A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter 29

“Whoa, whoa, girl”, Eva hauled savagely back on Patootie’s short reins making her pony squeal as the bit dug painfully into its generous mouth. “Steady now”, Eva slashed downwards with her long slender crop achieving the exact opposite as the leather flap at its end scorched the bleeding, bruised purple flesh of her mount’s tortured rump. 

“There’s no need to hit that hard, you know,” Heather said, frowning at the young girl as Patootie jumped and squealed again into its bit. “Especially with that nasty thing. A simple sharp reminder is sufficient rather than deliberately hurting the animal like that!”

Eva shrugged petulantly and yanked on the reins again. “I don’t give a shit. I want it to hurt!” The girl laughed and leant slightly forward in her saddle to rub the right side of her ponies shaved head with a gloved hand. “This fine filly belongs to me and me alone. This big beast might look like it’s well and truly broken, but we know differently, don’t we, Patootie? I’ve beaten her into submission, but she’s still got a wild feral look in her eye that I don’t like. But I’ll rid her of that silliness!”

Heather watched and scowled as Eva abruptly swung her crop again and delivered another agonising blow to her suffering mount, and then she sighed and shrugged. Not her problem and it was the girl’s pony, after all. Who was she to talk, having flogged her fair share of ponies over the years despite her not being much older? She curbed the comment she’d been about to make, absently patted Midnight on his head and pointed with her crop.

“Do you get a lot of people like that?”

They’d halted just inside a thicket of stunted trees after spotting the three figures walking line abreast bowed under heavy-looking backpacks several hundred yards away, heading for the hills to their left as they looked out. Eva shook her head.

“Not many. Technically they are trespassing. That land belongs to a local farmer, but it’s way too rocky and rough to use for anything bar grazing sheep, and he gave up on them yonks ago. A local bus runs down that road over there a couple of times a week, and you occasionally get hill walkers and the like taking a shortcut. You can’t see it from here, but there is a nature trail that follows a footpath, one of those silly public rights of way’s a couple of miles over there that way that bends this way. Those walker types will be heading for it, I expect. If you don’t have transport, that road is the nearest you can get to the path. Taking a shortcut to cut out a few boring miles at the start seems to be getting more common these days.”

“Awkward”, Heather muttered, watching the slow-moving figures and thinking of the vast expanse of empty land available to her back at her boss’s place, protected by the sea and rocky cliffs on a couple of sides and empty, isolated moorland on the others.

“Yeah”, Eva agreed. “Seems kinda stupid taking shortcuts if you want to walk for a hobby. Didn’t matter overmuch before, but now we’ve started riding our ponies, it makes things a little more awkward” She caught sight of the look on her companion’s face and giggled.

“Awkward?” Heather questioned with raised eyebrows.

“That’s how big sis put it. Mother was a little more down-to-earth and effusive. You know how she is when it comes to security?

“Quite understandable”, Heather grinned, nodding to Eva’s sweaty bleeding mount. She noted that Patootie had turned her head and was also looking towards those three distant figures. She idly wondered what was going through the beast's mind, and naturally, Eva hadn’t noticed that lapse on her pony’s part. So typical of the kid, Heather thought. Small things count, and there was far more to training two-legged equines than thrashing their rumps to bloody mush for personal amusement!

“Your place, Margret’s, I mean, is so much better. Oodles and oodles of space to ride about in without worrying about being seen by anyone.”

‘Yeah, unless you’re stupid enough to ride alongside the boundary road in full view’, Heather remembered but did not say. She did not want to upset Eva, for technically, the girl was in charge while her mother and Alice were in France: Eva and that useless oaf of a stepfather of hers. Even thinking about him made her hand tighten around the leather grip of her riding crop. Oh, if only. Anyway, she’d agreed to extend her stay yet again while they were away for a few days.

“Not so much him”, Patricia had told her, nodding through an open door into the next room where her husband was engrossed, fondling his bit of sissy fluff. “Apart from deciding how many times a day he’s going to ram his dick up, Girlie, he wouldn’t dare decide anything on his own. No, it's Eva who concerns me. I need an eye keeping on the girl. You know how impulsive she can be at times!”

Heather did and was a little surprised when Eva said. “Let's wait until they’re out of sight and give them another few minutes”.

Heather nodded. “Okay, it’s your show. Anyway, it never hurts to give your mount a rest either.” Eva’s response was something between a loud snort and a wicked laugh, indicating that she thought no such thing!

“Sorry, mothers made an offer for a goodly portion of that land. The old boy is thinking it over,” Eva commented, wiping her mouth with the back of a gloved hand. “He’s in his seventies, has no family and hardly does anything these days with any of his fields. Alice and I have told her it’s a waste of time unless she wants to erect a twenty-foot razor wire fence for miles. People will still cross over regardless of who owns the land; a few signs won’t stop them. Anything else would be overkill and probably attract attention to what you want to conceal.”

Heather looked about her and nodded. “I’d add some discrete cameras and some of those modern alarms that can send an alert to your cell phone. That way; you can track trespassers and know when its clear to ride out”.

Eva nodded. “Great minds think alike. That’s what we told her, even fuck face, although he suggested just adding the devices and not buying the land, idiot!”

“Hmmm,” Heather mused. “Not such a bright idea. Someone would be sure to find them and question why you wanted them there. Fuck face! That the latest name for him?”

