Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style some day

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

"Just a minute, Miss. I am sorry, I have been expecting you, but I must check. They insist on it for everyone, even if I does know them by sight and name. No one gets in without a yes from someone up at the big house. It drives the delivery guy's loco, what with young Miss Tiffany sometimes ordering stuff nigh on daily from that Amazon or whatever!  Leastways it used to till I telled her they might as well have em drop it down here with me, and I’ll fetch it up later for em. Safer, eh!” Then he shook himself and muttered, “Talking too much again, laddie”  He smiled apologetically, touched his hand to his woolly cap respectfully, and rapidly tapped on his cell phone.

“No problem, and I’m sorry I’m late. I kept getting lost” Kathy smiled, not overly impressed by the security and a little amused. Well, she had expected something hardly surprising, wasn’t it and something she’d have to get used to herself? After all, if you had it in abundance, you had to protect it and yourself. Knowing what she knew about her fiancé’s wealth, mostly gossip, admittedly, but even so, had she arrived to find a drawbridge and moat complete with armed guards, she would not have been overly surprised. One vague old guy in a shabby green woolly hat armed with a cell phone wouldn’t keep a determined bunch of thugs out.

A moment later, she was waved through the big ornate double gates, giving the scruffy old guy a friendly wave to show that she was not the least bit upset at the minor delay even if she was an important, no more than that, a major VIP guest in capital letters. After all, that rather sweet old man with his somewhat old-fashioned mannerisms would be working for her soon. Was he an employee, a direct one, or did he work for a specialist company? No, silly question. Way too old for that, nor was he wearing a badge or anything. Not unless a blue woolly cardigan with holes to match those in his tatty hat counted! Perhaps he lived in that cute little cottage by the entrance.

Still, she’d have to make sure Roger thought more about security. Bar a few cameras and an elderly butler plus a few other domestic staff, there was not much else in evidence at his principal residence in London. Kidnaping was not an unknown crime, and having her fingers or ears posted one by one back to her new husband as a bit of encouragement did not appeal to her.

“Just follow the gravel road, ma’am”, the old gatekeeper had said, giving her another vague salute. “Take you right up to the house so it will. Park out front. Plenty of room; if you’re staying, I expect someone will take it around the back for you. Maybe even give it a wash and polish,” he’d chuckled, eyeing the hire car somewhat dubiously. Well, it had been in an outside lot, and apparently, it had rained a lot recently.

The drive from the small airport hadn’t helped it much appearance-wise either, nor had the sat nav in the car when it had twice taken her down ridiculous tracks, one of which had ended in a muddy farmyard. Fortunately, the guy there had been very helpful, provided her with an old map, and noted down the correct route for her; otherwise, lord knows where she’d be now! The road, if you could call it that, to get here hadn’t even featured on the satnav, which she’d switched off after its continual urging to turn around! Kathy had known the place was remote, isolated in the Scottish Highlands, but this bordered a little on the absurd.

Why would anyone want to live here? Thank god Roger spent nearly all his time in that big London townhouse.  Given the ridiculous property prices in the capital, that building was probably worth more than this entire remote northern estate. Now a small private island in the Caribbean instead would be something, wouldn’t it? Especially in the cold season, and he could probably afford one. Imagine spending part of the winter up here? Kathy glanced around at the spectacular if bleak scenery and shivered.

If it hadn’t been for his daughter, she’d have imagined it as some sort of tax avoidance scheme thing people like him always did. But no, apparently, Tiffany, his young daughter, loved it up here and had spent most of her life at the ‘family castle’ as he’d laughingly termed it. Well, he wasn’t far wrong, and one end of it had started life as one about six hundred years ago, although most of it had gone incorporated into the many rebuilds and additions to the present house—a modest twenty-two-bedroom dwelling! Complete, she’d been told with all the essentials any self-respecting country house needed. Huge kitchen, billiard room, the smoking room now used as a TV room, library, dining room, two lounges plus a disused ballroom come small theatre and god know what else.

 Her older fiancée laughed when telling her that she could join him on his next safari to the darkest attic region where he’d never set foot. He’d had to repeat that one twice till she twigged!  Darkest Attic/Africa. Yes, very funny! Kathy had wondered if that silly joke was genuine or a leg pull. Roger had admitted that the twenty-two rooms did include those in the old servant quarter, some of which he’d added needed considerable renovation.

He was based in London and spent nearly all his time there, and Kathy could not understand why he’d squandered a small fortune on this white elephant. Okay, so his young daughter, the apple of his ageing eye, just adored the place but even so! There were limits, and living out here would be one of hers and a hard one at that. Kathy was a bright lights city girl, nightclubs, designer-label shops, expensive restaurants, West End theatres, a witty circle of fashion and show-biz friends, and of course, the cameras of admiring paparazzi.

For some unfathomable reason, he’d bought the place for his first wife, Tiffany’s mother. Why would the woman have wanted to live like some hermit recluse way out here? Why would anyone, for that matter, and how long was this damn gravel drive? A question that answered itself as the enormous weathered grey granite building came into view as she rounded a wooded corner. Her first thought was ugly but impressive, and then, God, how much was the upkeep on a place like this, especially out in the sticks?

Not that many sticks were in sight among the barren, rugged highland hills and distant mini mountains. Very uncool to a city gal like her! Okay, so Roger was rolling in money but still! Then she smiled to herself. If he weren’t worried about this ancient heap, he would hardly bat an eye when she started seriously making inroads on an unlimited credit card balance for the woman he professed to adore! Hell, if he’d bought this antique for his first wife, and that was way back when the zero’s at the end of his bank statement were a lot fewer, maybe he could be persuaded to buy that island, just a little one for her?

Not that she was greedy, of course, but necessity of late had meant curbing her previous spending habits as income diminished both by amount and frequency. Not quite an emergency stop on her financial journey, but the helpful warning letter and a subsequent follow-up meeting with the financial advisor at her bank had initiated her applying the brakes somewhat sharply. Not quite an emergency stop, but not far off one.

Then providence had favoured her, and she’d met Roger. Kathy smiled to herself at that thought. Let the good times roll once more as they had until recently when worrying about her bank balance, and credit card bills had not been the least bit problematic. She scowled as the thought turned sour, unlike the last twelve months or so now she came to think about it.

Just one fly remained in the ointment, one last hurdle, presumably the small one with vivid red hair standing outside the front door at the top of a broad flight of shallow steps as she pulled up and applied the handbrake. The old guy had said plenty of parking, well that was certainly true. There was not another vehicle anywhere and enough room for a small supermarket parking lot, even with what looked like a giant fishpond complete with a dormant fountain in the centre.

Kathy applied the parking brake and instinctively pulled down the sun visor for a quick mirror check. First appearances were important. That was the first lesson she’d learned in the modelling business when she was younger than the smiling girl gracefully coming down the steps to meet her. The next few minutes might be the most important of her future life, and Kathy fully intended that they would go well. She took one last lingering look and then pushed the shade back into position, opened the car door, swung her long slim legs out, and exited with all the dignity she could muster.

Kathy knew Tiffany was eighteen, but only by a couple of weeks and surprisingly, there hadn’t been a big party or anything. Not quite her scene, Honey! Roger had laughed when she’d queried it with him, for, after all, Kathy was virtually the kid's stepmother, wasn’t she? Or rather stepmother in waiting. Stepmother elect even until the ceremony and civil bits were signed and settled. What was her scene then, she’d asked, feeling a little put-out, but Roger had merely laughed as though at some huge joke and said, oh, no doubt when you two meet next week, she’ll confide in you, one way or another, he’d added with a chuckle. I’m only her grumpy old man, mister moneybags, whereas I think she’ll get on very well with you. He’d grinned at her over his brandy glass and added that he wasn’t a complete sour puss, for he had arranged a rather special present holding up a finger. No, wait and see. I’ll let her show you! Then he’d winked at her relatively coarsely, she’d thought.

She was not upset at that wink or the belated invitation to dine, more relieved than anything.  Roger had been a little cold recently, a touch remote and somewhat distant for some unfathomable reason. Was he having second thoughts? Kathy had wondered anxiously. Was it the age difference, his daughter or something else? She’d been glad to join him the other evening, and he’d seemed much more his old self. He’d even apologised for his recent attitude, something on his mind but now settled. That’s why Kathy had been so happy to see that strangely amused wink, even if it was so out of character.

Stepmother, what a horrid term, like spinster or great aunt and similar, Kathy thought, with an inherent age element inbuilt! Of course, age was the potential pitfall in what might otherwise have been a smooth road to riches hitherto undreamed for a simple but beautiful girl who’d grown up in a local authority care home. The polite, politically acceptable modern term for an orphanage! Besides, she truly did like Roger even if he was twice her age plus a bit and had a little problem for an aspiring bridegroom. Two little problems, in fact! One was size, where it counted, and the other was that the Viagra pills didn’t always work, and even when they did, age combined with size didn’t make for a very satisfying sexual union. Not for her anyway, plus she usually had to work him hard with her mouth to achieve full erection such as it was, and she hated doing that. Not that he was tiny, but she did prefer her bedmates to be more stallion sized than pony!

At least he didn’t fire blanks, although the chances of her getting a fat belly, to put it crudely, were pretty slim, but that didn’t worry her. Kathy was a sensual girl who liked her rumpy pumpy regularly and liked it deep, hard and prolonged.  Poor Roger failed on all three counts, and all too often, when he was primed and loaded, tended to pull the trigger way too early. Hell, that last time, he was hardly through the front door when he let loose—not very satisfying for a woman like her, especially after all the effort her tongue had put into coaxing his little bunny to stand to attention!

Kathy was twenty-seven years old, a model, actress, singer, celebrity and entertainer, or so it would have been stated on her CV had she been bothered enough to create one. A successful(ish) model who’d graced the pages of many top magazines, some more than once and even a couple of covers. She’d never managed to wear a set of angel wings for Victoria's Secret's show, but she’d strutted her stuff along a fair few other catwalks in various capital cities. The additional credentials on that non-existent CV being somewhat sparser. She’d once done the rounds on TV talk and game shows and appeared in a short-lived TV series, very short-lived for only the first three of six episodes had aired to terrible reviews. She had a few minor movie credits and a tentative record deal that bombed right after her second session in the recording studio when they’d triggered the release clause.

On the plus side, she’d always worked clean, as she put it, never once flashing her bare boobs at a camera lens nor shown anything worse and had no time whatsoever for those sluts that did. Anyway, that sort of thing had dried up these days! There was way too much hard porn freely available out there on the internet, so what few glossy top-shelf magazines remained were struggling. Of course, Kathy didn't count all the skimpy costume and micro bikini stuff she’d done as being in the same category. But she was proud of never having shown a single nipple, lots of outlines, of course, under tight braless clothing but never so much a glimpse of a single bare nipple. Suggestive poses, yes, far too many to count, but nothing she was ashamed of, so far, anyway!

