat shocked and decidedly squeamish about the whole process, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on in her mind!

Despite the fact that the latent sadistic side of my nature that had blossomed and flourished so much in the past year, real ‘blood and guts’ style cruelty held no appeal. Pictures and stories of real torture, such as the gruesome horrors perpetrated by the infamous Spanish Inquisition, had never turned me on. I remember being scared stiff as a kid in the ‘chamber of horrors’ during a school visit to London when the class visited the famous waxworks, Madam Tussauds!

I’d used my nasty collection of punishment toys almost daily, as did my girlfriend. We whipped, cropped, paddled and caned with sadistic glee, and any scruples in respect of our actions upon our helpless victims had long since disappeared. Even when handling and grooming them, we would slap and abuse them, and of course, every horrible aspect of their appalling lives was down to that mixture of eroticism and blatant cruelty.

However, cruel and sadistic as we were, we did not chop our victims into pieces, boil them in oil, stand them in burning fires, crush feet with the infamous screw boot or rip limbs from their sockets on the fearsome rack. One of Trixie’s savage whippings compared to those excesses was a comparatively mild punishment. I wondered if those long-dead zealous priests and monks ever got a hard-on doing what they did like me when I played or watched my sexy little girlfriend enjoying herself.

What about black-robed nuns? Some of them undoubtedly played their part in seeking out and questioning dangerous heretics and the like. Did any of them achieve orgasm simply by whipping and tormenting a helpless victim as Trixie frequently did? Surely some of them must have!

Regarding confessions, I will admit watching Trixie at work that morning was causing me more than a few pangs of conscience, and indeed, that reference to the Inquisition's cruelty was very much in my mind. I’d never been in favour of the idea of today’s entertainment and now was feeling decidedly queasy and uncomfortable about the whole damn business. I comforted myself with the thought that at least it would soon be over.

Over at least for Trixie and me but not for our herd! Trixie had introduced that term when referring to our livestock collection. Indeed, for those unfortunate, even after today’s shock, pain, and horror had diminished, the results of my nasty little girlfriend’s handiwork would probably endure until the day they died! That fact was a sobering thought on its own. Add that to the enormity of what I had, what we had both done and would continue to do, I knew for the months and years to come!

The contrasts also struck me in the cruel spectacle taking place before me. The beautiful anguished girl, so utterly helpless as she watched and waited, knowing her turn was but minutes away. Trixie, of course, had deliberately left her gorgeous filly till last; what else? I still had no idea what the poor creature had done to so upset and antagonise Trixie in the past. Still, whatever transgressions, real or imaginary, she’d committed, she was certainly paying for it now every day. Paying a thousand-fold and more plus this latest bill would come with a premium price tag, both in permanency and pain-wise!

I was also struck by the contrasts in the disturbing playlet being played out before me.  The innocent and the guilty, the mundane and the unique, the good and the, no, that was incorrect. There was no good, was there? Only the bad! Likewise, I could hardly apply the innocence tag to Trixie any longer, could I? Somehow, that word had often come to mind when I viewed her. The diminutive, cute, big blue-eyed, honey blonde butter wouldn’t dare melt in her mouth little beauty. As if!

Trixie had even dressed for the ‘special’ occasion or at least added to her usual lack of attire when doing something wicked to our captives. Her abbreviated shorts had given way to a pair of skin-tight, hipster pants with a wide leather belt, and her upper body was covered for once by a checkered cotton shirt knotted around her midriff. The western theme being further complimented by a pair of tan cowboy-style calf boots and the cowboy-like hat she was wearing.

Calamity Jane, I’d called her as she was setting up and told her all she needed was a gun belt. She had replied that she had once seen a movie about that character, and as she recalled, most of the time, the heroine relied on a long bullwhip. She’d grumbled that she didn’t as yet have one of those, but a pretty damn good set of shorter alternatives was readily available!

The western theme returned to me as I watched her getting ready to do unto poor Booby as she’d done to the other two. A terrestrial TV channel had recently shown the famous ‘Man with no name’ Sergio Leone movie trilogy, and I’d watched all three - yet again! The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. That title came back to me now; perhaps we did have a good after all!

The candidate for that title was the wide-eyed, terrified one I was looking at, tightly strapped and tied down to the punishment bench, desperately trying to say or scream something despite the red ball in her mouth! I wondered what she might say should Trixie have allowed her that privilege. The last words of the condemned? Having watched the earlier examples, she must know that nothing she could say would change what would happen.

Trixie had added extra straps to ensure that the girl couldn’t move and spoil her cruel handiwork at the crucial moment. Having seen her three stablemates already suffer such agonising torment, her desperate, futile struggles and horrified staring eyes were understandable!

The Ugly was easy. That was lightly smoking and glowing a smoking orange a few yards away atop a simple circular family barbecue. A doorstep purchase along with a few bags of charcoal and a gas bottle from someone in the local village who’d been having a yard sale. Trixie had spotted it driving back from the supermarket, and we had even used it several times for its intended purpose.

A perfectly innocent purchase, or so I had assumed initially. As I said, we’d tried it out. Trixie had promptly demonstrated her customary culinary inabilities by ruining two excellent steaks and shown why sausages are often called ‘bangers’ in England. I didn’t think they did that anymore with the newer skins, but somehow, she managed to get several to quietly explode out of said skins on their way to imitating the glowing charcoal in taste and texture!

Her primary purpose in buying the barbecue became apparent when I returned from the village post office a fortnight later, puzzled by a long thin box from the USA. My place is so far down the proverbial ‘beaten track’ that we collect post and stuff from the parcel delivery companies at the village post office. An arrangement that might otherwise have been a nuisance had we not had certain pertinent ongoing security concerns. Less was more so far as unwanted visitors and deliveries went!

Trixie had enthusiastically pounced on the package ripping the box apart in her usual destructive way to reveal the ‘ugly’ in the form of a branding iron. A genuine western ranch-style branding iron made by a company in Texas! “Only a small one”, she said, waving the thing at me. “I tried to find one in the UK but couldn’t, so I had to go elsewhere. It wasn’t too expensive,” she admitted in a tone I knew only too well. When things were not too expensive, the little bitch had nudged my credit card balance a few steps nearer its limit!

Small, she emphasised poking various inanimate objects with the thing because the business end had to be substantially smaller than those used on livestock, cattle, horses, etc. Those were designed to be read at a distance upon much larger animals, so she informed me, suddenly a font of knowledge on the subject adding what she evidently considered a clincher, that I’d never seen a movie cowboy wearing glasses, had I?’

Of course, we’d immediately had a big argument about it! Me fighting on three fronts. I’d had no warning, no discussion about her cruel intentions, had I? The design of the horrible thing featured a capital T set in a heart-shaped frame, so where was my initial? What would she do if something went horribly wrong? What then? A couple of band-aids wasn’t likely to solve the problem, would it?

By the time we’d kissed and made up in my big bed later, and a lot of Trixie’s persuasive kissing hadn’t been directed at my lips, I’d abandoned the fight. I invariably did once those pretty pink little lips, and teasing tongue went enthusiastically to work! Right plus, common sense might have been on my side, but she had such sensually compelling counterarguments available on her side!

