A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter 23

Over at the big house, they were well into their second bottle of wine as Patricia’s ‘Dolly’ scuttled about, clearing away the dishes. Having finished outlining Patootie’s training to date without identifying the animal, Heather gave Alice and Patricia a summary of recent events and acquisitions at Margret’s stable.  Eva amused herself by grabbing and fondling the diminutive but perfectly formed older woman every time she came near her. 

Despite her years, the woman was even more petite than she was but with such a beautiful shapely mature figure caped by those fantastic firm breasts. Positively ancient by Eva’s youthful standards, Patricia had dressed her for the evening in a very revealing over the top French maid's outfit but lacking the usual high heels. Her doll wore little girls black patent leather Mary Jane strap shoes instead. A real living doll to play with, no wonder her mother was so captivated by her latest acquisition. 

Captivated but by no means kind as the abbreviated frilly outfit did nothing to conceal the fresh cane marks on the dolls thighs and cute bottom.  Even as her hands wandered possessively over that delicious little bottom and those big perky tits, the evil girl was also wondering just when she ought to arrange for mother and daughter to meet and under what circumstances. That promised to be such fun, and she didn’t want to blow it by choosing the wrong moment.

Of course, her mother and sister would insist on being present, but it would be her show and hers alone. Well, apart from the two star attractions, of course. Dolly reached over to collect the cream jug and the dessert dish but stiffened and stifled a squeal as she made to back away from the big table. Eva had absently reached out and thrust a hand between the little woman’s legs, and a small finger was probing at her most private parts. 

The impaling finger began to explore as Eva became more interested in the squirming sensitive flesh that her inquisitive forefinger had found and the fact it was getting a little damp. The mature little woman squeaked as she squirmed and wriggled but made no attempt to pull away from the young girls intimate probing showing how effective her mothers ‘initiation training’ had been. But then it usually was no matter what sort of creature was on the receiving end! 

“Careful, pet”, Patrica cautioned as her amused eye caught what was happening next to her. “Mama, there is proving to be quite a horny little bitch, and I don’t want you giving her anything she hasn’t earned. When and more importantly ‘if’ she gets such a reward is up to me and only me, Honey” She gave her youngest daughter a thin smile. “The only big thing about her is that slut slot of hers. Squirts like a damn hosepipe as well and leaks like a sieve beforehand, so be warned.”

Eva smiled sweetly, returning that of her mother. She was right though, her inquisitive probing finger had already discovered those large fleshy sensitive lips, and a slight trickle of cunt juice was already running down her finger and wetting her hand from the now shuddering woman. Pleasure or humiliated rage, Eva wondered. Interesting, would her big beast of a daughter also be so responsive, she wondered? Eva withdrew her hand and wiped it on the woman’s dress, gave her a mild slap on the bottom and let her scurry away in the direction of the kitchen sink. They had an expensive dishwasher, of course, but it was rarely used!

Eva helped herself to a couple of wafer-thin chocolate mints, frowning as she found several empty brown paper sleeves in the box. That would be her damn stepfather; he always left them in the box. That idle fucker, couldn’t even help himself to an after-dinner mint without being lazy! Three weeks or so, she thought to herself as she bit into the first one. Longer, and it increased the chances that little mummy might accidentally make an unfortunate discovery. Or, and much more likely, mentioning no names, some indolent thoughtless big dicked idiot might say something at the wrong moment! Whereas any earlier neither she nor the big pony daughter would be ready. Not from what Heather had told her anyway.

Eva smiled to herself; no, she didn’t want mama to see Patootie standing around harnessed in her stall. How much more of a shock would it be when she saw Eva trotting up at a fast pace confidently mounted on the well-whipped beast! Not just well-whipped but thoroughly obedient to her young owner or at least well on the way to achieving such a state.