That last part was the worry. She’d had a great life from all the excitement of being a wide-eyed sixteen-year-old newcomer escorted around her first shoots by old Mrs Martin, her house mother from the care home. Apparently, Mrs M had been quite a stunner in her younger days, and her old contacts had given Kathy a firm footing in the cut-throat modelling business. Later a confident twenty-year-old with a bevvy of handsome, well-endowed admirers in tow and a great social life. Twenty-two going on twenty-three and feeling on top of the world with a relatively healthy bank balance and everything she could wish for, well, not quite everything, so she’d bought more and more a tad too recklessly.

Yeah, not quite everything summed things up these days as did recklessly! Like having a not-so-healthy-looking bank balance these days as she’d waved goodbye to her twenty-sixth year sitting at home alone watching a dismal movie on TV rather than partying the night away.  The following morning she’d said hello to the next rung on the ladder leading all too rapidly to her thirties while looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The growing laughter lines seemed just a tad deeper, the skin sallower while her eyes no longer seemed to have that same sparkle nor her blonde hair that natural lustre. Imagination or perhaps not!

Mrs Martin had warned her, hadn’t she years ago. Remember the three F’s of fame she’d told Kathy as they caught the tube home one afternoon after her fourth or fifth photo shoot. False, fickle and fleeting unless you’re someone of great and lasting importance. Keep that in mind, and don’t get carried away now that you’ve had your picture taken a few times and collected a few nice cheques.  Good advice and promptly forgotten by an excited sixteen-year-old until recently!

Twenty-seven wasn’t old, was it, and yet what did she have to show for the previous ten years or so? Security for her old age, no! Not even for what seemed to be rapidly approaching middle age. A wardrobe room full of ultra-expensive clothes and shoes, most of which she’d only worn once, and all the designer bags, shoes, and accessories that had gone with the lifestyle, yes! Now only worth a fraction of what she’d so carelessly paid originally. A rented flat that was becoming ever more unaffordable, and that was after downsizing last year! Thinking of ladders, why the hell hadn’t she done what that financial investor Mrs M had taken her to see yonks back advised? He’d suggested she sink some of her earnings into property, so at least she might have had her own place now and a foot on the property ladder, maybe higher than the bottom rung!

Worse, if she wanted to stay mobile, she’d have to shell out now for a cheap little family hatchback or resort to public transport. As of last week, the sexy white BMW coupe, the second one she’d had for free and unlimited use, had been reclaimed by the dealer. The present financial situation, they’d told her with suitable apologies. Unavoidable, given rising costs. They hadn’t added that they’d noted her regular attendance with said car at society and other prestigious events seemed to have taken a steep nosedive of late.

Oh, yes, they’d been very apologetic, and then the two-faced lying bastards had promptly lent another one to that over-painted teenage strumpet who was a talentless nobody! A fucking influencer on social media, as if that meant she was someone special. Shit, even the tan was false, just like the nails, the boobs, the eyelashes and the injected oversized lips. Hell, the brat might be old enough to pout sexily at a camera on YouTube, but she wasn’t even old enough to legally fuck let alone drive the damn car, so her moronic over painted mother would have to do it for her!

Now she was a stepmother in waiting to a similarly aged brat. Well, okay, so Tiffany was a couple of years older. Old enough to drive her car and to legally fuck an adult without being considered jailbait, old enough by a couple of weeks now to vote or sink a vodka and lemon in a pub legally.  Kathy repeatedly reminded herself of what she’d been like at the age and with money to burn and cringed inwardly at the memory. Poor Mrs M, if only she’d stayed around a bit longer before cancer had so swiftly taken her!

Kathy had been having these glum thoughts ever since her uncelebrated birthday, and most of the flight to that tiny airport had been along similar lines.  Why hadn’t she put some of her money into property, shares, or whatever? Well. She hadn’t, and she’d ridden the gravy train full pelt until it hit the buffers and thrown her off. It hadn’t quite happened like that. Decay and deterioration didn’t occur overnight, but looking back, she should have recognised the signs and, like many others, hadn’t till too late. She was only twenty-seven and could pass for a few years younger if she worked on her face and the lighting wasn’t too harsh.

She could fool herself and others, but not those in the business.  Her phone no longer rang anything like as often as it once had. The time when she could pick and choose the jobs her agency had was gone, and jobs available for her were becoming rarer and far less lucrative. She'd laughed at the last one and tossed it straight back at them. Three days of work modelling for cardigan and sweater knitting patterns! Perhaps not the best move she could have made in rejecting it given the pressing need for penny counting, so thank heavens for Roger. Jesus fucking Christ. Twenty-seven and was she already over the hill, a has been. No way!

It wasn’t just the work that had seemingly evaporated almost overnight, just like the contents of her bank account, but her social life had followed suit. The invitations had dried up for public events, and to the more prestigious private parties and the like, which had once deemed her attendance essential. Only now did she realise she’d merely been part of the décor. A replacement for another pretty face of the moment to be replaced in a few years by similar.  Nor it seemed was her presence needed or required anymore to grace a red carpet at those award ceremonies she’d thought a permanent fixture in her annual calendar. She’d even sunk to auditioning for a hostess job on a third-rate afternoon games show, sugar and shitty spice! How low was that, and she hadn’t even been offered that?  They’d given it to another overpainted buxom bimbo just because she had a billion followers on Tik Tok or something!

Oh, she still went out, of course. She still had friends or perhaps old acquaintances and plenty of numbers in her phone if she needed male company for the evening and some horizontal entertainment later, although not nearly as many as she’d once had. Once upon a time, they had rung her. Now, if she called them, it was somewhat risky as unexpected wives and partners sometimes answered, even on one embarrassing occasion, a kid had gone to find daddy! Her world seemed to have moved on without her noticing or needing her. Kathy also suspected word had gone around, so perhaps she was even regarded as a potential liability these days by her casual old flames who’d also moved on!

Then thank God, three and a half months ago, the cavalry had ridden to her rescue in the shape of Roger. Tall, tanned, lean, ruggedly handsome and loaded. The fact that he was twice her age plus was irrelevant, given his boundless energy and zest for life. Ironically, he made her feel old, for it was like having a relationship with an over-enthusiastic teenager or a newly acquired demanding puppy. If he had one failing, it was that latter aspect of his personality. The demanding part for he could be terribly tedious, even possessive.

Her makeup had to be just so likewise the outfits she wore, even her damn hemline. Heels were out, as was excess jewellery, particularly earrings. He also had an annoying habit of calling her at awkward moments to check that she was alright. It was very sweet of him but still bloody awkward at times. Her last bedmate hadn’t questioned for one second that it was her agent calling that late, but the hunk she’d picked up had been very sweet, naive and well-hung!  The latter making up for the void between his ears. The sex had been so heavenly that she’d forgotten all about it by the following morning. Once a wedding band had joined the huge diamond engagement cluster on her finger, there would have to be a few changes, mainly for Roger.  Kathy would put her foot down firmly on the threshold before allowing herself to be carried any further!

Had he become worse of late, or was that her imagination, and he hadn’t batted an eyelid the other night over dinner when she’d told him about the fucking car dealership? Hell, she’d been at her most winsome, hadn’t she and far from promptly promising to escort her to the nearest expensive car showroom the following day, all he’d done was mutter something about it being awkward for her and then attracted the waiter's attention and complained very politely about his lobster tasting a little odd to his palate! Very strange and unsympathetic behaviour!

“My, you managed to miss the front door by a fair old way!” Tiffany smiled and held out her hand as Kathy walked to meet her. Perfectly true, for her mind had still been on other things, and she’d driven straight past and pulled in a good distance away. She’d realised that as soon as she yanked on the handbrake but decided that reversing out and manoeuvring closer would have made her look even more foolish.

“I’m a lousy parker, plus I need the exercise,” Kathy said and then laughed, “Well, truth to tell, my mind was on other things!”

Tiffany laughed and said. “Wait till you see me in a supermarket car park, especially in reverse! Well, you got here. Mrs McCreadie will rustle up a hot drink with a wee drop of something extra in it if I know her. She’s the cook come housekeeper. She has been here for years and years.  Don't worry about your luggage; just let her have your keys, and Bob will sort it out. He’s her husband, our gardener and odd-job man—no need to worry. I think the last criminal type we had around here was hung for sheep stealing in the mid seventeen hundreds, so half the time, we don’t even bother locking the doors. Well, some we certainly do, she corrected herself with a girlish little giggle. “Welcome to Loch Doune House.  Don’t ask about the loch bit; no one knows where that came from, given the nearest one is miles away and not even called that anyway!” she laughed, taking Kathy’s left arm and steering her towards the steps and into the big house.

Two drifters, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see

Kathy half unpacked her suitcase, then changed her mind and went to the big window. She could see her car looking lonely and forlorn in that big empty area in front of the house. She'd followed some of that winding, bumpy gravel road, well track, and right down there, the small cottage by what must be the main gate. Rolling hills, mountains most with a light dusting of snow on top to one side and wild-looking open spaces of moorland on the other. Remote probably wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the vista. Pretty enough to enjoy on a short visit, but to a sociable, bright lights-loving city gal, the shorter the stay, the better! At least Roger had the big London townhouse, and even if he wasn’t interested in buying a little island, he could afford a couple of first-class tickets to somewhere warm every winter rather than here!

Actually, it was surprisingly warm despite the cold, austere appearance of the old house. Inside, it wasn’t as big as it appeared from the outside, and although some of the rooms and contents looked as though they belonged to another era, another century, those that seemed in regular use were less grand, more homely even cosy. Tiffany had said they were virtually self-sufficient. You couldn’t see them from the front, but the other side of the roof was covered in solar panels, plus they had their own little wind farm in a field out the back. Everything was electric now, whereas before, they’d had to use a ton of oil for the heating, which was a pain. Too near the stable when they had to refill the oil tank, Tiffany had muttered half to herself and then laughed.  I don’t want my ponies getting scared by the disturbance from a noisy tanker, do I? Now hardly anybody from the outside, as she oddly termed it, needed to visit.

Tiffany wasn’t quite what Kathy had been expecting. The girl only turned eighteen recently but was very mature, which she found somewhat unsettling for no reason she could identify—just a kind of inner feeling. Pretty enough to be an acceptable entrant for a beauty contest, although winning a prize might depend on the competition! Nor would she have gone very far in Kathy’s chosen cut-throat profession. Too petite for one thing and far too wholesome. Cute would be a better way of describing the girl. Cute with a rather serious adult attitude about her.

Long wavy red hair along with the traditional milky white skin and freckles many redheads have, and wasn’t bonnie Scotland one of those countries that traditionally produced more red-headed lassies than most? The girl seemed friendly, although Kathy was intuitive enough to know that might not be the case if you got on the wrong side of the self-assured young miss. She’d already made that mistake just after they’d passed through the big front door into the massive entrance hall.