I glanced at Tink in his stall, wondering what he was thinking and if he was remembering the agony or, in his case, agonies of a week or so ago. Probably didn’t need to, for the pain was still ongoing, for three of the marks were still livid and nasty looking as they slowly healed despite Trixie’s thrice daily dabbing of antiseptic lotion on them and the other two.

Now that action, I thought,  was about as bizarre a contrast in behaviour as you could possibly find! Loath to mess up on her own filly nor the two ‘extras’ as she called them because of their age, Tink had drawn the short straw. Or, in this case, the hot iron. The fact that the animal was technically mine was beside the point, an irrelevance in her nasty little mind, and she needed to practice on something. Her consideration for the poor creature in the aftermath was purely practical. I knew that Trixie was not primarily concerned with easing its suffering in the short term. She was interested in ensuring that the wretched beast would be available to her whips and dildos for a long time!

A couple of days after I brought back the iron, our yard stank of roast or, perhaps more aptly, burnt pork for a day, courtesy of the carcass of half a pig she’d acquired from a local farmer. Time after time, she heated that iron and then, with her pretty face screwed up in concentration, applied it to the carcass. The pig didn’t mind, it was dead, but Tink wasn’t, nor at all happy when she strapped him down as the blank canvass for her final exam, as it were!

I’d almost thought she was joking when I’d first watched her rip the wrapping off the damn thing and wave it around. She wasn’t, and I watched as the callous little bitch applied that glowing symbol of her ownership to poor Tink, three times on one thigh and twice on the other. Trixie had considered where she wanted her brand on our ‘livestock’ and concluded that high on the right thigh was her preferred option. The rump was tempting, but how visible would it be given what she frequently did to their rumps with our toy collection? The whole thing was horrible, but I was amused by how seriously she’d pondered the issue and how important it was to her. “I want to see my mark on it, Sweetie. If it’s all spoiled or covered with whip marks and bruises, I won’t enjoy it so much, will I?”

Likewise, I was amused by her concern for Tink post branding. I’d never seen her so solicitous with him as she gently dabbed his burns with a cotton swab soaked in that special liquid she’d obtained. She even sounded genuine, murmuring those comforting words of sympathy and endearment while gently dabbing—so that this time I had to force myself to ignore that urge to have a little chat with him. Given what she’d done to him, how did he feel about her sudden tenderness? 

However, I resisted the impulse. Anyway, I had previous experience of what Tink had to say about his treatment in the early days of his captivity before Trixie entered the picture. That had been tedious, repetitive, frequently vile and, of course, completely pointless! Different mindsets, I supposed.  Did the silly beast really think I was going to forego the exquisite pleasure of torturing and fucking my splendid new sex toy? Besides, Trixie would have objected most strongly to me giving the animal a voice after the lessons we’d both ruthlessly enforced in silence!

Her concern for once was genuine as well, the bitch. As I said, she had other selfish interests to consider. Bizarre, given that the same hand doing the gentle dabbing was the one that had pressed the glowing iron against his helpless hide! I wondered if she was as curious as to what Tink felt about it as he writhed under her tender would-be healing touches.

She had seemed happy after the third one sizzled into his hide, examining it while Tink lay momentarily unconscious as he had done after the first two. Then I saw her reach for the smelling salts again. “Not too bad, quite crisp and defined that last one”. Not the best choice of words, I felt, given that horrible smell floating about in the air. “One more for a final practice on the left and then his main one high up on the right, I think”.

I’d suggested that she do it while he was happily out for the count, less chance of something going wrong nodding at the smelling salts, but she shook her head. ‘Nope, I want him wide awake. I mean, I’m only going to be doing Booby and the other two once, and they won’t be out cold, will they? Practise makes perfect, Honey!’ she had smiled and started wafting the open bottle under Tink’s nose and patting his cheeks.

 I made a mental note to remind myself to stuff my ears with cotton wool or buy foam earplugs when she did the others. Trixie had decided to leave Tink's mouth free when she applied the heat treatment, less to hear him scream for once and more to allow him that safety valve, as she’d termed it. ‘It will hurt a little bit, I expect!’ Full marks for making the understatement of the year, of the decade even!

*****

I realise that I have somewhat jumped the gun with my rather dramatic, unpleasant introduction. If you recall, I’d blamed everything other than my acquisition of Tinky on the ‘Kung flu’. I sometimes wonder how things would have worked out had we never had the wretched Covid epidemic. Would Trixie have made that decision to move in full-time with me? That seemed to be the catalyst from which everything else developed and, for a brief time, evolved way too fast for my peace of mind!

Talk about sailing rapidly into dangerous waters. No sooner had I thought things were starting to settle down nicely for the three of us. Trixie, myself and the captive beast in the barn when my enthusiastic little girlfriend promptly decided to steer us straight over a whole reef of potential shoals without a chart in sight!

Maybe she would have moved in with me once she discovered what I kept in the old stable covid or no covid. However, if my audacious snatching of Tinky had been a bit risky, that was nothing to the brazen accomplishments of my smug little partner in crime. Perhaps I had been too self-satisfied at my ponyboy snatch and not been shy of mentioning it a few times too many! Something I could no longer do now she had numbers on her side!

Trixie had been living with me for nearly three months when I had to go to London for a couple of days to see my solicitor and financial advisor. A few tedious but necessary monetary matters needed to be discussed in person and papers duly signed and witnessed. So much for the age of communicative technology! I’d inherited my sizeable pile from my deceased parents, and like most people, I used money but had no idea how it worked!

It then transpired that a personal visit to another bank and another firm of solicitors along with assorted other city financial types was required. Then add in a key person being sick, and my two-day sojourn turned into five dull days in the capital. It was the first time I had been away from Trixie since she’d parked herself on me. Even longer, so far as Tinky went, I wasn’t used to such abstinence. It had been a long time since I’d had to utilise the services of five-finger Mary to relieve a certain stiffness down below every evening! Hell, maybe it wasn’t just the unexpected opportunity of fulfilling a wishful fantasy that had made me grab the beast but a subliminal instinct to provide a 24/7 outlet for my rampant sex drive!

Thus, I was a little out of sorts, as my mother would have put it and not in the best of tempers when I pulled up in the farmyard that Saturday afternoon. Five and half days in and out of stuffy offices, and banks, via the London underground where air conditioning in most of the network was wishful thinking! Throw in a noisy hotel full of Japanese tourists making up for lost time now the country was open again. Then to cap it all, my car had been clamped for overstaying at the small railway station car park, followed by a ninety-minute wait plus parting with fifty quid to get it released. I’d been sorely tempted to argue the toss with the inarticulate grunting moron who turned up to remove the device. He’d introduced himself as Eric, Big Eric, but on reflection, he had right, probably the law and the height and muscles on his side!

As you can imagine, my mood was not the best when I spotted the thin plume of smoke from a couple of hundred yards away and wondered what it was. A sudden panic! My little corner of the world was somewhat remote; consequently, fire was something of a worry to me. I was all electric or gas via propane cylinders and would be toast long before the local fire brigade even discovered the inconspicuous turn-off that led to the track down to my place. Consequently, I rarely lit bonfires like the one Trixie was hovering over as I pulled up next to the third-hand Porsche I’d bought her years ago.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded, leaping out. I’d been looking forward to doing something else on my return, and the hassle of getting my car released had only increased my buddy down below’s anticipation. He’d started twitching the nearer home I got. Poking something had been high on my homecoming agenda, but not in that fashion! Not casually poking a raging bonfire causally with a long smouldering stick as Trixie was doing!