Eva laughed. “Dearest step-daddy? It varies week by week or even daily, depending on my mood, useless fucker. Any way to change the subject, what do you think of….no, look at them, “she pointed. “Don’t stand there admiring the fucking view, assholes! Get a move on!” she growled impatiently.

Heather chuckled. “That’s partly why people climb hills and mountains, kiddo. Anyway, changing what subject and doing that won’t speed them up”.

Eva had raised her crop as though to deliver another blow to her pony, which indeed had been her subliminal intention to slake her irritation upon her animal’s hide. She glanced up at her raised hand, holding the crop almost in surprise, then lowered it, grinning sheepishly.

“Habit. No, I was going to ask you how you were finding Midnight. I thought he might have been troublesome, but he’s been as quiet as a sleepy kitten between your legs. I still can’t believe Alice let you ride him,” she finished a touch sulkily.

Heather turned her head slightly to hide her smile. She was well aware of why Eva was so touchy on that subject. Alice had jealously guarded her massive stallion since acquiring the magnificent, muscled beast. Apart from the odd exception for her mother, she had not allowed anyone else the slightest leeway in handling, grooming or especially punishing her prize stallion. Even looking at the animal was virtually verboten, or so Eva had grumbled during a coffee break when she’d been down at Margaret’s stable.

Heather recalled smiling at the time and glanced through their restroom's open door towards a row of stalls. Her ageing mare Jezebel occupied one of them, and Heather was no less possessive with that animal than her friend was with Midnight. There was a difference, though. Everyone knew about Midnight, his background and capture, whereas her Jezebel was still an enigma to all but her owner and Jezebel herself, of course!  

The fact that her Patootie was less sacrosanct because of the earlier agreement between the sisters rankled with the youngster. More so since Alice had physically exercised her rights upon the helpless animal several times already, as per the said agreement. ‘Doing her bit to break the pony in’ as she’d sweetly put it to her seething younger sibling. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t even have her, would you, Kiddo, if it weren’t for me!’  Alice had pointedly reminded her so smugly as she’d departed to pay an evening visit to the stable and introduce Patootie to some of her more intimate toys that first time.

Alice had chuckled all the way to the stable that first time as they’d left her incensed younger sister behind to grind her teeth in frustrated rage. A touch unjustified, Heather thought when it had been Alice who had captured the striking animal in the first place. To date, Eva had refused every invitation to accompany her sister to ‘watch the fun’, growling her continued refusal through clenched teeth and no doubt taking her anger out on poor Patootie's hide later!

Heather had also declined such invitations after the first time, but her reasons were slightly different: watching her friend sexually abusing the poor pony wasn’t her cup of tea. In her book, it was still bestiality and, in her opinion, a comedown for those who indulged in such a practice. She’d watched her friend doing similar to the human dog Fido recently, but somehow, that had seemed slightly different.

Maybe being around and training so many two-legged equines had left her that way. Still, such feelings hadn’t prevented her from enjoying a pleasant little interlude and some urgent relief with her vibrator in the privacy of her room after both those evenings. However, she was definitely missing her big hunky bedmate now. Alice might enjoy riding one end of a double strap-on dildo, but Heather preferred being on the receiving end of the real thing!

Although the idea of owning and training a similar canine had been in her mind for a while, Heather doubted she would go that far. Seeing a captive stallion eagerly covering a suitably restrained and helpless mare or filly was nothing new to her. It wasn’t a frequent occurrence at Margaret’s stable, but on the other hand, it wasn’t an ultra-rare event, although the current prize stallion might not agree! Big Billy was very aptly named. That thought made her smile a little wistfully, thinking of her own sizeable stallion, her hunky partner. Then again, when she did finally go back. That thought made her smile even more.

“What up with you? You look like a Cheshire cat that’s just been given a humongous dish of cream?” Eva observed, turning her impatient gaze from the distant stationary walkers.

Heather raised an eyebrow. “Oh, just enjoying the day, the sun on my face, and such”, she lied sweetly, thinking Eva hadn’t been too far out with size reference and the cream. She allowed her man considerable freedom in every aspect of his life, bar one. He was a relatively simple soul and not the type to chase other bits of skirt, but wanking was a big no-no in her book. No playing with yourself while I’m away, she’d warned him. I shall know, so save it for when I get back, she’d cautioned the big oaf.

Heather smiled again but inwardly, for Eva still cast the occasional suspicious glance in her direction. Loverboy certainly hadn’t saved anything that final night at home before she’d driven Eva and the two ponies up from Margarets, had he? No wonder she’d felt a little tired on the journey. Going back would be fun; she knew she could trust him to keep his hands off his dick. He didn’t need it caged, unlike the huge animal she was riding and wouldn’t have been riding if the foolish beast had been able to contain his primitive lusts! He had gone chasing skirt and was the one to get caught, silly boy!

“Finally”, Eva muttered. “Better give them a couple of minutes to get out of sight. At least there don’t appear to be any other idiots wandering about! Steady girl!” This time the crop did swing up and down, causing Patootie to be anything but steady!

Heather sighed and shifted slightly in her saddle. It was a comfortable and well-worn saddle, and the only one Jezebel had ever had strapped upon her just as Heather was the only rider she had ever carried. Heather was feeling randy, and it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d orgasmed on top of her ageing mare but not today, not atop Midnight and definitely not in front of young Eva. Besides, those other times she’d almost run Jezebel into the ground and cropped her raw in the process, and she could hardly do that with Alice's magnificent moody beast, could she?