Alice had also reached for the mints box and just caught that evil smirk on her sister’s pretty young face, planning some devilry, no doubt, but then that wasn’t unusual. She pulled a sleeve out of the box, then pushed it over towards Heather as they resumed their conversation as to a couple of interesting young colts Heather had heard a whisper about that might become available soon. Alice had forgotten entirely about her human doggie, of course. Even if she had remembered, it was doubtful whether she’d have summoned up either the energy or enthusiasm to do anything about him till the following morning.

Bad news, though, for Fido as the fully awake Sultan slobbered all over his face then growled before the hounds long wet tongue lathered his face with copious quantities of dog saliva. Sultan wasn’t only awake; he was also feeling randy again, and for once, he wasn’t back in the pen he shared with Prince. Even more unusual, there was a convenient bitch ready to hand, a rare opportunity he was not about to squander. Even as his excited long red penis began to emerge from its hairy sheath, his doggie mind drifted back a few hours as he lapped, licked and slobbered.

Fido was taken by surprise! What the hell? What was it doing as the huge growling dog rose above him, leaned forward, its front paws scrabbling for their usual hold to grip him tightly, but the silly beast was doing it all wrong, entirely arse about-face? What the fuck! This was precisely what he’d been so fearful of happening; he’d known what would happen when the wretched beast woke up, with no one supervising the damn creature. It was confused thanks to Miss bloody Alice going off and leaving him like that, leaving the big dog without the usual guidance. Why couldn’t she have taken him out first or at least left Floppsy strapped down on the other bench?   He’d already had the bloody creature up him twice; it was her turn, all she’d had to do was….

Horror overcame him as something hot, huge, hard, fleshy and foul-smelling prodded at his face. Oh God in heaven, no! Not that he wasn’t  Floppsy, was he, but of course, the monster on his back nor that demanding part of its anatomy, the one thrusting impatiently at his face, cared about that. The big dog had enjoyed those earlier preliminaries to the main event and was determined to enjoy them again before reversing its position and mounting its bitch. It tightened its grip, and the thick blunt claws dug in deep, breaking the skin and as the bitch writhing beneath opened its mouth to scream in pain, some instinct told it that was the moment to thrust and enjoy! It was one time Fido would have sold his soul to have been chewing on a large rubber ball gag, instead!

Dinner was finished in the big house and they’d retired to the lounge as Dolly served coffee. Like any teenage girl, Eva had her cell phone out, showing her mother some photos of her recent vacation. Not exactly the sort of pictures most young daughters would have snapped in the more normal equine establishments dotted throughout the country, though!

Alice also had her cell phone out, showing pictures. She and Heather had switched their focus to another of the stable’s helpless inmates. “She’s getting big now, but that picture is a bit deceptive. Moonglow is not a particular large filly, nothing like Patootie, but you can’t see that from the photos.”

“That is a big bump”, Heather agreed. “Sure, that little filly is not about two drop a couple of foals! Has Megan seen it yet?”

Alice nodded. “Yeah, of course. She’s been over several times to keep an eye on her as well as the regular times when mum has her do a general health check on all the livestock” Alice broke off and laughed. “She is rather taken with my Midnight, and we scared the shit out of the big bastard one afternoon not long since!”

Heather looked interested. “How so?”

Alice grinned at her friend. “You know how difficult that big unruly stallion of mine can be most of the time?”

“Well, there is a well-tried method of calming them down as well, you know” Heather made a scissors snipping motion with her fingers.

“Precisely”, Alice laughed, the huge brute had been pissing me off big time, and the crop and cane didn’t seem to be as effective as usual. Maybe that was more my imagination because he was dancing and howling just as he’s always done for me. Anyway, I decided to try a little touch of psychology for a change. No, don’t pull a face on me! We both know that they can still think even if we rarely admit it or allow anything to come of it.”

“Make that rarely a never in my case,” Heather declared emphatically. “I think, I whip, they scream, they obey, simple!”

Alice snorted and waved a hand. “Pah, well, maybe you should try your hand with Midnight. Then again’ she hastily added as Heather grinned and licked her lips. “no, forget it, you can keep your greedy little hands and your whip off of him!”