She’d rather foolishly said something about ‘hoping they’d soon become great friends’ or words to that effect, which sounded rather crass now she rewound things in her mind, not to mention being somewhat lacking in originality. Her tone probably helped, either! Why hadn’t she thought more about a suitable introductory icebreaker as she travelled North rather than dwelling on her other problems? Her mind momentarily blanked out the beautiful highland view and switched into replay mode.

Tiffany had spun on her heel, stood for a second hand on jodhpur-clad hips, and regarded her coldly through those serious green eyes. Even in her fashionable riding boots, the girl probably didn’t stand five foot three, but she seemed far bigger at that moment. “I’m not a child, Kathy, so please don’t treat me like one. Let’s get that straight right away” then she laughed, tossed that glorious head of flowing red hair, and clapped her hands. “I get enough of that from dear old darling daddykins”.

The hand claps resulted in a motherly-looking rotund grey-haired woman, perhaps mid-sixties or so, wearing a frilly flower-patterned apron hurrying into the hall. She flashed a benign motherly smile at Tiffany, briefly dropped one knee into something resembling a cross between a curtsy and a simple bob towards Kathy, perhaps in acknowledgement of the new household mistress, and promptly disappeared. Tiffany waved one arm toward an open door and led her into a small, comfortably furnished lounge with a real log fire blazing away and a small flat-screen TV perched in one corner. Oh, well, Roger had told her he had a huge one in a special room mainly for watching sports, not that Kathy was an avid regular viewer, but there were certain reality shows she enjoyed.

 She’d been offered the opportunity to appear in several when she was younger but had turned them down on the advice of her agency. Perhaps a mistake now as some of the pretty faces had made it big, or biggish, hadn’t they? There was a large signed black-and-white framed photo on a silver plate next to the television featuring a pretty elegant woman in a black dress and long evening gloves, a tiara and a diamond necklace who looked familiar, but the name escaped her.

“Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the movie”, Tiffany had said, handing over a large and chunky-looking mug with a wee bit extra in to warm her up as the housekeeper had whispered. The woman had reappeared almost instantly, bearing the tray with the steaming mugs and some delicious homemade Scottish shortcake biscuits. “My mother’s favourite film, lordy, how many times did I hear the theme tune, Moon River, when I was a kid!” she had laughed.

“No need to ask about your name then”, Kathy chuckled.

“Nope, none at all. Apparently, daddy wanted to call me Moira after mummy. A good old Scottish name and his aunt and grandmother had been called that, middle name in the latter case.” She nibbled on a biscuit showing small beautiful white teeth and giggled. “Mummy had different ideas on the subject, and anything mummy wanted, mummy got, always! Poor daddy, more devoted slave, I think, than husband!”

Kathy had nodded sympathetically. “I know, your father, er, well he…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish what she wanted to say.

Tiffany sighed sadly. “Yes, I know, just a few weeks short of my eleventh birthday. That had been a very special one because  Mummy bought me my second pony, the one I’d so been looking forward to” she shrugged and looked way younger and vulnerable for a moment but only for the merest fraction of a second. “I still have them both, but I wish she could have been there to share the moment. Daddy was, and Sammie, of course, but it wasn’t the same without her to help with it”.

Kathy repeated the sympathetic nod. “I’m sure Roger, I mean your father tried to be a good stand in” She’d been about to ask who Sammie was but to her surprise, Tiffany had burst out laughing.

“Stand in, daddy, at the stable!” the girl chuckled as though at a huge joke. “No, no, no, not back then! That was always mummy’s little empire, not that he begrudged her hobby. Apparently, it took him a fair old while to adapt, but like I said before. Anything mummy wanted, mummy got” she paused and shrugged again. “Of course, it’s different nowadays, as he’s not so focused on making a ton of money every day, and he’s become quite partial to visiting the livestock, some of them anyway”, she laughed and added.  “He flies up frequently nowadays, most weekends unless he’s abroad making more money.”

Kathy frowned at that. Most weekends wasn’t what she had in mind—visiting once or twice a year and briefly, maybe!  “Flies up”, she queried.

Tiffany nodded, helping herself to another biscuit after first politely offering the plate to Kathy, who declined. Her bathroom scales had also recently joined the apparent coalition against her, and those delicious-looking biscuits probably contained a ton of butter.

“Helicopter, sorry”, Tiffany apologised, wiping her mouth. “He’s got one of his own. I’m sorry if I’d waited a week before inviting you up here, you could have used that, but it’s in for servicing or having some essential new widget fitted, no doubt at great expense, which will be better than whatever widget it replaced. It costs a fortune to run, and he’s always moaning about that, then uses the thing as though it were a bicycle. You know he’s even sent the pilot over to the airport on a Sunday morning before now just to get the Sunday newspapers! Shit, you know how much those things cost in fuel!”

Kathy blinked at that. True, Roger was generous and extravagant, even a touch flamboyant, but she knew he also had a reputation for being miserly. Kathy glanced automatically at the cluster of diamonds on the engagement ring he’d given her as he proposed over the dinner table. It must have cost a fortune, her first thought, and then, of course, she had that surreptitiously confirmed at a Bond Street jeweller the following day. Then that same evening, he’d embarrassed her by making a fuss about a minor error on the dinner bill! She moved her hand as she noted Tiffany also looking at her ring with something of a scowl that quickly morphed into a smile as she caught Kathy’s eye.

“You didn’t know about that?”

Kathy shook her head. “No, he never mentioned it, not once. I didn’t even know he had one!” She said a touch indignantly and frowned. How much easier would her journey have been, the latter stage anyway! Was Roger having second thoughts? He had been a little distant and reserved of late, plus she hadn’t seen him for nearly a fortnight till the other evening. That in itself was a little strange, given how attentive he’d been earlier in their growing relationship. A little too attentive at times, she reminded herself, thinking of those times she’d had to give him the brush off to satisfy her other needs.

In addition, she was still smarting about her car.  Given what he’d splashed out on that ring, what would it have cost him to provide her with a new set of wheels befitting her status rather than the cheap third-hand hairdresser’s runabout she had her eye on in a local garage through sheer necessity?

“Bad trip?” Tiffany inquired, breaking her train of thought.

“I’ve had better. Early taxi to the airport, and it was crowded for that time in the morning. I couldn’t believe it, heaving! Everyone flying South on cheapo package holidays to the Spanish sun, and hardly anyone heading North like me. Bars and restaurants packed. How can people drink like that at that time in the morning? The flight wasn’t too bad for that airline, but as you told me on the phone, they are the only one that regularly flies into that tiny airport from London. Then there was that primitive hire car booth with a moronic attendant. No automatics, of course, so I spent the first half hour ruining the gearbox and then trying to find this place. It didn’t like that SatNav setting you suggested either!” Kathy threw her hand up and then wished she hadn’t as a strange dizzy feeling suddenly hit her, making her blink several times in surprise.

“Are you all right?”

Kathy shook herself. “Yes, fine. Just a little light-headed. Probably the trip, early start, lack of sleep and worrying about getting lost on the way here. Maybe a bit of excitement as well. No big deal” she shook her head, trying to clear it. Strangely, she felt a bit funny, like when she’d fainted getting up. That had happened twice after watching TV. Low blood pressure and then sudden energetic movement, her doctor had said and didn’t appear overly concerned about it. Kathy had been, but it had only happened twice, and that was years ago now. Still, she did feel vaguely odd.

Tiffany nodded sympathetically. “My fault. I should have arranged for someone to meet you. I tend to forget how isolated we are here and how bad the local roads are. Still, I expect you met a few of the locals!” her face twitched into that curious little smile again.

“I should say so. I must have stopped at least half a dozen times to ask for directions. Isolated is right! Kathy stopped in surprise. “But you don’t live here all the time, surely?” she was astonished. Yes, maybe it was picturesque in a sort of rugged way, but to live here all year round, especially for a young girl. The large house had spent most of the last two centuries hosting seasonal grouse shooting parties till its absentee debt-ridden titled owner decided to sell it off along with other sizeable chunks of his rarely visited highland estate. At least, that’s what Roger had told her.

Tiffany laughed. “Why not? Home is where the heart is, or so they say. I’ve lived here full-time, except for boarding school, but I quit that when I was fourteen. Daddy fixed it up. Home-schooling and Sammie tutored. She used to be a teacher, a friend of mummies who accepted a job here way back when I was a kid. Besides, I’m not a thicky. I did pretty well in my exams last year. All A’s and only one B. Could have done better in that last one if I’d tried harder, but it was my weakest subject”.

Kathy shook her head in amazement. “But don’t you find it, I mean”, she waved a hand towards a window. “I mean, surely you must get bored living way out here” She was going to add in the sticks but decided not to at the last moment. “I mean, what on earth do you do all day?”

Tiffany smiled and shook her head. “No, I can’t recall ever being bored. Anyway, we're hardly a thousand miles from civilisation. How long did it take you to get here? A few hours even if you did get lost a few times, I expect”.

“More than a few”, Kathy muttered irritably.

“My fault, but no, I never get bored. I had my schoolwork, and I plan on doing a degree, and maybe I will go away for that,” Tiffany mused. “Terms are relatively short and holidays long at Uni, but I’ll have to see how I feel. I’m going to give myself a year to think about it.  A sort of non-gap, gap year without backpacking halfway around the world!  I’ll almost certainly do something, but maybe opt for the Open University correspondence stuff. I would miss my ponies if I went away, which is my main numero uno interest and running the place for Daddy. Plus, I enjoy helping Bob around the house, and there is always plenty to do in a place this size and age, never mind the stable and outbuildings. I’m pretty hot, you know, with a toolbox or an electric drill,” she paused and giggled.

 “Everything bar electricals. Daddy said no to that. Carpentry, plumbing, painting, plastering, wallpapering, you name it but nothing electrical. I had to promise him that. After all, a dripping tap or a roll of wallpaper isn’t likely to kill me, but electrics are a wee bit trickier!” the girl stopped abruptly, put a finger to her lips, and acted, making her look about six years younger. “Maybe I could even do an apprenticeship in the building trade. Did you know that Winson Churchill was a member of the Amalgamated Union of Bricklayers and built his own brick walls around his country house because he found it therapeutic?”

No, she didn’t, Kathy thought, responding with a neutral grunt. Tiffany was not what she’d expected, not one bit, and she wasn’t entirely sure what her approach should be. Big sister, maybe? She searched for an entry hook and found one.

“You keep horses; you like riding.” Kathy smiled. “I’m not all that knowledgeable on the subject, I’m afraid” she shook her head again to clear that fuzzy feeling and frowned. Why did she feel like that? “I’ve been to a few race meetings and once visited a racing stable and stud farm. I’ve never seen so many horses!”