Heather's thoughts returned to that evening in the kennel building. Sipping chilled champagne while watching Fido writhing under his enormous furry lovers had undoubtedly been stimulating. She’d secretly snuck one of Alice’s more modestly sized toys into her bag for use later, unnoticed by her friend, who’d decided to round the session off by satisfying her own needs with a far bigger phallus. Although it seemed that the wretched Fido had been the primary beneficiary of that thing, given the size of the dogs who’d knotted him twice apiece, maybe it was a downgrade for him!

“For heaven’s sake, move, will you!” Eva was still intently watching the distant figures on the skyline who’d stopped again.

Heather glanced up, thinking they were too far away to see anything untoward, but when in Rome, she shrugged. Then again, they might have binoculars or something with them, so she absently stroked Midnight on the head again and returned to her thoughts. No, she would never do as Alice did, never go that far, for it went against the grain. She was a trainer, an animal trainer, a trainer of unique animals, but still, animals like the one underneath her clamped between her thighs and obedient to her will, or he’d better be!  

Heather wondered how effective Alice and her toys had been in breaking Patootie, for the animal had spirit. Patootie had shown plenty of that during the three weeks Heather had charge of her, and although she’d been something of a changed animal when they drove her back, she’d not changed all that much. Then again, much to her irritation, she’d been severely restricted by her boss's special instructions. Like trying to make an omelette without breaking the eggs, as one of her stable girls had put it! Or applying the necessary heat, Heather had silently fumed.

Any such handicap had not hampered Alice as Heather watched her half walk half drag the reluctant animal to her ‘entertainment’ bench. Patootie had been angry and fearful, but that was only to be expected. All such ponies were like that initially, and they never lost that fear when they realised why they were being led to a specific piece of stable furniture. That fear broke them into the true animal destiny intended them to be and kept most of them in an acceptable docile state. If you did your job correctly in the first place, there was no need to wear your arm out nor mark the pony's hide repeatedly. Not counting those essential reminders that every such pony needed occasionally, of course!

By their very nature, two-legged equines were not the easiest creatures to train nor the most biddable, and despite her young age, Heather had always taken pride in ensuring that she did her job perfectly. To date, she had not experienced a failure, nor did she ever intend to do so. Thus, professional curiosity had prompted her to accompany Alice after dinner that first evening rather than any sensual or sadistic voyeuristic interest.

It wasn’t even as if the spectacle would be new to her. Kylie and Susie, the butch-looking lesbian couple Margret employed, were allowed to indulge themselves with most of the stable livestock whenever the mood took them. As their flat was immediately over the stable, they tended to avail themselves of that employment perk frequently, much to the dismay of those stalled underneath. Despite previous employment in both the military and prison service, it had seemingly never occurred to them that their boss might have included more cameras in the stable building than they knew about, a couple more discretely concealed ones.

It wasn’t so much that Margret wanted to spy on her employee's activities. However, she did confess to finding the duo’s activities entertaining; she told Heather early one evening when they were discussing a prospective new arrival over a cup of tea in the big farmhouse kitchen. Rules are rules, though, Margret had said, nodding to the big TV revealing in full HD a struggling male pony's futile attempts to avoid their joint assault on his tortured rectum. The fact that the newly arrived male pony in question would soon require a considerably larger butt plug for his tail and shit tube, given what the giggling butch duo were doing to him, didn’t seem to worry her.

“I don’t want those two randy sluts borrowing one of the ‘off limits’ animals thinking I won’t know about it. I don’t think they would; however, one never knows,” Margret had pondered her attention only half on the big screen. “I could tell them about the cameras, but then” she’d paused and laughed. “Perhaps they wouldn’t be so amusing to watch if they felt inhibited! Do I or don’t I?” she’d pondered.

Watching the two women in action, Heather doubted that knowing about the camera’s existence would make the sadistic pair feel the slightest bit intimidated or inhibited. She’d told her boss so, nor had anything she’d seen since when in the big kitchen or her bedroom monitor when she stayed overnight at Margret's house changed that initial perception. Filly or colt, mare or stallion, it mattered little to those two, but what they did with the livestock in their own time was her boss’s concern, not hers. Daytime and under her orders, despite the age difference, they were a very efficient and hard-working pair of stable girls, so Heather had no complaints. True, they were very free with their hands when handling the animals, but that was no bad thing. The creatures needed to learn that their bodies were no longer their own, and the sooner, the better. Even if she never showed it to the same extent in public, Heather was no different when handling delightfully skittish fresh stock!

Heather and Margret had even conducted a few experiments on new stock. However, they hadn’t reached any definite conclusions, partly due to the wide variations in subject matter and other factors. Not really a controlled experiment but interesting nevertheless, as her boss had noted. Some they’d allowed the girls to drag upstairs early, whereas others had been completely spared their attentions, at least at first. They'd both concluded how fast or the degree to which a new animal broke down seemed more down to individual cases, given that liberal use of the whip along with the usual debasing, dehumanising treatment had been standard.

Different stable, different trainer, so professional rather than voyeuristic curiosity had prompted Heather to accompany her friend. She had been curious to see if Patootie reacted any differently and thus wasn’t unduly surprised when she hadn’t. A different stable, different abuser, slightly different approach, but the reaction had been pretty standard and much as she’d expected.