“Spoilsport! So, what did Megan do?

Alice chuckled. “More a case of what she didn’t do but could have! I’d just led him back to his stall after a rather lengthy session on the whipping frame. My arm was aching, nor was I sure that I’d achieved anything, anything long term that is with the beast! Shit, you’d think he’d have learned how to be obedient twenty-four-seven by now; I ran out of unmarked pony hide months ago! Anyway, knowing Megan was coming over the next day just before I left the stable, I casually said as though talking to someone just outside, enough is enough. I might have the big bastard gelded tomorrow!” 

Heather giggled. “Ponies usually have excellent hearing”, she observed. “I expect it comes from so much standing around with very little to do but strain their ears to give their puny brains something to feed on!”

This time Alice giggled. “Exactly, well, I didn’t go near him again, not till Megan had examined every other pony and then I opened the door to his stall so he could see Megan right outside setting stuff out on that folding table she uses. You should have seen the expression on his face when he saw the knives and scalpels. Quite a nasty looking collection she was laying out!”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, Well, Midnight could imagine a whole lot more, especially when Megan and I started chatting. Did she need any boiling water, how long till he’s recovered, do you use any anaesthetic, or is it possible to do it without adding to the suffering, etc. No, don’t look at me like that; we were having fun, miss prissy oh so very competent, all I need is patience and a whip, Miss Heather, premier pony trainer!”

“Be nice. I’m a guest, remember” Heather laughed.

“Well, to keep the story short, we had our fun, and he was going ballistic in his stall trying to get free, silly boy! Anyway, had I given her the go-ahead the next time my whip made him sing, he’d have hit far higher notes than usual! We staged a little cameo with me being enthusiastic and Megan being reluctant to spoil such a fine handsome stallion! Oh, but you might want to breed from him again, Alice and all that stuff!”

“Good cop, bad cop?”

Alice laughed. “Yeah, something akin to that, although in reality, it’s the other way round. Megan would have whipped his balls off in a trice if I’d permitted it; you what she’s like with anything male? You should have seen how agitated that ‘fine handsome stallion’ was becoming! At one point, we both had to nip outside and get rid of the giggles. Anyway, I allowed myself to be reluctantly persuaded not to go down that on this occasion, telling Megan I’d hold it over till her next visit unless I needed to call her over sooner if he didn’t calm down some”

“Did your little charade work then?

“Hah, she did her unusual examination without him so much as giving a twitch, good as gold even when she removed his tail and checked his temperature the usual way. I’ve never seen him so fucking docile, not that it lasted, of course. The upside means it has allowed me to get a saddle on him finally. I won’t say he’s changed all that much, nor would I want him to lose all of that spirit if I'm honest. If he does start acting up, though, all we have to do is make your snipping motion with our fingers,” she laughed. “He’s still at heart a thoroughly truculent and recalcitrant animal, though, so I never spare the whip!”

Heather yawned and nodded approvingly. “That’s as it should be. Even the tamest and most docile pony benefits from regular reminders of its status and who is its owner! Well, ladies, I’m for bed. It was a long drive, and I think tomorrow will be a fun day,” she laughed, nodding in the direction of the stable “For some of us anyway!”. 

Although Patootie, nee Jenny, did not realise it, she was only a matter of a few yards away from two other members of her lost family. Opposite and in the stall nearest the big double entrance doors, her cousin Sally lay dozing fitfully on her bed, the latest addition they’d added to her simple stall to increase her ‘comfort’! 

Comfort! Hardly a luxury suite at the Ritz or the Waldorf Astoria! Alice had temporarily moved the girl to another stall and then had her filly’s father scrub and clean out the stall to her satisfaction with the usual application of physical encouragement. It had amused both her and her mother to tell him exactly why he was doing it and for whose benefit, which, of course, had produced an entertaining if foolhardy reaction requiring a lengthy session upon the flogging bench!