She didn’t add that she’d found the race meeting and the stud farm boring. She’d only gone to the other race meetings because they attracted the right social set, and it was good to be seen with them and photographed for the society glossies, especially with her sporty white BMW. Quaffing a few glasses of champers and eating a picnic out of the boot with B-list showbiz types, even some A-listers went down well with the dealership when they saw the photos in the media.  Besides that, she couldn’t get worked up about the business; even the betting left her cold, and all the horses looked virtually identical, apart from the odd grey or black one. Growing up in the care home, Kathy had never owned a pet; to her, the horses were merely big, potentially dangerous and distinctly smelly oversized and over-pampered pets.

“My main interest” Tiffany selected her third biscuit, took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, looking at Kathy. “Your one up on me. I’ve never been to a stud farm, but I remember it was something mummy and Sammie discussed before…before the accident.” Her eyes suddenly widened as if another thought had suddenly occurred to her, and she gazed into the distance for a moment and then back to Kathy” Interesting”, she muttered, wiping a few biscuit crumbs off her lips. “I hadn’t even thought about that potential aspect!”

Kathy blinked partly because of what Tiffany had said and partly because...what the hell was wrong with her head? “Interesting?”

“Oh, nothing” Tiffany smiled. “Just something I hadn’t considered. It just popped into my mind. Look, why don’t you head upstairs? I’ll show you to your room, freshen up a bit and then pop back down—no need to change. Informality is the general rule, and dinner will be a while yet. I showed you those big rooms off the hall before we sat down, so now, we can walk around the rear gardens, and I’ll show you my pride and joy, the stable. You look as though a whiff of fresh air wouldn’t go amiss!”

“The horses” Kathy did not precisely say it as she felt, but she was aware that her reply lacked enthusiasm. In fact, she didn’t feel terribly enthusiastic about anything, but having just arrived and given the potential delicacy of the situation, taking a little afternoon nap right now might seem like some sort of a slur or similar insult. Tiffany seemed friendly enough, at least on the surface, but how deep did that surface go?

Tiffany laughed. “Sort of horses. I tend to specialise more in ponies. At least, that is the accepted term for them. Big old Thundercloud, mummy’s handsome grey stallion, is very much in the horse category.  I’ve had him for years. Mummy bought him years ago when he was young Thundercloud back then. Come on, upsy-daisy!” she grinned, launched herself out of her chair, pulled Kathy upright, and steadied her as she staggered slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kathy nodded; the prospect of that nap seemed ever more attractive, but no. “Fine, just a little lightheaded. I was up early, skipped breakfast, and did not sleep much last night with the excitement of coming. I’ll be fine. A bit of fresh air is probably just what I need right now!”

We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend

My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me

 There was a soft knock on the door so soft that Kathy half missed it the first time. She was frowning thinking about it as though she didn’t know how to respond when it came again a little louder, and then the door slowly opened, and a head peered cautiously around. A comic-looking, almost clownish head with a big pair of thick-rimmed black spectacles, a pointed goatee beard and a bald head save for two pyramid-shaped tufts of hair sticking out at matching angles above each ear that effectively mimicked that silly goatee.

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I knocked several times. I’m Bob. I brung your bags up earlier from the car. Miss Tiffany is waiting on you downstairs in the big hall.  Sorry for interrupting you!”  The head politely withdrew.

Kathy shook her head for the umpteenth time. Knocked several times? Had she actually fallen asleep, she silently asked the familiar figure looking back at her from the dressing table mirror. How could she have done for the bed was untouched? She’d washed her face and hands, freshening herself up as Tiffany had suggested and then set about repairing her face. Something that had become habitual over the last what, ten, eleven years if the product on view was to remain saleable. But then was it. Did she look so much different these days, or was it, as her friend Jodie had said a few weeks back? ‘Look, Kathy, when you and I started, there were those that thought sixteen was on the young side. Hell, now we have twelve-year-olds running popular fashion and cosmetic YouTube channels’.

Maybe she should have done what Jodie had done, married a premier league footballer with a five-figure weekly salary and quit the business three years ago. But she had been having far too much fun even to consider doing that. Nor had there been a shortage of well-endowed bedmates to extend her entertainment into the small hours!

Kathy had been maid of honour at the swish showbiz-like wedding, but she’d thought her friend's early retirement foolish at the time. Now, Jodie had a massive six-bedroom house complete with swimming pool, a garage full of luxury motors, two adorable kids and hubby was good for a few more years earning that insane weekly salary. Who had been the fool? Kathy stood up, waited a few seconds for that persistent dizzy feeling to wear off and then headed for the door. Inner ear, she wondered, another of those infections like she and two other girls picked up from that suspect swimming pool in Malaga the other year?

She went to the bathroom looking for a tooth mug or glass, found one, rinsed it, and drank cold water. Her mouth also had a funny taste that seemed to have gotten stronger despite the water. The housekeeper Mrs, whatever her name, had asked hot chocolate, tea or coffee. Kathy had opted for the chocolate on a whim, it being years since she’d last had any. With a laugh, the woman said a wee drop of something extra to keep a skinny wee bairn like you warm after your long cold journey. Yeah, she’d tasted that, a drop of Scotland’s finest, no doubt, but the local distillery wouldn’t get many repeat export orders if this were the after-effect.

Anyway, it wasn’t that cold and hardly a long journey either. Kathy thought it wasn’t as if she’d trekked to the north pole, rummaging through her three cases to find a scarf and wind it around her neck. She even grinned, for she’d noticed that slight inflection in Bob’s voice when he said bags. He obviously didn’t understand why someone like her required three large suitcases for a simple weekend away!

‘A drop of something to warm up the wee bairn, the housekeep had said. Well, I’m hardly a wee bairn, she thought as she left the room, mentally translating the woman’s Scottish brogue into English. Twenty-seven years old and five feet ten and a half in her stocking feet. Neither small nor a child! They said five-nine was the desirable height for a model, precisely what Kathy had been at age sixteen. That’s why all those big-boobed pint-sized teenage wannabe’s ended up flashing said boobs for a living rather than strutting catwalks in Milan or Paris!

Kathy paused at a turn in the impressive staircase to look at a huge picture, an oil painting she had somehow missed going up. Tiffany was waiting by the front door, but she had her back to her, clutching a cell phone to her ear. It was an enormous portrait of a woman mounted on a large grey horse. Kathy knew nothing about art, but whoever had painted this one had caught both movement and action to the degree that made you think you saw movement. Very clever and skilful.

The horse was rearing its front legs in the air while the woman in traditional red-coated riding dress was half-turned in the saddle, swinging a long slender riding whip downwards. You could almost see the movement of those legs and that swinging switch.  A small engraved brass title plate was at the bottom of the frame. ‘Mastering Thundercloud’. Kathy glanced down towards the door and then back to the picture. No doubting who the rider was. Not beautiful in the classic sense, but that same red hair and elfin prettiness her daughter had inherited. Mature and lacking that youthful cuteness Tiffany radiated, her expression was a little disturbing. A sort of snarling triumphant look, part anger and part joy, odd!

“Mummy on Thundercloud”, Tiffany called up. “She hadn’t him all that long when that was taken, so he was still a wee bit temperamental!”

“Taken?” Kathy queried, joining the girl at the bottom of the staircase and pausing again as her head gave another twinge. “Taken?” she repeated.

Tiffany nodded and took her arm. “From a photo daddy took. If you look closely, an illegible signature is in the bottom right corner. The guy is famous in racing circles, and daddy commissioned this one as a Christmas present. Kind of catches the eye, doesn’t it?

“It certainly does”, Kathy agreed, wondering how she’d missed it earlier and  enjoying the blast of cold upland air on her face as they exited

Tiffany laughed. “Apparently, they had a bit of a disagreement over it. Daddy and the artist, I mean. I take after mummy, and the guy wanted to make her a bit bigger, taller in the saddle because, given the size of old Thundercloud, it would look better perspective-wise. Daddy would have none of it, though. Told the guy that was the whole point of the picture and why he was commissioning it. A sort of beauty and the beast theme and where was the artist was coming from anyway!” Tiffany giggled. “Told the silly idiot he’d spent his entire career painting jockeys on horses, so where the hell was he coming from with the bigger rider proportional crap!”

Kathy nodded and smiled politely, getting the point. She had met a few of the more successful jockeys at various functions and always found it a little embarrassing, given her height and love of heels for those occasions. Flats were fine for certain things, such as country rambles and extended shopping trips but not for dates. Kathy liked to see eye to eye with her guys in the physical sense rather than the spiritual sense, and logic dictated that if they were tall, they’d likely stand tall elsewhere for her.

Roger was six feet two and ramrod straight. Indeed, he’d spurned a university place and gone to Sandhurst, that army officer school place, followed by seven years in the Scots Guards, complete with a big bearskin hat and red tunic.  She’d asked him if he’d ever met the queen, and he’d laughed and said he had, but many years later. He did admit that he’d had his ankle savaged by a royal corgi once while on palace duty, but given the way he’d grinned at her, she’d taken that with a large pinch of salt. Anyway, soldiers wore boots, didn’t they?

Roger had told her his daughter favoured her mother's height, not him. Moria had also topped out at five foot three but had one of those personalities that make you think the person is seven feet tall! Tiffany had barely achieved her mother's height but managed the seven feet tall personality just as confidently. Kathy quickly glanced at the self-assured young woman guiding her along. She could agree with that, and even adopting the elder sister scenario might be pushing it. Maybe it would be different in London, for that was her home ground, but up here, she was the one feeling decidedly unsure and juvenile! Oh, if only that dizziness and strange fug in her head would disappear.

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossin' you in style some day

 “Fresh air will soon clear your head, I expect. Good clean northern stuff, none of your polluted London smog!” Tiffany said confidently as they headed for the big old stable building twenty minutes and two more woozy turns later. They’d inspected the once sizeable rose garden, now chiefly dormant, another big fishpond with some huge carp that crowded to the edge in a splashing frenzy expecting to be fed. An immense vegetable garden that went on and on with rows and rows of green stuff in various stages of evolution and a veritable mini forest of fruit bushes in straight lines. Tiffany went on and on about it, which was boring to someone who ate fruit and vegetables but hadn’t the slightest interest in how they worked!

“Orchard down there”, Tiffany had pointed. “Apples, eaters and cooking plus some pears, plums, even a few cherries. We are virtually self-sufficient, what with chicken coops way down that way, plus a couple of cows and a few pigs. A cousin of Bob’s mostly manages them and helps in the veg garden. I do as well. I like watching things grow,” she broke off abruptly and gave a sudden giggle glancing sideways at Kathy’s trim figure. “Always have and don’t mind getting my hands dirty”, she laughed, holding them out and wiggling her fingers.

Nothing artificial there, Kathy noted. Nice nails, not long but not chewed down to the quick either. Ugh, she shuddered at that thought. One of her pet hates. Indeed, there was nothing remotely artificial about Tiffany. Kathy automatically reached for her cosmetics every morning, even if she wasn’t going anywhere, whereas Tiffany was the opposite. Clean, scrubbed, and prettily fresh-faced. Wholesome was the word that came to her mind. Roger hadn’t said all that much about her had he now she came to think about it.