After the better part of three weeks of induction at Margrets and several far more severe on the receiving end of Eva’s cruel whippings, the poor animal couldn’t summon the mental strength to protest her older sister's savage phallic assaults. Not that she could have physically done so anyway, given how Alice always had her victims strapped helpless upon her favourite bench. Patootie had shrieked and cursed, wriggled and squirmed as they all did, male and female, as they were cruelly penetrated and abused for the first time, but that hadn’t lasted long. The pony had briefly come to life again when Alice decided to deny her sister the fun of ‘first footing’ by ravaging her latest victim's virgin anal passage, but rather disappointingly for her abuser, quickly descended into dull apathetic acceptance. Not entirely unexpected, given the animal had been wearing a tail tube twenty-four-seven!

Heather had left at that point. Alice was far too gone with her sadistic orgasmic ecstasy to notice, and she’d seen it all before back at Margrets. After the shock of finding themselves harnessed and stalled and then experiencing the repeated kiss of the whip, many of them just surrendered at this point, as Patootie had seemingly done. They didn’t stay that way; some became decidedly rebellious and even more difficult afterwards. Not that it made any difference in the long run as far as Heather was concerned. Every animal was different, but time, patience and the whip were far more effective attitude adjusters, in her opinion, than any dildo!

Eva had not been handicapped by that ‘no damage’ limitation once she got the animal home and hadn’t held back when training her pony. The animal belonged to the girl, so she’d had no third-party owner to worry about, as Heather sometimes had to remember when she was breaking and training a new arrival. Watching the inexperienced but enthusiastic youngster at work had been interesting. Far too excited in Heather's professional opinion, but there was no denying that the girl had succeeded better than she’d anticipated in an impressively short time. Maybe she had a future there with a bit of professional guidance.

Of course, Patootie wasn’t fully trained, nowhere near that docile state that some owners demanded and would undoubtedly explode soon. They always did and continued to do so at subsequent points as she progressed from an intelligent young woman to a near mindless obedient beast. A practised eye could usually spot when such inevitable but foolish eruptions of rage and rebellion were imminent, but Eva lacked that ability.

Alice and Heather had discussed this and concluded that Eva wasn’t the sort of girl who wouldn’t listen to advice anyway, so it was better to let the inevitable take its course. Her pride would take a tumble, but she’d learn from the experience. The girl might suffer a bruise or two, but that would be nothing to what Patootie would suffer afterwards.

Heather made a mental note to chat with Eva before she returned home, for Margret always looked for suitable stable staff for her clients. The best were guaranteed extremely lucrative employment opportunities by those who could afford such luxury pets and housed them in some exotic locations.    Her thoughts returned to the animal she was riding, who was no stranger to her friend's varied collection of sex toys.

Midnight was the biggest and most formidable stallion Heather had ever ridden or laid her crop upon. She could feel the anger, the tension, and pent-up aggression within him just waiting to explode as she had with other mounts, but never to this extent. She’d smiled indulgently when Alice had cautioned her about the beast, mentally comparing her considerable experience against that of her friend. Alice hadn’t been joking, though, for although her mount had seemed docile now that she’d ridden him a couple of miles, she felt as though she were sitting atop an active volcano, a very active and unpredictable one. Eva might lack the experience to recognise those faint tremors in her mount, but Heather could and clamped her thighs that bit tighter upon the beast beneath her.

Well, she’d ridden and broken unruly mounts before and many times. Let him try it, foolish animal, for there would only be one winner in such a situation. Let him play that game if he wished, but it was a contest that Heather had yet to lose! Besides, Alice had told her that she could use her crop or whatever implement she fancied as hard as she needed on his black glossy hide should he misbehave. That hadn’t been just for her ears either; they’d been standing outside the animal's stall when she spoke. If the silly creature thought Alice was bad, he’d yet to suffer under a true professional, hadn’t he?

*****

“You seem surprised”, Madam Camille noted with a slight smile and then sniffed the air just as Patricia had done several times upon entering the low modern building.

Patricia laughed and shook her head. “Not really. Silly of me to expect otherwise. Why should your cowshed smell any different from my stable.” She smiled. “Same animals biologically, just a different role!”

“Ah,” Camile noted and wagged a finger. “Yes, but also non, no. Our beasts are more productive, more useful, perhaps? I think yours are more, how shall I say, pets unless you put them to the plough or working cart?”

“Not yet”, Alice answered, “although I have been thinking along those lines. I suppose,” She nodded at the nearest three hucows, “at present, our livestock are exotic pets compared to these animals. Is this building new, it looks it? Our stable building is quite old, whereas this facility seems virtually new.”

“Two years,”  Raymond informed her. “We bought the farm in a condition of ruin and then…what is the English word for repairing and making suitable again?

“Renovating”, Patricia offered.

The tall, swarthy man smiled delightedly. “Ah oui, renovation. Yes, the farm and the house are very old. We bought it several years ago as a country retreat from our busy life working in the Paris research laboratories, but of course, it also makes the perfect base for our new private interest and research. We had this facility built new. Relaxation, not experimentation was our purpose when we first bought the house, but later”. He smiled and tapped the side of his nose. “The area is remote, and the nearby local peasants in this district are very quiet, their noses mindful only of their own business, very much of the clan as the English say”.