Given that he was naked, shackled and chained to a wall by an ankle, his anger and frustration at their revelation were amusing rather than dangerous. He might rage, threaten and rant, but his tirade was nothing but impotent bluster, and once it became tedious, their whips had soon silenced him upon the bench then driven him back to work, silenced his protests but not his agonised screams!

Once the spartan space had met her grudging approval, on her third inspection, he was allocated the task of putting a couple of coats of white undercoat on all the walls and then several of white gloss until she was satisfied with the finish. Alice had thought it was by no means perfect, looking around when he’d done, but it would serve her purpose. It was clean and functional, and anyway, it wasn’t as though they’d be performing open-heart surgery or anything like that. All the filly had to do was drop a little foal, and that was a perfectly natural event, wasn’t it!

Margret had told of her other less considerate owners who treated the whole thing a lot more casually, even primitively. ‘Seen them just drop in the dirt no different to the wild before now at one stable, she’d said, although with strong disapproval in her tone. Margret had a more oversized stall but not dissimilar, fitted out for the same purpose. Alice had attended one such foaling and felt very confident, although she’d get Megan back over as well when it was time. 

Megan was a senior nurse who worked part-time at a big state hospital. She devoted the rest of her time to her ‘private’ patients, those unfortunate enough to be ‘owned’ by her clients!  The difference in her wages between the two was colossal! Whenever questioned on the subject by those clients, her cheerful answer was that she enjoyed the contrast between the two!

Margret had shaken her head when she talked about that other place. ‘Why risk something so valuable?’ she’d questioned. Alice knew that when she used the word valuable, she was not in any way using it in a humanitarian sense. Little foals could fetch a great deal of money, and those entirely stable reared, massive sums. So cute and so ultra obedient, given they knew no other life! Not that that money mattered either to her or to Margret, for that wasn’t why they did what they did, nor were they the least bit troubled by conscience.

Unlike her impulsive younger sister, Alice was a practical girl, so she’d exchanged that simple plank bed for a narrow metal bed with a plastic-covered mattress. Less a case of comfort but more a case of hygienic convenience, Megan had advised. A small stainless steel folding table stood in one corner with various implements, tissues, towels, disposable gloves, etc., plus a couple of plastic bowls. In addition for hot water, a sizeable electric kettle was plugged into an extension lead that ran from a socket outside into the stall. 

Along with the other captive ponies, Sally had been disturbed and woken by new arrival with her chattering escorts. She should have been interested, but she hadn’t been. Anything unusual that broke up the monotony of the stable was a double-edged sword. The ponies could never be sure that it wouldn’t herald some new horror that would make their awful lives that bit more miserable if such was possible! In her case, she just felt so continually tired and wondered if that was natural or they were adding something to her food!

She drifted back into that half-awake, half-asleep state, revelling in the comfort of the cheap mattress under her. It was slippery and squeaky but oh so delightfully soft and wonderfully comfortable. They’d also removed that awful constricting waist corset, the posture collar and body harness, which added to her sense of blissful freedom. Pity they’d left those awkward boots on her feet, the armbinder and head bridle, but maybe they soon remove those as well. The soon wasn’t something she cared to contemplate, so she turned over, ignoring the voices and tried to force herself to sleep.

At the opposite end of the stable, her father was probably the least comfortable of them all.  He shifted himself again on the hard floor once again and tried to find a comfortable position. The stable floor was covered in a mixture of dirt, sawdust, trampled straw, wood chippings and sand but only an inch or so deep.  Underneath that layer was a solid uneven hard stone floor. Inside his iron cage, there remained very little of that top covering, nor had the pile of straw been renewed that sufficed to serve as his woefully inadequate mattress since Miss fucking bitch Alice had first housed him in that iron cage.

He lay awake wondering if they knew or appreciated just how uneven that floor was under the dirt covering. It seemed level but had all sorts of minor irregularities probably unnoticeable to those with booted feet, hoof or otherwise. Damn uncomfortable, though, if you were condemned to sleep naked upon that unforgiving stinking surface night after night!