Come to that, did she know that much about Roger? They’d been introduced at a party, not a very good one, and he’d looked decidedly out of place and uncomfortable. Looking exactly like she felt so, they’d got talking, shared a couple of chuckles at the expense of their hosts, made their excuses and regrouped in a small but very expensive Chinese restaurant along the Bayswater Road that Roger favoured. One of those that served real authentic Chinese food, not the stuff local fast-food takeaways churned out nationwide that most Chinese citizens wouldn’t touch even with a ten-foot chopstick!

By no means her first experience with normal-sized ones, but she had been surprised when they served exotic dish after dish but no rice. Roger had explained that in China, in polite society, rice was regarded as a ‘poor man’s food’ a filler up, and it would be served almost last just in case they still had a little room left. Taking a small amount was considered acceptable, but shovelling it in as though stoking a boiler would be an insult because you were still hungry after your meal!”

Roger had told her a little about his wife and Tiffany on their second date, again at another exclusive restaurant, an Italian one in Soho. Matrimony was something he’d thought he’d missed till he met Moira. She’d been the love of his life despite a twenty-year difference in their ages and tragically killed in a collision with a tractor some years before. Just one of those things he had said sadly, neither driver was at fault or maybe both. The inquest had reached no decision blame-wise—two fatalities in atrocious winter weather conditions, the full details never to be known. Then a few years later, he’d confessed to making a complete fool of himself with a second marriage to someone nearer his age. Well, a little nearer, he’d laughed and then grown reflective.

It didn’t work out, and he’d sighed. I might as well tell you. I was looking for company into my approaching senior years, but she was looking for more than that. I could give her money, she was undoubtedly fond of that, but she was demanding in other ways that were harder for me to fulfil. No pun intended! Bitch emptied a private vault, a bank account, and three credit card accounts before I caught on and then did a runner with her lover, a younger guy I employed as a pilot occasionally. He sighed again, adding. Not that it had done either of them any good nor me come to that. My company plane went down in the North Sea. He was a Norwegian chap, young, big and blonde, presumably making for home at my expense. Nothing ever found, but then, he’d shrugged. Winter in the North Sea is not a good time to go swimming.

Roger had shaken his head, looking terribly sad, adding that being lucky in love was evidently not for him. Maybe he should stop going out with younger women and find someone his own age. That mischievous grin had briefly returned as he’d said that, making him look ten years younger, then promptly vanished. Would you believe it? I failed again shortly after. I never seem to learn. Another dammed way too young gold-digger!

Kathy had taken umbrage at that and taken issue. Pointing out that she was not, repeat not a gold digger, no way and anyway, hadn’t she insisted on paying her share, going Dutch at the Chinese restaurant and done so despite all his silliness and macho arguments? She hadn’t even known how loaded he was back then, had she?  Well, not to the full extent, although she had heard a whisper at that party. Gold-digger indeed!

Once more, Kathy paused and shook her head to clear that growing fog. It had seemed to have taken ages to reach that long red brick building with that funny-looking addition on top. Neither dovecote, bell tower, nor oriental pagoda but a seeming mishmash of all three. His lordships folly presumably a century or two back!   

“Are you sure you’re all right” Tiffany held her arm again but much tighter and peered at her with a curious expression on her pretty face. Odd, Kathy thought. She wasn’t feeling all right, far from it, but that wasn’t what struck her as odd. Tiffany didn’t look, what? Not overly concerned. Kathy’s brain switched from weird architectural add-ons to her companion’s face.  Curious, yes, but that look on her fresh young face wasn’t, wasn’t…

“I think I need to sit down!” Kathy gasped as her legs seemed determined to do their own thing, and supporting her weight wasn’t on their immediate agenda.

“Took your time getting here, girl” it was a new voice, older and lacking that soft Scottish burr that Tiffany and the others had. “I mean, what is so fascinating about gawping at beans, peas and bloody cabbages, for heaven’s sake. Here, I’ll take her now”.

A statement Kathy would have agreed with ten minutes ago, but now it hardly registered. A new face, much older, close-cropped blonde hair with a piercing above one eye and tattoos on the arm that reached out. Kathy loathed tattoos and body piercings. A faded green dragon breathing equally faded red curly frames. What the fuck, was she ill, fainting, what…

“Took longer to take effect than I expected, but all’s good. No, I’m okay,” Tiffany said, sounding far away. A very long way away. “You take her other side, grab that arm. Come on, Sam, quick, while the money-grubbing slut still has a bit of go left in her legs, walk her in, quick! I want the bitch to know she walked in here on her own two feet!”

“Why, for heaven's sake?”

“Because I do, that’s why!”

“Okay, girl, you’re the boss, just like your mother. Half the time, she never explained diddly squat either. Up your end a little, lift. Quick afore she goes completely!”

Kathy felt herself lifted, figures on either side, her head spinning, fog, nausea……

“Remind me to get that ring off her finger asap. Daddy is very old-fashioned about some things, and that was a binding contract as far as he was concerned, and this randy money-grubbing slut broke it every night of the week or so that detective guy I suggested he hired told him. Poor old daddykins failed in love again!”

Not every night, Kathy thought indignantly and wanted to say so, for it seemed important. She felt so strange. So very strange, as though floating on air even though her legs touched the ground; sheesh, what was that appalling stench? Money-grubbing? “I’m not”, she murmured aloud because it seemed especially important, “not another damned gold-digger!” then the blackness overtook her.

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

 That same stench. Always that same foul smell when she opened her eyes, dragged from the normality of blissful uncaring sleep to a living nightmare from which there seemed no waking. Dragged back to a bizarrely cruel and abnormal world by that hideous bell that began to sound again even as she shook her head, trying to clear her sleep-befuddled head. Hell, no!

Kathy rolled over and struggled frantically to her knees, ignoring the pain and stiffness in her legs and body. An inadequate mattress of dank, flattened straw on a soft dirt floor was no substitute for the expensive branded memory foam one she usually slept on. Nor was that harsh electric bell akin to the soothing electronic melody with which her overnight charged iPhone gently heralded the start of a brand-new day.

The panic that immediately overcame her did not help her frantic attempts to gain her feet, the hobble chain between her legs, and the fact that she could not use her arms. Panic was an effective motivator, and fear was an even better one. Panic and fear generated by other more tangible motivators and those who used them to achieve and satisfy their perverse whims!

It had taken three attempts before she could stand upright, subconsciously shaking bits of straw and particles of soft black dirt off her body as a big dog might do with water droplets as it emerged from the sea or river. To her horror, that bell had rung briefly for a second time as she struggled and then fallen ominously silent, which could only mean one thing. Kathy had somehow missed the first of the three summons the bell demanded. One, two, three, with only a brief interval between each as an unforgiving finger depressed the push switch.

One to end beddy, one to be steady and one to be ready. That was the silly childish rule that had to be obeyed every single morning by the occupants of the stable. Kathy had learned that in the first few days, but not to her face. Just about everything Kathy had learned in those first few days had come sideways, obliquely, indirectly fed to her by her captors as they talked to each other. No, they never spoke to her face; why should they? To them, Kathy was just an animal, now, wasn’t she? Apparently, an important animal, a special animal, an animal little miss fucking sadistic brat Tiffany had plans for, but still just an animal like all her others!

Kathy staggered towards the front of her stall to stand as was required each morning. Head up, eyes straight ahead, chest out, legs together and not so much as a twitch to be seen. A fortnight, no, not even that, and she was already well on the way to emulating a statue-like red-coated guardsman outside Buckingham palace. Indeed, the similarities imposed hadn’t been lost on her. One of her many boyfriends had been a young lieutenant in a guard’s regiment, and she had joined the tourists to watch him doing his duty there on several occasions. Her chocolate box toy soldier, the friend who’d accompanied her once, had laughed.  Poor Simon, might he have been the one out of all those who’d shared her bed more than once? Perhaps something more permanent would have come of their growing fondness for one another. Unfortunately, his parents hadn’t approved of a relationship with a popular model. Then a bomb, one of those terrible IED roadside devices in Afghanistan, proved that ‘chocolate box red tunic toy soldiers’ had other duties besides entertaining foreign tourists. Poor Simon.

Kathy bit her lip, trying hard to concentrate and prevent her eyes from watering. Life was hard enough without thinking about poor Si, especially as Ms Sammie was already in front of her stall, leaning forward on the low door, elbows resting on the top and that terrible long thin switch in one hand. Kathy’s eyes couldn’t help looking at that horrible thing, but only for the merest second before they resumed staring over the evil women’s cropped blonde head into the rafters on the far side as she reached her assigned spot and stood ridged as was required. Or as rigid as she could, for she couldn’t control her bodies involuntary trembling at the unwelcome closeness of the other woman.

Kathy could smell that fresh, clean scented warm body odour that contrasted so sharply with the rank smell that her filth body emitted. She didn’t need to look at the woman’s hard face to see those cold, contemptuous ice-blue eyes filled with cruel amusement nor the expression on her face. Kathy had already spent far too much time seeing that merciless and unforgiving face, which was enough to last her an entire lifetime. Indeed, the past few weeks already felt like a lifetime and more. She felt herself trembling even as she tried to stand so stiff and still. She couldn’t help it, for she knew she’d disobeyed the bell’s summons yet again and failed to present herself as required. Late on parade, as poor Simon might have laughed and teased her. Punctuality had never been one of her strong points when arriving for a date!

No one laughed here, though, not in this dreadful place. It was so unjust, silly, and ridiculous, not those in the stalls anyway, for how could they find humour in this crazy situation?  How could you go from being hard and fast asleep to full wakefulness and dutiful wide-eyed attentiveness in such a minuscule timespan? Press wait, press wait and press again with zero tolerance. She was trying her best, was she not unlike the first few confusing days? Trying, not through personal choice, but to avoid the inevitable and painful consequences of disobeying the sour-faced blondes stupid rules. No, not hers, Miss Fucking sadistic little weirdo brat, Tiffany’s bloody rules! Or maybe those of her long-dead mother who’d started this bizarre charade!

Kathy stood there trembling, feeling those cold blue eyes upon her, revelling in the cruel authority their owner exercised over her and how completely helpless she was to prevent the bitch from doing just as she wished whenever she wished. Gloating was the term, gloating! Then she sensed as much as saw the woman move silently onto the next stall. Christ, she came and went like a bloody ghost, her boots making no sound on the soft muck covering the floor. You never knew when you were safe from her appearing as she did without warning! Well, not quite true. Sometimes there had been a warning that left a livid painful strip across your bottom or thigh!