“What the fuck!” I repeated as I joined her. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, and look how close you are to the house, you little idiot!”

Trixie’s response was to shrug her shoulders indifferently. She didn’t even bother to look up from where she was crouching. “Hi Honey, good trip?” Was her calm response.

“Good trip…!” I fumed. “Just what the hell are you doing, and Jesus!” I spotted a red petrol can with an open spout just a couple of yards away from the conflagration and promptly leapt for it, removing it to a safe distance and screwing the cap back down.

“That’s okay, Honey”, Trixie called, finally looking up, “I don’t think I need it anymore now it's going so well. But I thought it best to get all this stuff out of the way quickly!”

Fuck it, I thought furiously as I returned. The little bitch sounds almost proud of herself. Another ten minutes, and I’ll bet she would have burned house, barn and everything else down! I recognised that tone of voice and experience of my volatile little girlfriend's many moods caused me to moderate my initial anger.

I gestured to the fire, which appeared to be consuming a mix of old clothing and scrap wood from our recently decluttering of the old barn. “Why, why now and what is so damn urgent?”

Trixie still didn’t bother to look up but reached into a large green bag I hadn’t noticed, pulled a bundle of clothing out of it, gave it a cursory look, tossed it onto her fire, and pushed it down with her long burning stick. I noticed a second identical bag lying flat next to the first and realised they were both medium-sized nylon backpacks. I didn’t know why but a sudden spasm of cold fear savagely nipped my innards at that point.

“What the hell gives?”

This time she did look up and flashed me that beaming mischievous smile of hers, the one that all too often meant she was either planning some devilry or, worse, had recently done something questionable. This time it was to be the latter with bells on. Big fucking church tower-sized bells!

“Oh, just getting rid of the Bobble hats stuff, sweetie. I thought better to do it this way than add it to the rubbish bags.” She pulled a face and said petulantly, “You’re back early. I thought you said on the phone the other night it looked like taking at least a week!”

I gritted my teeth, a nasty suspicion forming. “Who or what are bobble hats?” I growled.

“New livestock, of course, Honey”, was the indifferent reply as a small hand hovered between backpacks; then, making up her mind, she picked up both and tossed them onto the blaze. “There, all gone or soon will be. Don’t look like that, Honey. Don’t take it out on me just because you’ve had a horrible boring week” A small hand gestured. “Why don’t you go to the barn and say hi to Mr and Mrs Bobble hat, oh and the other addition, of course”.

That innocent yet devilish smile was repeated full blast, and then she turned back to the stinking fire. She resumed poking at what I realised were a couple of smoking, blackened part burnt walking boots presumably responsible for that horrible smell. That childlike, naive innocence didn’t fool me for one moment. Trixie was a highly intelligent and capable young woman who’d held down a very responsible job. Now, although she was ‘working from home, my home’ and had gone part-time, that didn’t mean she’d suddenly gone gaga, the scheming little bitch! I looked hard at those boots, or did it?

‘Other one?’ Her words finally registered as I scowled down at her back for a second, still seething with unanswered questions that evidently she wasn’t about to answer. I moved in the direction that dainty hand had indicated and into the open barn. As usual, she’d left the lights on, pure idleness and wanton wastefulness on her part, not out of consideration for our resident ponyboy. What difference did it make to him, whether the lights were on or off! I mean, it wasn’t as if the animal was in a position to read today's newspaper or the latest best-seller, was it?

My amusement at that thought instantly curtailed as sounds and movements caught my attention over to the right. A pair of big eyes stared pleadingly at me, and a torrent of muted sounds emerged from behind a gagged mouth. A long mane of glossy auburn hair hung down, almost touching the floor from the head of a struggling figure strapped face down to our new flogging bench that had replaced my original makeshift one!

I paused for a second, then took a couple of steps nearer, a suspicion forming in my mind as those watery tear-filled eyes fixed upon me with their silent, desperate plea. It was a long and shapely figure strapped to the bench. Long meant tall and that bottom! If ever a big quivering white rump was made to feel the taste of leather, that was it and judging by the fresh bruises and bleeding welts it already had, savagely!

I took one more step, which was all I needed. I’d only met the girl that one time when reluctantly accompanying Trixie to her annual office party. My girlfriend had mentioned her enough times and never in complementary terms, probably because the tall willowy girl was a gorgeous cock tempting, but haughty fuck bunny! Face apart, she possessed everything my petite girlfriend lacked in generous portions. Height, hair length, endless legs, sizeable boobs and wide hips!

I knew not why Trixie harboured such a vitriolic hatred of Annabelle. Maybe it was because she was some years older, approaching her thirtieth birthday, or because she’d been a successful model in both fashion and the more upmarket glossy men’s magazines in her youth. Maybe it was because her male companions tended to be minor names from the world of sport or show business. Perhaps the woman, for she was that rather than girl, had once rejected Trixie’s predatory bisexual advances? Maybe a combination of all, some or none! Whatever, either wittingly or in total innocence, she’d crossed some red line! Trixie generally referred to her through clenched teeth. However, strangely she’d also developed a casual, on the surface, work-based friendship with the woman or rather the unfortunate woman had with her.

I suppose that I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. Trixie had mentioned the woman that afternoon right after she’d enjoyed her first sole session with Tinky. She’d been as aroused as fuck once she’d got over her initial amazement at what I was kept captive in the barn. I recalled all those vague references and hints she’d been dropping for months. I suspected poor Annabelle had been doomed from when Trixie laid the first stroke of her whip across Tinky’s helpless rump!

We shared one of those long moments that seem endless but aren’t. I stared at Annabelle, and she stared back at me. The light of hope quickly faded in her eyes as I stood there, making not the slightest effort to help her nor displaying any sign of surprise or shock at her predicament. My mind wasn’t even concentrating on her other than as an object to absently focus upon. Additional and far more critical considerations were front and centre so far as my little grey cells were concerned. When, how and what possible consequences? Just what had that little idiot blithely burning clothing outside done to us, done to me!

It was more a feeling almost immediately confirmed as Trixie’s shout drifted through the open door. “Hey, Honey, don’t go getting any ideas. I know how randy you’ll be feeling after a few days away, and you know what I’d do to you if you tried dipping it in other than an approved pond!” I grinned even though I knew the possessive little madam would do it too! Nor was it the first time she’d made that threat. I had thought of maybe calling up a glamorous escort for a few hours, I could easily afford it after all, but somehow that threat of hers lingered. Plus, I was also curious. I hadn’t abstained for five days since I’d acquired Tink, so it might be interesting to see how I exploded into his tight hole if Trixie didn’t claim me first!

As I said, it was precisely at that moment that I became aware of just how deep that fucking hole Trixie had dug for us had become. A mix of the conscious and sub-conscious coming together in an almighty wham bang of a jolt. There was no crash, no noise, and yet in that brief moment, I could sympathise with Captain, whatever his name was, rushing to the bridge of the Titanic. I don’t know if he caught a glimpse of the iceberg as he began to fully comprehend the situation his watch officer, lookouts, and sheer bad luck had brought upon him. Annabelle was not alone in the old stable; I didn’t mean Tinky either!