“Clannish”, Alice laughed. “Well, a lack of local curiosity is certainly an advantage. I take it you took steps to gain their approval when you moved here”.

Raymond winked and chuckled, making an internationally recognised rubbing gesture between his fingers. “Naturelllement! But of course. We helped fund a local medical centre and always give generously when asked for good causes. As you say, we are now considered one of theirs, oui?”

“Oui, close enough”, Patricia smiled. “Now Camille, I’m dying to meet your cows. They look so...” she paused, unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say.

“Interesting”, Alice filled in, looking at the three pudgy animals chained to a long metal bar in the big open-fronted pen. None of them was particularly easy on the eye, but then the three naked girls weren’t being kept as eye candy, were they? She thought peasant was a somewhat derogatory term but very apt, looking at the plain-faced, dead-eyed,  buxom trio. She grinned at her mother. “Young, plump, and so very ripe, eh?”

Patricia laughed. “Yes, Honey. My fingers have suddenly got the same itch as yours, I expect. Those big fat udders are just begging to be squeezed!”

“Please, be our guest”, Camilla laughed, gesturing towards the nearest captive girl. “You will find them very docile. Maybe too docile for your taste. Your friend, Margret, seemed a little disappointed with them when she visited us, but that’s mainly the drugs we use, plus they are typically dull peasant stock. This region is famous throughout France for not being over-developed up inside here,” she tapped her head. Then, pulling a face, raised both her hands in a despairing gesture, “and this prefecture, poof, imbeciles and the ignorant, Mon Dieu!”

“I think they grow the populace locally along with the turnips or whatever”, Raymond chuckled. “I heard from a reliable source that this area was the last in France to receive electricity and a telephone connection. No doubt those set over us thought them unnecessary luxuries for those yet to discover fire! During La Seconde Guerre, the Boche didn’t even bother to station troops here. We study cows, but they are little better than sheep!”

Alice laughed politely and looked at her mother, wondering if Patricia had heard what they were saying, then grinned. She’d seen that look in her mother’s eyes before and knew it didn’t bode well for some poor innocent in the world beyond, probably more than one. She shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the thought as irrelevant. Destiny was destiny. After all, she had hers, as did her mother and those less fortunate, well, not her problem.

Patricia had heard, but her eyes and brain were occupied assessing the three thick-set young women before her. Plump might be the better term. Not quite fat yet, but definitely en route to that station via decidedly chubby next stop. All three could have done with losing a bit, no, make that quite a lot of weight. ‘Not exactly prime stock’ was how her friend Margret had pointedly described them disparagingly over the phone when she called her, and she’d been right. Patricia glanced sideways towards the French couple and realised that to them, the three women were little more than large two-legged lab rats upon which they could experiment and nothing more. Presumably, you could achieve the same results with more attractive and less docile specimens, couldn’t you? She felt her body give a little involuntary shudder of pleasure at the thought.

Given her hostility to any form of animal cruelty, even to laboratory rats, her husband would have found her attitude amusing, but she was unaware of that contradiction. Besides, even if he’d been foolish enough to point it out, she would have dismissed it as entirely different and irrelevant. There were animals and ‘her animals’, and she saw nothing wrong in how she treated those more unique animals she owned.

The three women huddled together amidst the straw, dirt, and stinking waste on the floor, their long dark hair matted and filthy as were their bodies. Apathetic and incurious, showing hardly any sign of interest in the two new arrivals or little sign of any intelligence. Almost like looking into the dull, lifeless eyes of some tired, near-life-expired old beast, but obviously not in their cases. Hard to judge their ages, Patricia thought regarding the trio. Anything between what, eighteen and thirty, maybe? They were naked apart from a wide leather belt around their waists or where the waist would have been had they not been so plump. Heavy metal fittings on either side secured their wrists to the belt and around their necks, a high collar extended into a partial mask covering the lower part of their faces.

Mother and daughter edged closer for a better look. The device combined a high leather posture collar and gag that rose to cover their mouths and nostrils. Instead of a mouth gag, a ribbed tube protruded a few inches and a couple of breathing holes under the nose cover above that. A long shoulder-high metal bar ran from one side of the stall to the other, and each of the animals was tethered to it by a length of steel chain leading to their collars. At the front of the stall, evenly spaced, were three contraptions of galvanised steel with a hard wooden saddle-type seat and numerous straps. Patricia tapped one with a finger and turned to look questioningly at her hosts.

“For feeding,” Camille said, glancing at her Apple watch and then laughing. “Not normal time, but why should that matter? Not to these creatures. Please to watch!” as she spoke, she gestured towards her husband, who grunted and headed further down the building.

The two visitors stood back as Camille strode into the open-fronted pen, delicately avoiding soiling her footwear on any of the scattered human dung and grabbed the nearest hucow by her matted hair and roughly pulled her to her feet, then propelled her unresistingly towards the right-hand feeding frame. 

“No need to wear out our arms every day whipping these animals”, Raymond observed with a chuckle as he returned, shaking a foot-long tubular-shaped glass and stainless steel container from side to side. He missed the quick look mother and daughter shared at that information. Neither of them could envisage owning livestock without regularly exercising their right arms daily, nor did they regard such an act as an additional unwelcome chore as Raymond evidently did.

Camille guided rather than forced the girl onto the low wooden seat to virtually squat with her knees bent on either side of that humped wooden seat. A couple of straps quickly secured her thighs, pinning her into position, and then a third strap was connected to the rear of the girl's collar and pulled tight, forcing her head to bend backwards and making her large breasts more prominent and accessible.