Kathy had been introduced to that horrible bell on her first morning. It’s insistent if brief ringing had awakened her to a strange and terrifying world. A world that took her a while to fully comprehend, and her second conscious action after opening her eyes was to empty the contents of her stomach. At least her body convulsed and tried to do that, but nothing other than a thin bile emerged as she rolled about on the dirt floor! Her nose and eyes had told her why for it wasn’t just dirt she was rolling around in; it hadn’t been just her mouth and stomach contributing to the revolting yuk! Other body openings added their quota to the persistent stench surrounding her.

Fully comprehending might not have been the correct term, as Kathy realised later how any sane, civilised person could comprehend what she awoke to that morning. The lights were very bright, and her nostrils filled with a terrible animal-like reek that exceeded what her body must have produced. It smelled like what?  Despite her strange situation, a memory of a photo shoot a few years back emerged. That disgusting circus in Eastern Europe they used as a backdrop. They’d still had animal acts, and she’d been invited; backstage was the wrong term. Back big tent, maybe afterwards, with the other two girls and the rest of the crew for drinks and a small buffet.

Looking back, none of them had eaten much because of the pervading smell that hung over everything. Seeing how the wretched animals were confined had not helped their appetites either. Now, as she stood there in that enclosed, stinking little space, she was the animal confined, but no, that would never happen to her. That crazy little bitch had got it all wrong; she could not do this to her, NO WAY. Kathy forgot the morning rules, tamped her right foot angrily into the dirt, spinning around in a full circle, shaking herself as though she somehow could slough off her rage by doing so and then stopped dead. Her young captor was looking at her over the low door, and even as Kathy stared back, Tiffany shook her head, giving the latest occupant of her stable a small, sad wry smile that somehow contrived not to be a smile at all!

Two drifters, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see

 A dozen days earlier, Kathy might have seen that same smile on the girl’s face as she regarded another of the stable’s occupants before delivering the worst beating it had ever received, and it had received a fair few by that time. Tiffany rarely lost her temper, seldom shouted or raised her voice. Nor did she use abusive language very often, and, unlike her senior stable Mistress, she tended to smile rather than scowl or sneer at her captive animals. After all, why shouldn’t she, for she delighted in her ownership and dominion over them just as her mother had once done! Her mum always smiled so sweetly when disciplining an unruly pony.

Strangely Kathy didn’t feel frightened, not for those first confusing moments. Puzzled and disorientated more than anything else, she rolled about on or, more like in, some gritty substance that, while soft, certainly wasn’t a mattress!  It was dark but not pitch dark, for somewhere, there were lights on that threw a limited amount of illumination into the room, no enclosure that she lay in. Narrow with no ceiling other than something way above and only just visible in that dim light. A small red light halfway up winked at her like the one on the fire detector in her kitchen.

Kathy shook her head and instantly wished she hadn’t the way it felt, and began slowly taking stock of the situation. Her brain slowly began to function despite the fuzzy feeling in her head that accompanied one mother of a headache. What wouldn’t she give right now for a couple of paracetamols and a glass of water? Hell, forget the pills; given that foul taste in her mouth, she would have killed just for the glass of water! At that point as she tried to sit up and failed twice. Then she realised why she was struggling to perform such a simple operation and immediately felt foolish and very alarmed!

She could not use her arms, not at all! They were secured behind her back, one atop the other in tight, restrictive garments. She could wriggle her fingers slightly within what contained them. Her nails scraped against the soft unyielding material. Leather perhaps? A strong whiff of that material in the air competed with that foul animal reek. That fact had hardly registered when a far more shocking one did, along with that first kick of real fear in her stomach as she looked down at her bare boobs and prominent nipples.

Her eyes adjusted, and Kathy stared at them in complete shock as though seeing them for the first time. Her sluggish brain struggled to catch up and process what her eyes saw. What the fu…. She blinked several times and shook her head, keeping her eyes closed momentarily as the little grey cells behind finally got their act together, going into reheat to catch up. Both eyes closed for a second, then her left eye opened first, immediately followed by the right, and then that boot in her belly promptly delivered another savage kick!

Apart from a tight black leather corset-like garment with numerous D rings, she was completely naked! Not just a horrible alien garment but one that was way too tight, she realised as her panic-stricken lungs also went into overdrive. Fuck, she could hardly breathe in the damn thing that was trying to strangle her midriff. Kathy wasn’t one of those thin matchstick models the fashion business loved so much. She had curves, not to excess, but they were there partly disguised by her height, and she was somewhat proud of the fact plus, having a trim waist and rigorously watching calories had helped. Now it felt as though that trimness was being forcefully trimmed by several more inches, and there wasn’t much give in that leather thing she was wearing!

Worse, her breasts were blatantly in full view of the world for the first time in her life, not just her breasts either, and it was that shocking realisation that banished more of the confused fog from her brain, pushing her consciousness from fuzzy autopilot to full manual control. WHAT THE FUCK! She thought she’d shrieked it aloud momentarily, so strong was her feeling of outrage. Then she did just that; her lungs and throat gave full vent to her feeling with a few other choice expletives added to express her anger and amazement at whatever was happening to her. Irritation, shock and rage instinctively replaced reflective thought and shouting and screaming was by far the more instinctive and natural reaction.

So great was her perplexed fury that she broke off and started hiccupping for a few moments until she counted slowly to ten, calmed down a little and brought herself back under control. Kathy had always prided herself on that ability, keeping her cool no matter the situation or the provocation. As a popular model, she’d faced her fair share of potentially awkward situations, both professionally and privately. She paused for breath sucking in great mouthfuls despite the best efforts of that horrible tight corset strangling her midriff.  What the fuck! That phrase was bouncing around inside her head as Kathy stared around the bare brick wall of her narrow enclosure on one side, the wooden wall on the other and then at the low wooden door at the open end. Kathy could hear muted sounds from whatever lay beyond, but that was all, so she gave vent to her feelings once more in a slightly more controlled verbal manner as her brain sought to make some sense of this bizarre situation she’d found on waking.

There was a chain of some sort between her ankles like convicts wore in the olden days, but it wouldn’t prevent her from getting to her feet, would it? So, she tried and failed. Trying to get up without using your hands was not the easiest thing to do. There was something else as well, Kathy quickly realised. As much as she wanted to escape some of the yuk she’d been laying in, her brain said no. It wasn’t just the difficulty of trying to stand, but her head instantly objected to her making an attempt. It wasn’t yet ready to face the world from a vertical perspective, but she wasn’t prepared to heed such advice. Kathy desperately wanted to see what lay beyond that low wooden door, so she gritted her teeth, rolled over and then, using her knees, slowly rose determinedly, if shakily, to her feet.

A part of that pervading stink that surrounded her seemed to rise with her. Indeed, its foul source was splattered upon her body, legs, and bare feet, making her retch heavily, but only a thin, bitter bile emerged to be instantly spat out. Instinctively Kathy tried to wipe the skein of spittle from her mouth, then realised that she couldn’t and cried out in frustration as she shook herself from side to side. Her right foot stamped angrily into the soft squidgy dirt before realising with disgust that it wasn’t just dirt she’d trodden in.

Kathy stood shakily on her feet, looking about with a growing, if odd contradicting, sense of both awareness and bewilderment. Her journey North, that bloody irritating drive, constantly getting lost! She’d flown, driven and then met the girl, Tiffany. She’d felt funny, odd and wobbly, and they’d gone for a walk, looked at loads of vegetables and stuff, then gone to see the stable and…Kathy gasped and looked around her and caught sight of a long row of rusty horseshoes nailed to a nearby beam.  She was in that stable, wasn’t she? In a fucking stall, a horse stall, for fucks sake! She shook her head, but why? She looked down at herself, a vague if improbable idea forming. A memory of an odd photo shoot some years ago, then a movement to her front instantly diverted that thought process.

“Who are you? What….where….what the fuck is going on?”

The woman was looking at her over the entrance door, not looking the least friendly nor sympathetic. Amused, yes, but there wasn’t a hint of compassion in those  piercing ice-blue eyes nor on that face. Late forties, maybe older, with close-cropped blonde hair, attractive perhaps once but in a chiselled hard-faced butch way, and no doubting her sexuality. Kathy shivered; she’d met women like that all too often during her modelling career, and any attraction was decidedly one way so far as she was concerned. The absence of communication was even more chilling than the look, even though she tried twice more. Nothing, just the merest twitch of the thin lips and then she disappeared with a sort of grunt that might have meant anything. A moment later, a loud shrill bell rang, stopped, and sounded twice more.

Kathy had stared disbelievingly at that vacated space for a moment in astonishment and then instinctively started shouting again as her anger and indignation blotted every other thought and emotion out for a couple of minutes.  Kathy had no idea how long she had made that commotion. Still, she must have used every foul and obscene word in her vocabulary several dozen times before she finally lapsed into a breathless, bewildered silence. She also realised that she’d been subconsciously stamping her bare right foot up and down into that filthy yuk again!

Even as she contemplated hobbling to the nearest wall and wiping her foot against it, the blonde head and torso reappeared. This time the door swung open as the hard-faced woman entered, strode several paces forwards, spun Kathy around and then, holding her by whatever was restraining her arms, pushed her so that she hobbled forward as best she could towards the doorway and bigger space beyond. Taken by surprise, Kathy had managed only a few mincing little steps, handicapped by that chain between her legs, before she recovered both wits and voice and dug her feet in quite literally!

“Hey! Watch it, what the fuck, what do you think, yooooooow!”

Further one-way communication was instantly terminated as she was twisted and propelled into the nearside wall, her head roughly grabbed by the hair and banged against the brickwork twice before being pushed forward again.

“Hey, hey, wha…”

The previous action was repeated twice more in that short distance to that open doorway. By the time she found herself propelled through and into the bigger space beyond, Kathy had got both a sore head and the simple message, not to mention being shit scared! The moment she tried to say anything, it was head-banging time, and that big blonde dyke didn’t do gently. The last thing Kathy needed was violent contact between her head and a rough brick wall right now!

In any case, Kathy’s bewildered attention was already focused elsewhere, and that growing pit of fear in her stomach had become a gaping chasm. She was being force-marched down a long, lofty narrow building, a stable, and she counted six stalls on either side. She must have been in the first on the left, still indignant, hurting and shuffling along in confusion that she’d missed the next one but not the third. A girl, no a woman, large, heavy breasts jutting forward above a purple corset, the woman’s face partly hidden behind leather straps, her mouth part open but blocked and odd looking, and her hair rising in an auburn cascade atop her partially shaven head. What the fuck? She twisted her round to the left to keep the woman in sight.

Kathy’s curiosity had not gone unnoticed as she heard an evil-sounding laugh from behind. The pushing movement abruptly halted, her unfettered breasts swinging and bouncing slightly as they’d only ever done in that morning dash twixt bed and bathroom. A handful of her hair was grabbed, then her head roughly twisted enough to hurt her neck so that she looked back to where they’d come from, and then her head was slowly moved, left to right in an arc.