Bobble hats! Trixie had been burning boots, boots plural as in two pairs, nor was it the sort of footwear I would have associated with the stylish fashion-conscious Annabelle. I realised that the woman stretched upon the bench was not the only one in the barn making muted noises to attract my attention! I turned slowly, almost fearfully, my eyes passing over a silent bitted Tinky gazing balefully at me from his stall to the empty one next to him. I switched back to Tink, pausing for a second as my best buddy gave a sudden anticipatory twitch, then around to the two stalls facing him. The two nearest the big entrance doors on the opposite side of the barn. Both were now occupied!

*****   

To my surprise, Trixie had vetoed my suggestion of getting the builders to renovate the old building in tandem with the construction of the new barn, stroke mini aircraft hangar as I called it! Tinky had enjoyed a higher standard of living for a short period in the rarely used old dining room of my big farmhouse while the builders were on site. The downside offsetting any comfort benefits by his proximity and instant availability to Trixie, but at least with so many strangers around, she curbed her habit of removing his bit during their painful daytime play sessions!

I thought my fastidious little girlfriend would have welcomed the opportunity to refurbish the old building and apply a few fresh coats of paint, but no. She liked the aged, run-down appearance of neglect, decay and dust. The thick cobwebs in all the corners and that dank, musty atmosphere that she said complimented the growing newer aroma of captive ponyboy and sweaty harness leather.

Given that the construction team were going to store tools and some other stuff there, we moved all our toys and other incriminating evidence out along with Tinky. ‘He may be getting a bit of a holiday, Trixie had said, carrying an armful of punishment implements across the yard, but I don’t see why he should enjoy it!’ He didn’t, of course! Trixie can devote and expend vast amounts of energy and enthusiasm to one thing and then pull up abruptly at the very next fence, so to speak.

The new barn built on the empty land and directly abutting the rear doors of the old stable had been purchased after a few weeks of nonstop nagging by Trixie, no pun intended. We need real space to train Tink had been her argument rather than the limited area we had in the old barn come stable. Expensive, but I could easily afford it, plus the mental image I had of some of her training ideas for him definitely hit my voyeuristic button!

While the old stable was left more or less retaining the same appearance and ambience, we cleared out a vast quantity of accumulated junk that went way back a century at least! The new building going up meant we no longer needed the extra elbow room. Still, it did uncover and release the other three old animal stalls while improving the general interior, although that at the time was purely incidental. This was the ‘fence’ Trixie baulked at due to how much extra work it entailed, and she took her pique out on poor Tinky once the builders had departed, usually before she’d even changed or showered away the day's accumulated layer of filth!

*****

Trixie wasn’t inclined to be apologetic even after an hour of heated debate in the big farmhouse kitchen. Quite the contrary, in fact. My little madam was proud of herself and more than a little put out that I wasn’t generously dishing out great dollops of the respect and praise she seemed to think she deserved.

Annabelle’s removal from the wild, as it were, had long been in her mind while she hadn’t precisely stalked her prey, Trixie wasn’t a fool, and she’d taken every precaution she could think of when abducting her target. Come to that, it was hardly an abduction. None of that jumping out of the shadows with a bundle of cloth soaked in chloroform or whatever. The silly bitch had even come voluntarily, although for an entirely different reason!

A cell phone to cell phone call and a request for help in preparing some papers for the annual report had led to the acceptance of an invitation to visit. Annabelle was also working from home, living in the country in a rented cottage just far enough outside a sleepy little village to count as being completely isolated. She was living alone after her last breakup, and as she’d confided to Trixie, intending to keep her long shapely legs tightly closed for the foreseeable future after her previous disastrous foray into the mating game!

Trixie had chuckled when she recounted that particular titbit saying she hoped her new filly had a good memory because it would be a long time, a very long time, if ever before she had another orgasm that way! Not unless she got off by having her fat ass fucked regularly by bigger and bigger dildoes or roasted under her new owner's whip! Trixie had added with another wicked laugh, early days, but she’d seen no indication of delight in the big mare at either activity so far!

I wouldn’t say I liked it, but I could accept Annabelle somewhat reluctantly. I knew the little bitch had laid her plans carefully, and given her pedantic organised fusspot nature, I doubted there would be any repercussions. No sooner had Trixie arrived at Annabelle's place than she admitted to being a total fool and had left half the documents needed behind. To save time, why didn’t Annabelle come back with her, and they could do the work at my place, stay the night even as I was away on business? As I’d discovered on many occasions, Trixie could be very persuasive.

Persuasive and determined. Thus, Annabelle was safely secured, occupying the stall next to Tinky a few hours later while her new owner removed her desktop pc, tv, jewellery and other valuables from her cottage. The woman's laptop and cellphone already awaiting disposal on my kitchen table. Trixie wore gloves, broke a scullery window with a convenient catch to hand, allowing access for an imaginary intruder, ransacked the drawers and cupboards and left the local rural police with an enigma on their hands. A simple burglary that had taken a far more sinister turn, perhaps?

“Suppose she’d told someone at work you were coming”, I’d protested. “Or some friend or relative?”

“All dead, I think, Sweetie, and she doesn't have any real friends, too stuck up, not the type that's why she was so eager for me to visit. I’m pretty sure I was the only confident she had. Anyway, I asked her while we were having a coffee just after I arrived. " Trixie had giggled at that point. " I'd asked her not to tell anyone I was coming because I would be a bit embarrassed to have asked her help with the problem I was having. The silly stuck-up cow went a bundle on that one, I'll bet! Anyway, Honey, what’s the big deal? I mean, she walked through that door just as willingly as Tink did, so why the fuss! Nobody’s going to find her!"

I wasn't at all happy, but I gave way on Annabelle. I had to trust her on that one. I'm no reader of detective novels nor a lover of crime drama, but I knew there was no such thing as the perfect crime. Then again, thinking of the creature I'd had stabled in the barn for nearly six months, who was I to talk? The two ‘bobble hats’, as she called them, were an entirely different matter!

I'd stood transfixed, staring at the other two stalls while two pairs of eyes stared right back at me. Older eyes that had lost the sparkle of youth yet stared at me with bulging horror, incredulous disbelieving eyes, pleading eyes. That same look I’d see so many times on Tink’s face until that day he’d accepted he wouldn’t be returning to the wild anytime soon. Eyes that radiated a dozen or more other emotions and questions and expected me to provide them with both answers and instant release from the restraints that bound the pair.

Those two stalls should have been empty, not occupied. I’d slaved for days to clear all that accumulated rubbish out and create a feeling of space in the old stable, de-junk it, remove aeons of clutter, and so forth. I hadn’t done all that so that Trixie could immediately fill the space with two more captive occupants. Two for Christ's sake, and far more importantly, at what cost to our safety and security?

My nostrils twitched as a waft of smoke billowed through the open door, bringing in a stench of burning rubber and other obnoxious smells. Jesus, I muttered to myself again. What had the silly little cunt done to us now? Two, for Pete’s sake, two! I turned my head slightly and looked at Annabelle. No, make that three, the crazy little bitch! My little buddy down below didn’t seem as worried about the situation as I was, and I looked at Tink, wondering if I’d ever fuck the animal again. Would he ever bounce back and forth on that bench as once again I proved my absolute mastery over him in the most humiliating way? Why couldn’t the silly little bitch have left the situation alone?