Alice and her mother shared another look. Such tempting targets were almost irresistible, but the same thought was in their heads. After all, they were the udders on a hucow and an essential part of the production process, weren’t they? What effect would say the application of a whippy cane have on that?

The girl or cow offered no resistance; mother and daughter noted both were making that same mental adjustment almost simultaneously, girl to cow, hucow! Camille glanced across at them as she pulled the last strap tight, patted her captive hucow on the head, and beckoned them to come closer, which they eagerly did.

“The milking room is further down” Camille waved her hand. “We have machines like on real dairy farms. The same equipment they use, but Raymond made modifications. He is very what you say, very practised with his hands.” She laughed and said, “Come please, try like the old way, “ and grabbed one of the cow's fat breasts, offering it up to them”.

Patricia grabbed the proffered mound of soft flesh eagerly and non-too gently, but the placid hucow hardly seemed to notice. However, Alice did, somewhat amused at her mother's alacrity in joining her host.

“See”, Camilla beamed at them, moving slightly to one side as Patricia joined her. She was holding one large udder in her left hand while squeezing and pulling at the huge and swollen nipple on the hucows udder with the fingers of her right hand.

They could see, and both gasped slightly as that first trickle of milk turned into a thin spray every time Camillla’s fingers adroitly worked the swollen teat. “Is impressive, oui?” the woman enquired with a proud smile releasing the dark swollen nipple to catch some of the milk on one finger. She winked at them and raised it to her mouth to lick the liquid off with rapid darting motions of her tongue.

“Fascinating”, Patricia breathed, her hands already working the cow's other udder and giving a little gasp of delight as she achieved similar results. “Incredible, and she seems full of it.”

Alice grinned as her mother instinctively did what Camilla had just done and repeated the action twice. “Nice, tasty?” the girl asked with a short laugh.

“Mmmm, very”, Patricia sampled the captive girl again. “Sweet and thick, creamy, its…” Then she broke off and giggled like a silly teenager.

“What’s so funny?”

Patricia grinned at her daughter. “I just had a mental image of Auntie or maybe Mumsie serving morning coffee.” she chuckled and gave the swollen teat an extra hard squeeze producing a satisfying squirt of white liquid that caused Alice to jump aside and the cow to display its first reaction.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Whoops! Sorry, a little too eager on my part, Honey.” Patricia chuckled. “I was thinking there’d be no need to add a milk jug to the tray. Imagine how deliciously demeaning that would be!”

“You’d have to clean it up first if you're going to bring it in the house…oh, I get it. Use one of the sisters instead in the same way, one squirt or two!”

Camilla stood up, beckoning to Alice. “Come, now you try. Very responsive and productive, oui. You see why we need special equipment twice a day. One, maybe two, yes, is okay for the hands, but now we have three and plan for more, it is too much work, and they get,” she paused, wagging a finger in mid-air as Alice crouched down and followed her mother’s example.

“What is the word I seek. Unhappy, non. Ah, oui, distressed, that is it . They become distressed, and yes, unhappy. The milk needs to be released twice a day, or they suffer”.

“Pain” Patrica paused and looked interested.

Camilla shrugged. “Perhaps and perhaps not. There is discomfort, big discomfort and maybe, yes,  some pain. We experiment, of course. Interestingly, they stop producing if not released, but not immediately. It does not store good internally, either. Leave inside too long and tastes not so nice and goes very thin, and the next few milkings very similar” She shrugged and smiled, patting her cow on top of her matted head. “It varies, of course, beast to beast. We always experiment. Number deux, two, this animal is the best quantity and quality producer when we make laboratory analyse. Perfect animal,” she patted the girl again.

“Why not shave their heads,” Alice asked, looking distastefully at the long filthy, matted tresses of blonde hair.

Camilla looked at her for a moment and then shrugged. “More work, and it makes no difference to the milk, so why should we bother? She does not care, does she?”

Patrica rose to her feet, licking her fingers and looking thoughtful. The drugs they used on them seemed to put them in a torpid state. Hopefully, that wasn’t an essential part of their productivity. “Numbers, not names, interesting.” she mused and then asked. “How old is this one, and is age a factor?”

Camilla shook her head. “It seems not, but it is early days for the experiment. This one is, “she paused as though trying to remember the cow’s age, but that wasn’t the reason, as she immediately explained with an apologetic shrug. “English numbers, I must think! This one is twenty-three, that one, twenty-five and number trois, the baby, eighteen” She made a gesture bringing her hands near to each other, indicating small. “All very alike, all young, all similar size here” She touched her breast. “Taste and texture, yes, perhaps a minor percentage difference, but quantity, yes, can be a big difference, and all vary as well each day even with identical feed. Is very interesting, we find. Always more questions the more we experiment!”

“Very interesting”, Raymond agreed, handing the container to his wife. “We’ve spent a lot of time talking and reading up on material from dairy farmers and vets, and the early indications are that we have a production anomaly. Older dairy cows tend to produce more milk on an annual yield basis than younger ones, and of course, all cows need to be impregnated frequently. That is another fascinating aspect of the process”.

“I can imagine!” Patria rolled her eyes and giggled as she exchanged looks with her daughter.