His additional discomfort was a punishment for being such a useless slacker. That was Miss Alice's opinion, his beautiful young and tyrannical sadistic overseer. Even when he wasn't toiling under the threat of her whip, she could inflict pain and discomfort on him, the bitch. He hated her but feared her even more! 

One of his recent tasks had been breaking up some of the huge rolls of plastic covered straw bales stacked behind the stable presumably purchased and delivered by a local farmer. The damn things were enormous, heavy and tightly packed. Alice used a knife to slit the heavy-duty plastic wrap in a few places, and then he had to use his bare hands to rip the tough material away and start loosening the contents. It was hard going bordering on the futile in his opinion the way she wanted him to go about it, and he had made the mistake of saying so—a stupid mistake on several levels.

He knew that immediately. Miss Alice did not say a word, nor had her expression changed in the slightest as he made his protest. She regarded him with that same dispassionate contemptuous look for a moment, then her gloved hand lashed out, slapping him hard and bitch slapping him twice more, rocking his head from side to side. The girl could hit hard as he well knew! 

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to, for in her eyes, he was worth far less than her two human ponies harnessed to the nearby cart. Without taking her mocking eyes off his face, she shook out the short coiled whip in her other hand and then pointed back to the bale of straw. He needed no translation of the gesture. Return to work or feel her whip. No doubt he would before the day was out and more than once, but there was no need to start the sadistic bitch off so early.

The girl wouldn't give a damn about doing it efficiently or quicker; why should she? That's not what it was about for her, was it. No, she got her damn rocks off, making him do it her way, making the ponies do what she wanted and using that fucking whip as her means of ensuring their efficiency! What did time matter to her as long as they all danced to her cruel domineering tune!  

It didn't, for they spent the whole morning transferring straw via the pony cart into the barn. It would have been far quicker and saner given the short distance if you took the loading and unloading into account to have simply rolled one of the big round bales straight into the barn! But no, he had to sweat and labour in his heavy chains under that whip, likewise the two helpless ponies. The spirited Aussie ones, the man and woman she often selected to amuse her far more intimately, stretched over a bench in the stable.

Every so often, his eyes met those of a pony peering from behind the straps of their head harness to exchange a mutual unspoken communicative look of shared anger, misery and mutual sympathy. It was farcical, ridiculous to be toiling as they were like mindless beasts under the threat of that whip. A whip in the hand of a girl barely a year or so out of her teens! Yet naked and chained as he was and harnessed and tethered to that cart as they were, what could they do except obey the bitch? 

He was sweating and exhausted by the time she called a halt as he unloaded the final cartload onto the big pile in one corner of the stable. If he thought his day was done, he was doomed to disappointment. Her fingers clicked and pointed. “Cage, kneel!”. He obeyed, instantly crawling through the low entrance and kneeling while she unhitched the two ponies from the cart and settled them back in their stall.

Under her watchful eye, his next assigned task was to gather armfuls of straw and place fresh bundles into each pony stall for bedding bar, the one that held his daughter. He was well aware of why it was not needed, and if he’d been able to free himself of those chains just for a couple of minutes, one minute, hell twenty seconds, murder would be swiftly done! 

That was why he was sleeping on the unyielding surface without his allotment of primitive bedding. He’d spent ten minutes on his hands and knees picking pieces of straw up in his mouth and crawling over to the big pile to drop them before Miss Alice had grown tired of that game. She’d grabbed a rake and moved the rest of what he’d dropped herself before snapping her fingers and ordering him to follow her, on his hands and knees, of course! 

The remainder of his day, he spent toiling away back at the two manure heaps. There was the old one behind the stable and the new one about a hundred yards away. Now she had a slave for the heavy stuff Miss Alice had decided to dispense with the convenience of the one beside the stable, thus removing the smell. His task was to fill a wheelbarrow with the horrible muck and trundle it to the new heap. She didn’t even bother to oversee him because of the extremely long length of heavy chain locked to his ankle. He’d thought about using the ‘freedom’ it gave him to explore the stable; maybe he'd find some means of freeing himself, but then there was still that fucking smart collar around his neck.