In my mind, I could already hear the screaming sirens as half the blue-suited local constabulary in the county arrived to arrest the pair of us. I even subconsciously cocked an ear toward the narrow lane that led down to my property. Could I hear them? No, the only thing I heard was the cackling of the fire outside, some passing bird calling out and then Trixie’s mild, “So what do you think of them, Honey?”

What did I think of them? I opened my mouth wide to tell her what I thought of them, to loudly spell out my exact feelings in large Anglo-Saxon capital letters, mainly forming the basis for a string of four-letter words as I answered that question. I resisted the urge, though, partly because I’d detected a slight worried hint of uncertainty in madams tone indicating that she wasn’t quite so cocksure in herself! Partly through something else, curiosity! Another slightly amusing thought also crossed my mind. ‘Not in front of the children!’ although, in our case, if we had a blazing row, it would be animals, wouldn’t it? Four of the fucking things now!

I eyed the struggling Annabelle thoughtfully, the tall, delectable girl I’d ogled a bit too obviously at that office party Trixie had insisted I attend. The only one the evening wearing a dress that might have been designed for her. That gorgeous long mane of hair and those delicious tits, udders, now all the more tempting for being on show, albeit already in a somewhat damaged condition. Crisscrossed with numerous livid red stripes! Those long, shapely legs made Trixie look almost like a dwarf beside her. Mind you, a perfectly formed and desirable dwarf, but still a little titch beside that statuesque beauty! I was conscious that regardless of what I thought about the crazy situation, my little or not-so-little buddy downstairs was still reacting positively to the whole situation!

Given the girl or woman was very much a ‘looker’ whether clothed or unclothed, that wasn’t much of a surprise, I thought. However, I already had a nasty suspicion recalling previous comments that perhaps Trixie might be somewhat territorial regarding her ownership of the beautiful beast! I turned back to the pair of ‘Bobble-hats’, presumably hikers or ex-hikers, since Trixie appeared to be cooking their boots! Lovers of the great outdoors, complete with silly woolly hats who’d somehow fallen foul of the idiotic little pyromancer, busily engaged in destroying all local evidence of their existence! What about non-local evidence, though?

The female half was dressed and harnessed pony fashion. I recognised Tinky’s first head harness and bridle along with his initial arm binder that had been put back into service. Likewise, the leather waist waspie style corset that had been in the first batch of pony kit Trixie had purchased and experimented with upon him. Nothing else yet other than a thick leather collar around her neck supporting the two chains tethering her within the stall. Simple stuff, but I knew from the months of owning Tinky that this aged mare wasn’t about to go anywhere unless one of us assisted the creature.

That was one thing that puzzled me. Aged mare was very apt for the creature or woman was at least the wrong side of forty! Not precisely fat, but definitely plump, so losing a few pounds would have been beneficial. Not that weight loss would have done all that much appearance-wise. Leg-wise, udder-wise, figure-wise, hair-wise and face-wise, she was no Annabelle, I decided as I approached for a closer and more intimate appraisal.

Lank thinning grey hair, a reddened wrinkling face that I doubted would have launched even a single ship in its youth, let alone the thousand or so that supposedly left for the Trojan war. Short of leg, big-bellied with oversized flattish sagging udders and similar fat rump, this was no Helen of Troy before me dazzling my eyes. Helga of Trogsville maybe, but no Greek goddess past or present! Not that Helen had been a goddess, had she, I mused, moving to the next stall.

I ignored all the muted sounds and watery begging eyes as a matter of course. Having enjoyed my captive ponyboy for over half a year, I was well immune to such foolish and pointless sounds and begging outraged eyes by now, and they barely registered. I was puzzled, and even more so as I moved on to her neighbour, Mister Bobble-hat, who I presumed was her husband. I rather got the impression that the old mare would not be the kind to have a ‘partner’ as such’, probably one of those types who regarded such natural arrangements out of conventional wedlock as ‘sinful!

I shuffled to the left a couple of paces, and if I was perplexed by Trixie’s evident desire to own that ugly middle-aged mare, then the stallion, if you could call it such, was an even greater puzzle. Stallion? A bloody clapped-out donkey would have been nearer the mark! Tinky, although no adonis was Mister Universe compared to this miserable middle-aged specimen, and why was he grovelling on his hands and knees in the dirt like that stark naked?

“What do you think of them then?” Trixie entered the stable, wiping a hand across her face, leaving a sooty mark. Given her sweaty face, tight rumpled top and tousled hair, my best buddy gave an almighty twitch. God, I just loved that ‘wild woman’ look when she worked herself up flogging Tinky, and that sooty streak added rather than detracted to her appearance. First things first, though.

A thought occurred to me. That old mare was wearing Tinks old kit, and given her size, it fitted her reasonably well. On the other hand, Annabelle would have been an entirely different matter, yet the woman was fully kitted out in gleaming pink leather from bridle to hoof boots on her long elegant legs. Trixie must have bought all that beforehand. She had made her mind up to grab the beast, hadn’t she?

I turned and looked back at Annabelle, ignoring that desperate pleading look and muted mutterings, then to the elderly mare and finally back to the creature grovelling beneath our gaze. I was about to ask the key question when Trixie preempted me.

“Because they kinda accidentally saw Tink and Booby,” she said and quickly added, “not entirely my fault!”.

“Boobie?” I queried.

“That big mare's new name”, Trixie jerked with her thumb towards Annabelle. “Those big udders of hers belong to me now, and the name seemed appropriate. The animal used to like flashing them to all and sundry once upon a time!”

“I don’t get you?”

Trixie shrugged. “It was just the same as when you got Tinky, okay? Totally out of the blue, unexpected! I’d been over here most of the morning making an impression on miss big tits when I decided to get a coffee.”

I began to see daylight. “No doubt forgetting to close the doors as I’ve often told you!”

Trixie had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t entirely my fault, Honey. I pushed them together, honest. Anyway, I just happened to look out of the window when I was rinsing my teaspoon under the tap, and there they were, the pair of them, bold as brass. Stable doors open, and both of them looking in. Maybe they opened them for some reason, or the wind did as they passed. Damn cheek anyway to go nosing about off the path and on our property!”

I was tempted to grin, for, despite her earlier apparent indifference, I knew the little bitch well enough to know that she wasn’t anywhere near to being as self-assured and confident as she’d pretended to be. My potential reaction worried her, and so it bloody well should, I thought.

“When?” I asked.

“Day before yesterday, but don’t worry, no one will come looking for them. Come on, I'll make you a coffee and fill you in on the details, then you can take that panicky look off your face!”

I resented that remark at the time as I was deliberately keeping my cool, but maybe I had been looking worried. Hell, I had good reason to, hadn’t I, what with my girlfriend casually admitting to kidnapping three people! I was expecting to hear those damn police sirens at any moment, even a helicopter or two. Did the SAS get involved in abductions?

Trixie could play it equally cool, though, and had realised at once that doing nothing might not be the most appropriate course of action to take given what they’d seen. Thus she’d adopted the same persuasive technique that I had used when Tinky turned up on my doorstep. Mr and Mrs Bobble hat should have done an immediate runner. Instead, Trixie had laughed when telling me they had actually stood in the doorway trying to talk to our two dumb and gagged captive animals. Idiots!