Raymond stared at her as though confused before understanding dawned, and he laughed. “No, you misunderstand me. There are those, I’m sure, who would take pleasure from observing that physical aspect of the procedure with the bull! However, that is merely an essential prequel to the fertility process. Allowing that to proceed unchecked in the usual fashion would be inconvenient, at least for now. An area for future experimentation perhaps, but for now, the cocktail of drugs they receive ensures that their bodies perform as we wish without the complications pregnancy would bring.”

He paused, looking at the two visitors and sighed. “Early days and, of course, so many avenues left unexplored but…” he broke off, chuckling and rubbing his hand together.

“We’re not scientists”, Alice grinned, “but keeping notes would hardly be a chore, would it?”

Patricia shook her head. “Not in the least. We’ve been doing that anyway with our ponies, keeping a simple spreadsheet, and once a fortnight, they get weighed and physically assessed and so on,” she mused and then nodded towards the cow on the feeding frame. “Every time the same?”

“Always Camille”, answered. “We experimented with several different feeding methods but decided on this one. Being the same every time is most important when you conduct a scientific study. Perhaps something else may prove better in the future, but for now,” she tapped the plastic container hanging on a long pole she’d slotted to the frame. “I push this plastic tube on here and the other end on her gag tube, turn this little faucet, and she feeds. No need to do anything but allow gravity to do as gravity does! The tube inside this face gag will deliver the feed straight down her throat. The animal can not taste the feed, but” she pulled a face and laughed. ”My country has a reputation for food par excellence, oui? But in this case, perhaps not tasting the feed is a kind bonus for the creature!”

“More homemade equipment from my little workshop,” Raymond said “, but it does the job adequately. The main area for experimentation, of course, is not the delivery methodology but the composition of what we put into their stomachs and what effect that has on the quality and quantity of what they produce. It is all most fascinating!” he rubbed his hands together again and seemed to dance a subdued little jig hoping from one foot to the other.

“Arrèt, stop!” Camille laughed and tapped her husband on the shoulder. “Calm yourself. He gets so excited at times!”

“I can imagine”, Patricia muttered, staring at the visible lowering level of liquid in the translucent container and then at the helpless captive cow with her head forcibly tilted back, absorbing the liquid that flowed directly into her body and not a thing the animal could do to prevent it.

“And your bull?” Alice asked but watching her mother. She smiled; yes, those little wheels amid the grey matter were probably working overtime judging from the rapt expression on Patrica’s face.

“Ah, oui, Hercule! Our magnificent beast is further down; come this way” Camille led them further down the building past an open area filled with stainless steel fittings, fridges, and sink units, almost like a commercial kitchen except for other pieces of equipment presumably used to extract milk from their captive hucows sizeable udders.

“After Hercule, perhaps some coffee”, Camille suggested. “Then you may wish to see them being milked in this room before you leave, yes?”

“Oui, very much  oui, thank you, Camille!” Patricia chuckled. “Then also a little talk, I think, before we leave”.

The small end room in the facility was more of a stout iron cage than a room. Heavy iron bars nearly two centimetres thick formed an enclosure about four meters square devoid of any fittings or features bar a similar door and the same dirt-covered flooring the cows had and similarly in urgent need of a thorough mucking out. The room with all the milking equipment had been clinically spotless; by design or intent, the living quarters for the unkempt captive animals were the complete opposite. Deliberate strategy or pure laziness on the part of the scientists, Alice wondered, thinking of the daily effort she was required to perform grooming and mucking out their ponies. Not that she resented it, for the sheer pleasure of owing such unique livestock far outweighed any inconvenience.

The bull Hercule was an impressive beast built along the same lines as Alice’s Midnight, although not so tall or long-limbed. The beast was squatter and broader in the shoulders and, of course, pale-skinned rather than that ebony black hide that looked so delightful when oiled. That’s not to say the animal was bland to the eye, far from it being covered in a shaggy mass of gingery red body hair that also caught and glinted in the light. His hair hanging to his massive shoulders was or would have been a rich copper colour, but it was in the same matted and bedraggled state as the neighbouring cows, and the stench emanating from him was even worse.

Used as they were to the stable reek of captive human equines, Mother and daughter automatically wrinkled their noses in tandem and exchanged another look. The same question in their minds was whether this lack of animal hygiene was necessary for the milk-producing process or merely disinterest from their owners. Most certainly, the latter was the look of mutual understanding they shared.

“This one is not on the same regime of drugs as the cows,” Camille said, opening the cage door and stepping inside. “You can perhaps see that from its belligerent demeanour!”

Patricia nodded. As an experienced handler of recalcitrant two-legged beasts, the warning was superfluous. Its very stance, body language and angry snorting told her that with one glance, as did that look in its rabidly angry and demon-like red eyes as it stamped one foot and glared at them. Nor had the fact that Camille had armed herself with a long thin, flexible black rod before entering the cage escaped her.

Nor had that act escaped the animal, for its eyes rapidly switched from the newcomers to that thin rod Camile was casually bending between her hands. Very flexible, Patricia thought as it formed almost a full half circle and no stranger to the big beast’s hide judging by all the marks and scars, some still very fresh. A touch too thin for her taste as an implement of regular heavy correction, for it would cut as much as blister as was evident from the many cruel scars that even his hairy covering could not conceal.

Camille released one end of the rod and quickly delivered a sharp cut to Hercules’s flank and, at the same time, said something in French, too sotto voce for them to hear. The beast jumped and then shuffled backwards slightly before turning its back upon them and then, in obedience to another quiet command, turned again to face them.