Naturally, he had been given no tools, no spade or pitchfork and had to use his hands to dig up and lift the muck. The filth stuff caked his hands and arms and feet, and the best he could hope for later would be a few minutes under a cold water hose in the hands of his cruel young tyrant! His mind wavered between two things as he dug and trundled his old rusty barrow back and forth. The thought of keys, a hacksaw or similar tools in the stable and that of  Miss Alice’s wrath and whip or worse! He was a coward at heart, and that image of Miss Alice won every time.

Even as he wriggled about trying to find a comfortable spot over at the big house, the lights were going out one by one. In Eva’s room, the customary trail of discarded clothing lay strewn around the floor now considerably increased by what she’d raked out of her big suitcase a little earlier. Her riding outfit, boots, hat, gloves and crop lay neatly(ish) on the dresser, all ready for the morning. The young girl was already asleep, a sweet picture of blonde innocence clutching an old teddy bear to her developing bosom. A deceptive innocence at odds with the wicked thoughts in her mind as she’d closed her eyes contemplating the morrow!

After peeping into her bedroom, Patricia had decided to sleep in the second master bedroom. It was not unusual for either husband or wife to do so, given their individual tastes in extramarital entertainment. The usual case of first come, first served, no pun intended. Nor was it much of a comedown for the second big bedroom was in many ways the twin of the main, albeit a little smaller. In some ways, Patricia preferred the perceived enhanced intimacy it offered. 

If Dolly had thought her long day done as she wiped the final few pieces of cutlery dry, she was mistaken. Patricia had turned the lounge lights out then stood silently watching her small but perfectly formed house come bedroom slave finish her allotted tasks. Five minutes after accompanying her mistress upstairs and undressing her while Patricia both amused and aroused herself by running her hands all over the more petite women’s sexy body relishing  Dolly’s rigid disapproving but and unresisting protestations.

 Two minutes later, Patrica was contentedly laying back with her legs spread as that tiny but talented tongue went busily to work once more. Dolly, she thought with a pleasurable shudder, was definitely a keeper. Was there a way of surgically lengthening that deliciously entertaining bit of flesh, Patricia wondered?  Her cane, she remembered, was hanging from the headboard in the other room, but somehow she didn’t think she’d need it tonight as she reached down to caress the head between her legs.

If Patricia felt no necessity to use her cane, then her husband had felt differently.  Only a short time before its cruel owner peeped into the master bedroom, he had used it a dozen times upon a set of already battered and bruised buttock cheeks.  A tortured rump hidden from her gaze by those of her husband energetically pumping away at the squealing feminised youth pinned beneath him.  Not the pleasantest of angles, she reflected, wrinkling her nose at the sight. There was something incredibly coarse about the crude male animal at play compared to the long, slow sensual session she had in mind for herself as she’d quietly closed the door and steered Patooties mother towards the empty adjacent room.

The red-headed Heather was hard asleep in her room; one tanned arm absently stretched out in a subconscious gesture as it vainly sought the amiable hunk with whom she usually shared her bed. The guy who shared those ‘normal’ days and nights with her yet remained completely ignorant about her other life as an accomplished breaker and trainer of captive human equines. The big simple sweetie assumed that his red-headed bundle of energy was just a very highly sexed young lady. The thought that her occupation might be responsible for such never entered his mind!

Next door, her friend Alice was asleep in a room far tidier than her younger sister's, but she was not reaching out for a missing bedmate. Alice rarely shared her bed with anyone, and her needs had been well served earlier by a female human-canine. As Fido had suspected, she’d completely forgotten about him, and even if she had remembered, it was unlikely that she’d have bothered doing anything about him. He was just a bitch after all and not even a valuable one in her eyes. The big guard dogs had cost a fortune, whereas sooner or later, some other poor fool would no doubt end up wearing a collar just like all the others.