When they’d finally twigged that getting the hell out of Dodge might be a good idea, they’d turned only to find Trixie smiling sweetly at them along with my double-barrelled shotgun, and this time it was loaded. The building work must have disturbed something as we’d experienced a growing rat problem, and I'd taken to blasting the wretched things whenever the opportunity arose. Consequently, I kept a box of cartridges right by the gun.

Trixie hated the bloody rats even more than I did and had probably sent twice as many as me into oblivion, a real little Annie Oakley. Petite as she was, the recoil never seemed to bother her. I’d seen her nonchalantly fire the thing from the hip to great effect without being knocked backwards, so our two inquisitive visitors were perhaps on far thinner ice than they realised. She even let fly with one barrel into the dirt just in front of them to let them know she wasn’t playing games as she put it. Then calmly reloaded and herded the terrified twosome into the barn they really should have left well alone. Like Tinky before them, they soon found that lying down in the dirt with their hands behind their backs had been the final mistake. Not a good idea given what they’d already seen, and in a building with a ton of assorted ropes, straps and bits of harness tack readily to hand!

Trixie said two days ago, so I began to relax a little. I even grinned as she told me her story, imagining what the watching Tinky might have said to them had his mouth not been tightly bitted! Oh, how he must regret allowing himself to be cowed by that same shotgun. The difference was that it wasn’t even loaded when I’d forced him to the floor, unlike this time. Another thought struck me as Trixie was calmly telling me her tale.

Had it been loaded, and had he suddenly got free and resisted, would I have pulled the trigger? No, I decided, but Trixie? I chose not to ask because I suspected I already knew the answer. I doubted my cute little sadist would have risked losing her unrestricted access to Tink and now Anabelle or rather Boobie, no way!

Anyway, by the time I’d finished my second coffee and consumed one of her special cheese and onion toasted sandwiches that I’m very partial to, I was much happier in my mind regarding the other two over-curious animals we now housed. Another part of my brain was subconsciously looking at the positives as the situation began to sink in. I’d got away with acquiring one unique animal, which had been unbelievable, the sadistic fun and sexual satisfaction I’d had so far with Tink.

But four animals, four! That number kept floating around even as I listened to Trixie. Four of the captive fuckers to do whatever we wanted to them whenever we wanted. Four! The physical limitation was the main problem we’d encountered with Tink quite early on once Trixie had claimed joint ownership. It hadn’t been too bad when it had just been me and my ponyboy, but once Trixie joined in! Well, we could only beat him so much, couldn’t we? Fucking him, no big problem, but his body could only take so much of whip and cane, which was so annoying. Trixie found that aspect of our ownership particularly frustrating, but if we had four, Jeez!

Buttercup, as Trixie had named her because she looked like a mare who ought to be called Buttercup, had been very forthcoming when Trixie interrogated her. Her term, not mine, but it exactly suited the situation. As I’ve said before, Trixie might be impulsive but not stupid. Annabelle, or Boobie, as she was now named, got a reprieve and Buttercup took her place on the new punishment bench. Trixie had giggled, recalling that she was almost as much fun to strip as Boobie had been. Not quite as nice once the wrapping was off but still so much fun to the touch! Being very bisexual, Trixie had perhaps got a far bigger thrill out of stripping and handling them than I had that day with Tinky! As I recalled, there had only been one part of his anatomy I’d been primarily interested in!

Then she’d decided to resurrect my original bench and add Bozo to it. Because he’s going to be our new dog, she told me, justifying the name. Hardly pony star material, is he? She’d considered making him a pig but abandoned that idea because of the practical difficulties of accommodating him in the appropriate surroundings. I could see the porcine resemblance in his little piggy eyes and fat white body.

That’s exactly what I thought Trixie agreed when I pointed out that he was far more pig-like than canine because he was short and overweight and looked like he did. However, she was right about the accommodation. The old sty’s or what remained of them were uninhabitable even by our cruel standards and, more importantly, too near that dratted public footpath. Anyway, pigs were boring animals spending all day with their snouts in the dirt!

Whereas reincarnated in canine form, Bozo would be far more entertaining learning tricks, chasing balls and going walkies and doing his doggie business against the trees after dark along the path, Trixie had laughed, expanding on her ideas. Maybe we could even use him to chase the fucking rats once he’s shed some weight, she’d giggled! The stall was temporary until she found a suitable dog cage or kennel and the temporary bindings that kept him down on his hands and knees. Although she’s added with a nasty laugh, those will seem like luxury fittings compared to what she had in mind, long-term and permanent!

Then once she had them both stripped and secured, they’d all settled down to a nice long and very informative game of ‘questions and answers’. We had to go through all those silly preliminaries,  Trixie had sighed and then mimicked a high-pitched squeaky voice. ‘You can’t do this to us, and you’ll go to prison forever’, and all the other tedious verbal crap! After an amusing hour, well entertaining for Trixie, as she introduced them to one of her punishment paddles, they had seemed a little less sure. Not only could she do ‘this’ to them, but she was doing far worse!

Then when certain realisations were sinking in, and their bottoms were suitably warm and sore, she introduced them to the cane. The questioning continued, and the session became even noisier if she wasn’t happy with the required answers to her questions or any foolish reluctance. I can smell a fib a mile off Trixie had laughed.

The upshot was that Trixie’s instinct had been perfectly correct. Adding Bozo and Buttercup to our menagerie would not likely cause any complications. They’d been on a hiking holiday intermittently taking public transport and jumping off where ever a location took their fancy, travelling light and taking their chance on finding suitable accommodation in village pubs or guest houses. No doubt they’d be missed at some point, but there didn’t seem to be anything for us to worry about overmuch. Even less than the lovely Annabelle’s disappearance might cause!

They decided to hop off the bus a few miles back, mistaken the stop and then the track they wanted to follow, ultimately wandering down the country lane that turned into a public footpath just past our place that ran down to the river bank. They’d been a good ten miles adrift of their intended route, met no one, seen no one and not been expected anywhere.  Their silly faces might appear briefly in the newspapers in a few weeks but only for a day or so, by which time they bore little resemblance to their respective photos, not that we expected anyone to be viewing them!

Naturally, Trixie being Trixie, her questions had become far more personal once she’d satisfied herself that her captives posed no immediate threat to our security nor risk of being actively sought in the local area by the authorities. Neither of them seemed to have had the wit to make up a story or say things that might have saved them, or perhaps Trixie’s boast about spotting fibs had proved correct!

One cell phone between them and just a few more swats with her paddle, and she had the entry code. Ex-income tax officials very early retired thanks to inherited money and generous voluntary redundancy packages and pensions. No kids, no parents, and a very sparse contacts list on the phone, mostly business and medical. If they had any friends, then they never phoned them!

Several applications of the cane later, and she also knew that Buttercup hadn’t allowed Bozo ‘visiting privileges’ through her front door in a dozen years and that both unsurprisingly had intact backdoors so far as incoming traffic went! Typical Trixie-style questions, I thought, once she’d satisfied herself with the security basics. I wonder what the Bobble hats had thought about that line of intimate questioning? Presumably, they knew by now, having heard or seen Trixie amusing herself with Boobie!

Then what I’d enquired grumpily. It sounds like you had yourself quite a party without me, so what happened next? I was considerably surprised, not to mention suspicious, knowing her. How randy that little interrogation session must have made her, when she smiled sweetly, kissed me and said nothing, absolutely nothing happened next, then kissed me again. I wanted to wait for you, of course, Sweetie. I’m not that selfish. Anyway, fun shared is fun squared!