“Not a sound. He has no voice with that feeder gag,” Raymond said from beside her.

“Patricia nodded. “She’d noted that herself, either the beast was so accustomed to the agony that simple stroke must have produced, or nothing could escape that combined neck collar gag. Given the pain it must have felt, the accustomed part was unlikely, which only left the feeding gag. Even though her animals spent almost their entire lives bitted, there was enough leeway to allow their muted howls of agony to escape, nor would she have it any other way. She made a mental note to get hold of one of the feeding gags or find out who made them. The concept was good, but perhaps with a few modifications.

Alice had joined Camille in the cage and ran an appreciative hand over the hairy beast. Hardly surprising, her mother thought, for the girl had a good eye for big guys with sizeable dicks although not in a way those guys would appreciate. Midnight was still a dangerous handful but not quite the same beast he’d been a couple of years ago, whereas a big new bull? She smiled, knowing what would be running through her older daughter’s mind.

She watched Alice’s right-hand stray downwards, making the bull twitch and take an involuntary step backwards. The hulking animal halted immediately as Camille screamed an order at it and raised her rod threateningly. Beside her, Raymond chuckled quietly.

“Our big uncouth peasant is not quite as he was, how do you say it, so much, no, not so much a handful as at first, I think! I left him to Camille and her black stick rather than the pill and needle but still very much the primitive, I think. We wish him to be untainted in his sexual appetite, although we add a little extra to his food on those days, we require him to perform. ” He paused and sniggered. “It makes him both like a rock and a starving dog seeing a meaty bone when we lead him to a cow. Even if his brain says no, his big fat cock says yes, yes, yes, and animal mating instinct takes over. He can impregnate all three cows and still has sperm to spare.” He shrugged. “A necessary part of our experimental process, and one quickly becomes bored of such couplings as one would, of course, but it has to happen, you understand, for the process to work correctly.”

“Oh yes,” Patricia replied, her mind conjuring up a suitable mental image and wondering how anyone could be bored. Perhaps it was that listless detached quality present in the three cows due to the drugs. Maybe they didn’t even realise that they were being mated? Well, that wouldn’t apply to her cows, she decided on the spot. Productivity would take a back seat to entertainment if the drugs had that effect, eyeing the big hairy brute and its aggressively noticeable prime feature.

Size was important to her, having lost her virginity at the age of fourteen to a pathetic little thing that had struggled to rupture her hymen, let alone provide any pleasure. Her mistake, Bobby had been a sweet boy but not Goliath. Not even a David come to that, so two days later, she’d seduced and bedded her history teacher on a school trip. The guy had been surreptitiously ogling her for most of the term, mainly due to her blatantly encouraging him. He’d been twice her age, six foot four and had more than compensated for her previous experience in size, vigour and expertise. Indeed, he’d set the standard in size and stamina from that first delightful climax onwards. 

“Raymond, he is not the .…” Camille tailed off and shrugged, then reached down and lifted the seething bull’s impressive cock with one finger. “I can not think of the English word for one who delights in watching sex.”

“Voyeur!”

Camille considered that. “Voyherr? I know not this word.” She shrugged her shoulders. “He finds the process boring, necessary but boring” She hefted the cock a few times and laughed. “Me, less so. I think sometimes I am envious of my cows, oui,” she laughed, casting a sly look towards her husband, flipping the semi-erect cock upwards with three fingers, then patted the big beast on the head and nimbly hopped back as his body language suggested an imminent explosion. Not that his various restraints would have permitted such liberty.

“Non, non, non!” Camille shouted at him, transferring that long thin black whippy rod to her right hand and striking him thrice, forcing the snorting brute to back up slightly. “Non!” she shouted a fourth time, delivered an extra hard blow, and waved an admonishing finger at him before returning the implement to its hook as she closed the cage door. 

“Perhaps we take coffee now, and then later, you see how the milking works?” she suggested, smoothing down her dress and looking at her watch.

Patricia returned the smile. “That would be lovely and perhaps a little chat. I’m sure that as scientists, you find only having one experiment running a little limiting data-wise, I mean?” she gestured to herself and her daughter. “We’d be mere novices, of course, but more than capable of keeping adequate records and anything else you’d require. Tell me more about these fertility drugs, not the tranquiliser ones?” She took the French woman by the elbow and steered her back down the cowshed.

Alice watched them momentarily, then motioned to Raymond, who waited politely for her to follow the other two women. Languages had never been a favourite subject at school, and her mother had done most of the talking so far when needed. Patricia’s conversational French was adequate and far superior to Alice’s mostly forgotten schoolgirl equivalent. They’d only been using English for her benefit during the cowshed tour, and she could hear her mother speaking French rather excitedly as they headed back to the main house. It was easier for her to smile and make a simple gesture rather than attempt to explain that she’d like to spend a little longer appreciating the bull.

 Alice repeated the motion, and after a pause, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders before heading after his wife and Patricia. The girl waited till they’d all exited the building and then reached for that long thin black flexible stick and advanced upon the helpless bull. Undoubtedly a grave breach of protocol, but somehow she couldn’t help herself, and anyway, another few marks would make no difference. Alice drew her right arm back as the beast cringed before her, perhaps just two, maybe three or four, even if it couldn’t howl!