“Curious, eh, Pony?” the woman behind sniggered. “Wanna see your new neighbours? Miss Tiffany’s little herd, do you?”

Kathy foolishly attempted to nod, a purely subconscious reaction but not a good idea, as the hand gripping her hair tightened and cruelly twisted along with a hissed verbal warning. “Stand, pony, still, girl, still!”

Kathy squeaked as her roots protested but made no other sound. Strange because there was a whole lexicon of words she wanted to scream aloud, a raft of questions and demands for a rational explanation, and yet bar that squeak, nothing else emerged from her mouth. Partly shock and partly because she did not want her head banged against any more bricks! Besides, it was her eyes doing all the work at that moment.

The hand turned her head slowly, giving her a slow panoramic view of the stable and its occupants, for there was more than one. There was an open low door to the space she’d recently occupied, and Kathy noticed a big, tarnished brass number one on the wooden frame above the doorway. Nothing was visible in the next one down and then that big-breasted woman who’d caught her eye. Next to her in number four was a tall, very tall man in contrast to his female neighbour sporting an incongruous blonde Mohican haircut! Broad-shouldered but also wearing an identical purple, as were the straps covering most of his face. Kathy gawped at him in astonishment before the hand gripping her head moved her on, noting that although she was only a few feet away, he wasn’t even looking at her.  He stood rigid like a statue staring straight ahead, his head tilted slightly upward, and then she noticed the odd-looking high collar around his neck.

“What the fu….yow, give over!” Kathy had instinctively tried to look back at the woman in number three but wasn’t allowed to do that. Her head was being twisted in the opposite direction, and trying to resist that pressure was painful plus, she was propelled several yards forward and had to concentrate lest the wretched thing anchoring her legs together tripped her up. Number five held another leather-harnessed woman, shocking pink this time. Very petite and slender with a high dark ponytail and small perky breasts. She stood the same as the others, stiff, still paying not the slightest attention to anything other than something unseen by Kathy high in the roof beams to her right. Strange, but then what wasn’t at that moment?

 Number six was empty, or if occupied, its inhabitant was out of sight, perhaps lying in the dirt as she had been only a short while before. Kathy’s mind was like a troublesome gearbox. She’d found first, was trying desperately for second but was hardly accelerating. One memory, though, had suddenly snapped into sharp focus again.  That odd photo shoot out of the hundreds and hundreds she’d done in her relatively brief career—two days in a muddy farmyard in Essex along with four other models.

A popular high street chain adding a new line of equine-themed garments as a new street fashion trend. A range of sexy tight jodhpurs, riding breeches, figure-hugging tops, smart jackets, and stylish low-heeled riding boots. The shoot had a kinky theme which had caused a few puritanical complaints at the time, not that the company had minded. They’d used the farm outbuildings, and a couple of real horses plus two of the models had been required to pose as human horses, pony girls! The other three posing as crop-wielding stable girls in various outfits and then swap roles.  A fact the shoot organiser hadn’t considered important enough to tell them or the agency beforehand.  Kathy had refused point blank to be one of the former. 

There hadn’t been any prewarning, and she wasn’t about to play bondage horsey girl for anyone, the flesh-coloured bodystocking being irrelevant!   After some discussion, the others had agreed on the promise of a bonus. That was back when she could afford to piss off the directors of such shoots, safe in the knowledge that even if one door closed, a ton of others were still awaiting her arrival!  The clothing, though, had been pretty neat, particularly the tight breeches and tops, and Kathy had got a bundle of freebies so long as she agreed to wear them frequently in the next couple of months, so the clothing company hadn’t been too bothered.

Pony girls! She’d heard of that stupid fetish, but as her head was twisted to the right, she remembered one significant difference from that shoot. The two harnessed models had worn clingy but opaque body stocking that effectively hid everything from view. Unlike those, she’d just seen! There was something else as well about them, what?

“Hey! Hey,  leave it off. Let go of…yah!” A brief impression of a white painted wall, stacked tools, gardening ones, a couple of plastic bins, and wheelbarrows on either side of a large arched doorless opening, and then she was looking at stall number seven on the other side. This time a real horse was staring back at her with a curious but detached interest. Grey, she noted, and the next stall along also contained a real horse, black, smaller, with a white mark running up its nose. It, too, looked at her with interest for a moment and then shuffled around in its stall, its braided tail flicking a couple of times upwards as she heard it snort.

Three of the remaining stalls were occupied by human figures, all in that strange statue-like attentive pose by the door to their stalls. Two males and one female with the final stall, the one opposite hers vacant. Hers! Kathy baulked immediately at that thought. Her stall!  But she was being propelled forward again, having been allowed only the briefest glimpse of the other stalls. Her head was released, and a moment later, she was through the brick archway and into the area beyond.

Everything seemed to have happened in the briefest space of time. Indeed, it had and way too fast for Kathy’s jumbled fuzzy brain to comprehend. Thoughts and impressions seemed to have momentarily slowed time as if that were possible, and now normality was being restored. That fog in her brain was receding rapidly, and as it exited stage left, everyday rational reasoning was entering stage right only far too slowly.

“Hey, hey! She screamed. “You can’t do this to me, hey, bitch you can’t…Noooo!” The bitch could and did, thrusting her into a tall narrow iron cage standing in one corner and calmly flicking the bolt home with one finger. Then she crossed her arms and stood there looking through the bars at her victim with that same cruel smile. Kathy instinctively backed away or tried to, but the thing was no bigger than an old-fashioned red telephone box and just as restrictive! Two inches backwards, and her useless arms were tight against the iron bars behind her.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Kathy snarled, knowing it was useless even as the words left her mouth. She’d seen that look in the woman’s eyes, seen that look before, more than once. Hell, what girl hadn’t in her profession! Kathy had done a shoot in Spain not long after her eighteenth birthday with a prominent woman fashion photographer, her female assistant and another older model. Everything had been fine until the last evening when they’d all had a bit too much to drink, and then the other three started making out in public, kissing and groping each other and laughing at her when she backed off from them. They’d laughed, but their eyes had told another story.

Kathy had left them to it and slipped away to her room, but unfortunately, it wasn’t hers alone as she shared it with the older model. The other three crashed in about an hour later, clutching a couple of bottles and drunk as hell. They couldn’t remember what followed when they flew back the following day, or at least that’s what they’d claimed. ‘Anyway, all girls together doing what girls do when the boys aren’t around, and the drink is flowing, no big deal! Remember, sweetie, if you want to get on in this cut-throat business keeping your legs closed won’t cut it!’ That was how the butch forty-something photographer had summarily dismissed the previous night as they’d exited arrivals with their baggage to go their separate ways.

Kathy very much doubted if the bitch, with her ugly tattoos and hair close-cropped to pink-dyed stubble, had ever opened her legs when the boys were around?  She had though for Kathy that night while the other two had grabbed her arms and forced her head down till she’d damn near suffocated on that wet wiry muff.  A decade later, Kathy could still hear the horny bitch screaming, ‘make her do it, make her do it’. They had as well, twisting her arms, ears, hair, breasts and nipples, hurting her until pain and fright had made her plunge her tongue into that stinking twat! Her agent had persuaded her to drop the matter, hadn’t even seemed surprised despite Kathy’s outraged tantrum and told her to forget about it for the sake of her career, and so she had, reluctantly.

Dropped but never forgotten, and now another pair of female hands were reaching out again, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop them other than scream, which she did and loud but with no more effect than in that out-of-season hotel room.  Bar, the short blonde hair, this bitch might have been the twin sister of that lesbian photographer. Hot hands, warm breath, and pairs of greedy wet lips had clamped down on her own that night in the hotel, silencing her protests. Nor had they been the only body parts that had muffled her cries. It had been a long and humiliating night, and all three seemed insatiable.

That horrendous ordeal returned to haunt her briefly but faded at the first touch of those hands upon her beasts, for this was now and no memory. Kathy paused for breath to look the woman in the eyes, and what she saw there made her close her own and resume screaming and shouting abuse at full volume that didn’t diminish as the woman's hands squeezed and fondled her proffered breasts and tweaked her nipples.

“My, my, what a lot of silly noise. Now we can’t have that, can we?”

Kathy abruptly choked off her scream and opened her eyes to see the petite figure of Tiffany standing alongside the big butch blonde that was sexually assaulting her. “What the….what the fucks going on and get that dyke bitch off my fucking tits!” her voice rose to a shriek.

Tiffany covered her ears with her small hands and shook her head. “Such a noisy pony Well, I suppose that's only to be expected. One moment you’re out there,” she waved one hand. “ running free in the wild, flaunting those big udders to all and sundry and sleeping with every Tom, Dick and Harry that crosses your path. Then next, you're occupying a stall in my stable and brightening up  Sammie’s day.  C’est la vie as they say”

“What the fuck! Let me out of here, let me loose right now, you sick little brat and get that fucking dyke off of me,” Kathy screeched, her eyes flashing only half hearing what Tiffany had said.

Tiffany lowered her hands and turned to her companion. “Off of me?” she queried. “Not exactly pristine BBC English, is it Sammie, but then what can you expect from someone like her? But maybe you should leave the filly alone for now, I need to have a private little chat, and you need to sound the bell and stand the herd down before they start cramping up. When I'm finished here with Pepper, I’ll be a long shortly to lend a hand with the chores.”

“Pepper? The big blonde queried with a harsh laugh.

“Tiffany shrugged. “Why not. I’ll explain later, and it’ll do for now. I might change it later, but it’s better than slut or slag, even if those would be more appropriate for this cheating animal. Now chop chop, open up and then run along, we do have a duty of care, and I’m sure they are all dying for their delicious morning mush. You can play with her udders later!” Tiffany finished with a girlish laugh and waved one hand dismissively at the much bigger woman. The blonde chuckled, giving Kathy’s breasts a final hard squeeze that made her squeak—then flipped open the cage door and moved to the archway, briefly pausing to press a bellpush before disappearing into the stall area beyond.

Kathy watched her go open-mouthed and then turned to deliver a verbal explosion of outrage upon the younger girl who’d also disappeared, reappearing almost immediately from an adjacent side room swinging something round and red by a short strap. Kathy recognised it immediately and opened her mouth to shriek. It was not a wise move given what Tiffany held, as Kathy realised a fraction too late. Tiffany was quicker, the girl reaching up, pinching Kathy’s nose closed with one hand, and thrusting that red ball into her open mouth and past her teeth. Then her nostrils were free and filled with the youngster's warm, sweet scent as she stood on tiptoe, leaning into Kathy’s naked breasts as she fastened the strap behind her neck.

“You are a tall one, aren’t you, phew. I’ll have to get a step stool to pat you on the head once you’re hoofed up!” Tiffany dusted her hands together. “That’s better, a little piece and quiet. I could almost hear you from the house, you know.  I'm not too fond of excessive noise, another of the things I inherited from my mother. She was never a disco chick for loud music, nor am I. Anything loud is a no-no. Well, almost,” she giggled and pointed to one wall, adding, “There are times when I find orchestrating certain loud sounds very amusing!”