Knowing Trixie, that statement had surprised me on several fronts. The bitch was that selfish, plus her enthusiasm for the perverse and sadistic had expanded considerably since that afternoon when she’d first place a hesitant little hand upon Tink’s brutalised rump. Hell, that was an understatement if ever there was one! It hadn’t even taken half a day for her conversion, had it? My favourite little Miss ticked all the right boxes for employment by that Spanish inquisition guy, Torqu…something by the time she straddled me and rode my big buddy for the second session that day! If my ponyboy had thought life was terrible before her arrival? I even remembered feeling slightly sorry for the poor bastard, knowing she'd want much more once she’d sampled him! That was further verified as she rode the pair of us to a massive orgasmic climax!

Trixie had decided to await my homecoming. ‘After all, I had Boobie to play with, hadn’t I’ she’d said and added, ‘ and she was brand new, fresh out of the box! I just tacked up Butterfly with what I had to hand and added a few ropes to keep Bozo in his lowly place, then popped them into new homes with a few encouraging pats’, she’d giggled.  At that point, I decided that I had missed her, missed her a lot and that perhaps….but as I reached for her, she promptly skipped out of the way, giggling even more and waving a finger negatively, she had other and more interesting plans for later!

*****

It was early evening, and we were back in the old stable, my mood decidedly different to what it had been earlier. Trixie’s intriguing explanations and a decent little meal she’d knocked up, admittedly with the aid of the microwave, had helped. Naturally mostly from frozen ready-cooked items but still pretty darn good by her standards’ Throw in the better part of an expensive bottle of wine, and the mellowing process was almost complete, and we hadn’t even fucked. Later, Sweetie,  if we still have the strength, Trixie had laughed and winked. By we, I knew she meant me!

Standing in the doorway looking at our herd as Trixie had described them, I felt decidedly, what's a good word? Proprietorial maybe! Our herd and she’d been more serious than joking when she’d said that, hadn’t she? Owning Tinky had been such a humongous turn-on for the pair of us but now four! Jeez, four such captive animals, it was only starting to sink in! Okay, so two of them weren’t up to much appearance-wise, but as Trixie had casually observed while dishing out the mushroom rice, that old saying was very true. Did you give a damn what the mantlepiece looked like while poking the fire or paddling ass, for that matter? They’d both scream or wriggle as delightfully as Tinky, and that’s what counted!

Trixie had also made something abundantly clear: only three of our animals were available to me. The fourth, Boobie, belonged to her and her alone, and she would be very unhappy if I ever forgot that fact. Very unhappy indeed, she had emphasised, and the fact that she had a very sharp kitchen knife in her hand as she made the point hadn’t escaped me nor that she’d deliberately picked it up to emphasise her words! I got the message. Hands and everything else off her ponygirl or risk losing something valuable!

Fairs fair, four each had been her argument. She had four captive animals in the stable, and I had three of them to entertain me, plus her. The little bitch had even added that she should count double because she was way better looking and much more fun in bed! Her logic had a very obvious flaw, but I decided not to push the issue. Watching my pretty little girl in action was always stimulating, and with that tall busty beauty, even more of a spectacle, albeit a bit unfair!

Decidedly unfair, I thought now as I looked over at that tall sexy creature she’d selfishly claimed for herself, thinking how generous I’d been sharing Tinky with the ungrateful little bitch. No, that was a bit unfair; she’d been extremely grateful bedwise over the past few months, hadn’t she? Plus, the precedent had long been set in our relationship. I was expected to be faithful to her and her alone, whereas she’d always expected free rein to amuse herself with numerous girlfriends! This situation was merely a variation in her eyes, no doubt!

More to the point, my best buddy downstairs wouldn’t miss out on the fun, would he? No need for five-finger Mary tonight. My pal below had been eagerly twitching on and off since I’d returned home. Even if the delectable  Anabeb, Boobie was off limits, there were now six, no seven other helpless openings available to soothe his rampant lust!

We’d prepared ourselves for our evening's fun, of course. We sometimes did when Trixie decided we’d have one of our ‘special romantic evenings’ with our unique pet. Playing ‘dress up’, I more glumly described it and was always self-conscious, but it amused and excited my girlfriend, so I played along. Well, what else? Once every few weeks was no big deal to humour her, and anyway, why should I be bothered? We had a captive audience, after all, and no one was in a position to laugh as me, and if they did, well? That foolishness could soon be rectified!

I was wearing what she called my Masters outfit, the one she’d bought me because it gave her such a turn-on! Bare-chested, had the obligatory leather wrist bands and tight, too tight if I’m honest, leather pants with the pop-off crotch piece. I wasn’t too keen on the black men's leather knee boots either with their chunky inch-and-a-half heels. Trixie went for them. Indeed the whole outfit she declared made her go all mushy inside when she watched me amusing myself with Tinky. I felt ridiculous; all I needed was a leather cap, and Tom of Finland would have loved me. Then again, when you considered how I invariably used my ponyboy, that comparison wasn’t far off the mark!

These evenings were the only times since she’d moved in full-time that I saw Trixie bother with much makeup. My sexy little girlfriend had a perfect complexion and looked pretty damn stunning anyway, but boy, when she did apply the greasepaint, wowzer with a capital Wow!

On this occasion, she looked stunning and was savvy enough to know that less meant more. How many women do you see these days where the dividing line between attempting to look good and imitating a clown is pretty darn thin? The warpaint, like the outfit l knew, was never intended for me or at least I was incidental. Trixie dressed for Tinky and sometimes even released the poor creature from that wicked device she’d used to restrain his manhood. Giving it an airing or exercising her stallion, she called it! Not that it was permitted to run too wild or too, of course. Tinky hadn’t been allowed even the teeniest spurt since I acquired him, and neither of us intended that he ever would! Such pleasures were for his owners, not a captive animal like him!

Tonight she’d spent time with the curling iron putting a few sexy waves into her honey blonde hair, daubed on more than a smidgen of warpaint pouting into the mirror and then given a pair of glossy white high-heeled knee boots a rare outing. The white virginal theme, ‘as if’,  continued via a white clingy nylon sleeveless net catsuit that revealed more than it concealed, plus a pair of shimmering white shoulder-length opera gloves.

I know the effect it had on me, so poor Tinky would have had no chance, but I knew tonight for once she wasn’t dressing for his titillation, but someone else in mind nor I suspected was such titillation her primary aim. Moreover, I imagined a case of ‘power dressing’ for her amusement and self-esteem, perhaps with half an eye on the once stylish Boobie equally booted and exposed but in an entirely different situation!

Much as I appreciated the eye candy,  I always found her dressing up on these evenings a little strange given her usual preference for decidedly minimalistic outfits all the other times she amused herself with the beast. I couldn’t speak for Tinky, but I knew what the sight of her working up a sweat, sweet little tits bouncing about as she flogged him did to me. Then again, I  suppose when your rump is being mercilessly roasted, such visual treats are less of a cock arousing distraction!

Poor Tinky, Trixie was an expert on these occasions at working her stallion to the point when it was ready to erupt and then bringing it crashing back down either by the prompt application of pain or by one of us fucking his still delightfully tight ponyboy cunt. Her nimble knowing little fingers could coax and tease to within one twitch of an eruption, invariably breaking off at that crucial moment giggling with delight as he writhed in frustration. I often watched almost in sympathy, suffering the very same problem, but unlike him, I had a remedy immediately to hand to take care of my frustration. His as well, although in a far less satisfying manner.

You might even have called it an act of kindness after watching his pathetic desperation. A cock, real or replica, is a very effective tool for killing your victim’s ardour! Some guys might even have kept their hard-ons from that, but deep penetrating, not to say painful humiliation, invariably had the exact opposite effect on our handsome animal!

Out of curiosity, I looked straight at Tinky when we both entered the stable, and I saw that fearful look in his eyes as he took in our appearance and grinned. Not tonight, boy, I thought. I think your sexy little mistress has fresher meat in mind. Not just the one night off, I mused either. Tinky was a lucky boy. No longer would he be the sole recipient of our evil little games, not that he’d get entirely ignored. I loved his tight rear almost as much as Trixie’s sweet pussy. Just something about how he squirmed was so delightful, and of course, he never had a headache!

To be fair, neither did my sweet little bedmate nor ever complain that I was ‘mussing her up!’ and to leave her alone. After her little interrogative session, I was still somewhat amazed that Trixie had constrained herself to merely tacking up Buttercup and restraining Bozo, then leaving them alone bar feeding till I returned. Given her sensual and sadistic nature, I was amazed, but then I remembered that she did have Boobie to play with, didn’t she? Likewise, she’d had ample opportunity to plan this evening's entertainment, hadn’t she and I doubted that boded well for our two nosey parkers!

I still suspected our ‘fetish’ appearance was not even aimed at them. Well, perhaps just a little but more likely, she’d had Tink and Boobie in mind even though they were not on tonight's menu. Judging by the marks I’d seen on her delectable body, Annabelle had been introduced at least once and probably more to the items dangling from their respective hooks below that shelf. I also thought it unlikely Trixie would have bothered dressing herself up, more the opposite!

Ditto the more penetrating ones arranged by size and shape on the shelf above them. Tink was well acquainted with his favourites, as Trixie called them. As familiar, I supposed, as he was with my sizeable cock, which was the agreement I had with the little bitch. She could peg him to her heart’s content with whatever she chose, providing it was no longer or thicker than the flesh and blood phallus nature had provided. I left the external texture to her, be it natural,  knobbly, spiked, ribbed, whatever, but within the agreed size limits!

I enjoyed my tight stallion and was damned if I would let Trixie’s sadistic instincts ruin my ride by stretching his tight hole and back passage! That was why he never had a tail 24/7, and when he did sport, one that plug it was attached to was relatively modest. Uncomfortable and degrading, of course, but not over large.

My sadistic girlfriend was forever adding to our/stroke her collection. Those wicked implements of leather, wood and bamboo that dangled innocently from hooks on the wall and those designed for internal rather than external use on the shelf above. Down one end was the ‘forbidden’ section that Tink was unlikely ever to accommodate. Looking at a couple of them, I doubted if he could physically be stretched that much anyway! Boobiey, I reflected, was unlikely to be so fortunate!

One question had come to mind as the pair of us walked over to the old barn in the early evening sunlight, talking about that long-limbed lovely. “How do you spell it? I mused.

“I and T, of course”, was the prompt response, along with an accompanying silly giggle.

I ignored the schoolgirl humour. “I mean Booby with a y or Boobie with, ie?”

Trixie paused as I swung the old wooden doors open, then shrugged her shoulders. “I before E except after C!” then she laughed. “Now, who’s getting pedantic? I’ll probably just call her Boobs! Anyway, does it matter? C’mon, which one of them do you want first, or shall we toss a coin but let’s take them together, remember the old adage?”

I stared at Twinky for a second. “I was thinking about name boards on the stalls”, I muttered, following her into the musty old building flicking on the lights with my free hand, the other holding the ice bucket with its chilling bottle of wine. “Remind them of their new identities, what they are now, and who they belong to. What old adage?”

Trixie put the two glasses and tray of nibbles on a convenient old table and absently reached out to stroke Boobie’s head as she turned to grin at me. “The couple that fuck’s together stays together! She giggled, pointing to my old makeshift whipping bench. “You get that one ready for Bozo” she paused and looked thoughtfully towards his stall, then added, “Oh fuck it, let's call him Piggy. He looks so like one!”

I laughed at the expression on her face. “Well, Girl, I have heard of people who keep them as house pets, plus they’re also considered intelligent animals. I’m sure they can also be taught to do tricks!” I reassured her.

Trixie beamed a lovely smile at me, then reached over, grabbed a handful of Booby’s hair, twisted it, and raised the girl's head. “What a clever boy he is, isn’t he pony? Now you behave yourself while I put you back in your nice stall. I shall be busy tonight” she shook the girl's head from side to side, adding, “I’m all set for a fun evening, and I don’t want it ruined by you pissing me off right at the start! Irritate me just one teeny bit, and you’ll be back over this bench first thing tomorrow morning, and I won’t be gentle. You know what I did to you before I gave you that nice bit of loving attention afterwards to kiss and make-up?” 

‘Kiss and make-up?’ I dragged the old bench across the floor, but my eyes flicked to the toy shelf, wondering which one had delivered that ‘nice loving attention’. Having seen the brutal way she used Tink, I doubted there was anything ‘loving’ about it! Then in response to her imperious hand signals, I manoeuvred the awkward bench towards the new one where she was busy releasing the distraught-looking Booby from numerous securing straps. I grinned at that stunned, disbelieving look in the girl's eyes, then glanced towards the latest two addition to Trixie’s ‘herd!’.

It had been a while since I’d seen that shocked ‘it can’t be happening; this is not real you can’t do this to me!’ look in Tink’s eyes, for he’d learned by now it was happening, and we could and did do to him! Do anything we liked, for as long as we liked and whenever we liked. He’d learned, as would Booby and the other two. I grinned, but it would take time for that look to fade, and I had three sets of eyes now, not one to enjoy!

“There, right next to this one, tight against it”, Trixie ordered as she dragged her gorgeous pony to its feet. No hooves yet, but that would change once she started flashing my credit cards around again. I was sure Booby would not appreciate a new, unique, expensive wardrobe. In the meantime, Trixie had opted for a pair of expensive-looking black knee boots with a substantial chunky heel, no doubt selected from her new acquisitions wardrobe. What else had she pilfered, I wondered, then grinned. Maybe the local police were looking for a transvestite burglar!

“Not a bad idea, the name boards, I mean”, Trixie tossed back over her shoulder. “But I’ve got an awesome idea for ensuring they never forget who owns them, a real hotty”, she giggled, jerking her long-legged pony forward.

Annab, Booby was peach of a filly, I thought, as did my twitching buddy down below as I watched that inviting rump stagger towards its designated stall. I felt way too inviting, and from those vicious marks, offering one invitation, Trixie had already responded to more than once. All women age-wise and yet still part girl in looks! Mare or filly? Not that it would concern me other than as a voyeur, I sighed, pushing the bench into position, realising my nasty little girlfriend’s planned intent as I did so. Tandem!

 Well, I shrugged. Her dubious old adage didn’t say the couple had to be fucking each other, did it?