Kathy’s head turned to follow the small pointing finger. Up to that moment, she’d been grunting and futilely screaming nonstop against the horrid object, filling and stretching her mouth but instantly ceased as her bulging eyes took in several long racks of terrible implements. Whips, canes, paddles and enough riding crops to equip an entire cavalry troop, or so it looked at first glance.

“Hmmph”

“Exactly” Tiffany nodded lightly, patting Kathy’s left breast. “Very Hmmmphy! My mother introduced me to her favourite form of, well, not music exactly, but a very entertaining accompaniment when training animals like you. You might say those are my conductor batons, and “she paused and giggled. “I think we both know who will be playing the part of the orchestra! Anyway, to business, no, no, hush, pony, hush!”

Kathy squinted as a small finger tapped against a portion of the ball between her teeth, and then, with an abrupt exclamation, part amusement, part disgust, Tiffany wiped it on her captives hair, and Kathy knew why. She was drooling, fucking drooling; she could feel it pooling on her right breast. Nor could she expel the horrible thing filling her mouth, or despite her best efforts, could she make any coherent sound.

“It’s no use being silly like that, Pepper girl”, Tiffany cautioned, wagging the same finger at her. “All I can hear is oomff, ummff, mumfff, so you’re only wasting energy trying to do even that. Personally speaking from experience, I’d advise saving your strength at this point” she gave a half smile. “Not that you silly animals ever do that initially, but you will learn. Time, patience and my many conductor's batons will ensure that,” she giggled, nodding towards the rack. “Mummy taught me that lesson before I got my first pony. Time, patience and the whip and a lot of each, especially that last one!” Tiffany laughed. “Her very words”

The girl pointed through the doorway. “Jumbo will tell you that, or would if I let him. I initially named him Conan, after the film with big Arnie.  Conan the Barbarian. One evening, I watched it on the telly while mummy was busy here. I was a bit naughty because I wasn’t supposed to watch anything she considered violent. Kind of silly when you think about it,” Tiffany giggled, nodding toward that terrible rack. “I was reading Lord of the Rings at the time, so I was into fantasy-type stuff, still am. I’d love to go to one of those big cosplay events they have in the US,  although I’m not sure who I’d go as?” she frowned, absently fingering Kathy's left nipple. “Anyway, mummy didn’t think the name suited the great lumbering creature, so we decided on Jumbo instead!”

“Oommphhf”, Kathy strained her arms against their tight binding, her eyes bulging from the effort while her gaze switched back and forth from the sweetly smiling young girl to that rack of torture tools. She couldn’t be serious?

Tiffany took a step backwards and folded her arms across her chest. Kathy noted for the first time that the girl was dressed as though she were about to go for a ride: low-heeled scuffed boots, tight brown breeches and a short-sleeved clingy matching top. The girl's red hair caught in a bushy ponytail that was clearly more for convenience and not a hint of make-up on her pretty fresh face.

Kathy wasn’t stupid, never had been and almost certainly could have gone to university had she not opted out of the education system early to follow another career. Indeed, going as a mature student had been something she’d considered recently as she could get a loan for that, couldn’t she? Maybe go into marketing or advertising, and come up with something more sensible than half the crap she’d posed for in the past!

Kathy paused her futile efforts to speak and free herself as her brain clicked into gear while Tiffany stood silently before her, head slightly to one side as though considering something. The girl’s appearance, the stinking stable, everything she’d seen, what they had done to her, and what they’d said.  She must have been drugged; that’s why she felt so bad. Those funny fuzzy spells earlier, or was it the day before or what?  Those others, the harnessed people through that arch and their ridged postures. They were real, weren’t they not part of some crazy dream? As real as that fucking ball filling her mouth and those awful things over there that Tiffany had pointed out so damn nonchalantly. They were like her, weren’t they those other people? They were not here willingly, were they?

“Now, to business. Let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we” Tiffany mused, half looking at Kathy and half down at her hands as she appeared to be ticking things off on her fingers. I wouldn’t normally do this with a new animal, but I do make exceptions for certain, mmmm, shall we say, special arrivals.  Mummy would undoubtedly disapprove of me talking thus to a dumb creature like you, but sadly, she’s not here, is she? Then again, if she were, you wouldn’t be here. So, I’d listen carefully if I were you, pony. I expect this is the last time I will ever talk to you like this,” Tiffany paused and smiled. “human to human, so to speak, although you barely qualify for that any longer. Now hush that silliness, or I will get angry!”

Kathy had snorted loudly, suddenly realising that she still could still make a noise through another opening but was immediately forestalled as the girl walked forward and pinched her nostrils closed again and held them for a few seconds before releasing them and admonishing her with a firm tap from one small finger on the tip of her nose. “I wonder if it will take you as long as it took my big beautiful Jumbo to realise that making me angry is not a good idea! Silly boy, but I was much younger and even smaller back then, so naturally, the big animal didn’t take me very seriously at first” Tiffany paused and reached through the bars and gave Kathy’s right nipple a tweak. Not hard, but it shocked her enough to gasp against her gag.

“Yes, a very silly creature indeed, but it learned. In the end, they all learn something else mummy used to say.  Of course, he’s much older, far wiser these days, and very docile. No, he didn’t take me seriously back then, but those things hanging on the wall aren’t ornaments, as he found out soon enough!”

Kathy panicked as the girl released her nipple and pinched her nose closed again for a few seconds. She couldn’t breathe or do a thing, not a damn thing. That brat in front of her could raise her hand, nip her nose, and she’d be dead in what, three minutes, two, maybe less the way her pulse was racing and then being tapped on the nose like a disobedient puppy! Even as she thought that she squealed into her gag as the same two fingers used their nails to nip her left nipple this time. Hell, that hurt! She’d noted that the girl didn’t sport long false ones as so many her age did, yet they were long enough to damn well hurt when the little bitch did that!

“This will, perforce, be a one-sided conversation”, Tiffany continued and then giggled. “Well, actually, entirely one-sided since you can’t talk. You might as well get used to that right now, for that was always mother's first rule for the stable. Ponies don’t talk, not ever. That was also the first thing she impressed upon me when she brought me over and introduced me to her animals once she felt I was old enough to appreciate them.”

 “Ummphhhh!”

“Yes,” Tiffany mused, her eyes distant, absently reaching out again and caressing the nearest naked breast for a moment as though stroking a pet dog. “I remember one silly pony, a young colt, a big one, and the newest resident. He did try to say something to me while they were feeding it. Foolish animal for mummy was not amused and even let me help her” Tiffany smiled at the memory, then tweaked Kathy’s nipple again. “Happy days, eh, Pepper? Hey, you’ll probably see a lot of Jumbo; he’s in number eleven, almost opposite you. Not the fresh young colt he once was, but I’ve always been fond of him because he was the first I tamed all by myself. He squealed so delightfully for me, and of course, he wouldn’t dream of being naughty these days, would he?”

Tiffany gave the nipple another tweak and laughed at the look on Kathy’s face. “Well, perhaps he does dream, for that’s about the only thing I don’t control in this building. When and what you eat, when you sleep, wake, every activity, every minute of every day and night, I am in charge just as my mother was before me. Even your bowel movements will be mine to control, not yours. As for this pretty hide,” Tiffany smirked, letting go of the nipple, running her palm over Kathy's smooth leather-clad belly and down one thigh, and then pointing to the rack of whips and other horrible tools.

“Mummy always loved a new arrival, a fresh canvas, so much pristine hide to leave her mark upon”, Tiffany giggled. “Unlike poor old Jumbo, I’m responsible for filling in most of that canvas and over-painting it many, many times! No doubt I shall…” the small girl suddenly broke off with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Big Jumbo! I hadn’t even thought about that. Two birds with one stone!” Tiffany mused, ignoring the frantic muted noises emanating from Kathy’s gagged mouth and her agitated movements that became even more desperate as Tiffany began to run both her palms over Kathy’s flat belly and then down her hips.

“Not bad, not bad at all”, Tiffany muttered, stepping back. “Maybe a whole flock of birds with one stone. I think Pepper, you’re going to be even more fun than I imagined, not to mention being useful as well,” she nodded. “Mummy always wanted to do that but never did, and it could make daddy very happy, wouldn’t it? Mummy never looked beyond here, of course, how she was thinking. Turn it around a little, though, and it would stop all that silly sighing from daddy, wouldn’t it? ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever be a grandaddy’, she mimicked in a silly voice. “Well, no way I’m getting a fat belly at my age just to keep him happy, but I don’t suppose he’d be all that fussy if…well, if you hadn’t fucked up big time, you’d almost be family, eh, girl?

Fat belly? Kathy’s eyes widened in horror at the implication as Tiffany stepped forward, and once more, the young girl's hands were roaming over her midriff and hips.

“Of course, he might not want to, but then he always….”Tiffany broke off again, and the hands paused and then resumed. “Why not the alternative” she giggled and tapped Kathy on the nose. “I’d have to think about it some because it would be an ultra-rare treat for him. Unique, in fact. An interesting experiment to see if poor old Jumbo’t trunk is even capable after all this time”.

“All fed bar this one?” The butch blonde was back carrying a galvanised bucket in one hand and a large soup ladle in the other which she used to point at Kathy.

“Mmmm, no, not yet. Her stomach might not be settled enough, and the fat cow could probably do with shedding a few pounds. Let's leave Pepper till tonight. She’ll be ravenous by then, I expect.”

The blonde laughed and hefted the bucket. “Yeah, very hungry; she might even eat her first meal here without needing the usual encouragement!”

Tiffany smiled and tapped Kathy on the nose again. “Well, that’s my department for the immediate future: any infractions, tell me. I’ll supply the corrective encouragement for Pepper here. You’ll have to be patient, Sammie, for now. She’s not going anywhere, is she?”

The blonde laughed, put her ladle into the bucket, and then placed it on the floor before joining Tiffany.  Her hand instinctively reached out, squeezing her other breast, making Kathy squeak and struggle even more. Her eyes began to flow with tears as the bizarre reality of her situation started to overcome her.

“Nice filly”, Sammie observed. “Your Dad’s getting better at picking them. Why Pepper?”

Tiffany shrugged. “Why not, and he didn’t pick her, especially for the stable, remember? If she hadn’t been such a randy slut, then things might have been very different” the girl gave a sort of shudder. “Who knows, might even have ended up here in an entirely different capacity!”

Sammie gave a short laugh. “Yeah, mistress of all she surveyed over at the house. I wonder how he intended to explain all this to her in that case?”

 “I don’t think he would have. I doubt he’d have bothered even bringing the tart up here. He never did with the others, did he? Anyway,  I gather she wasn’t interested in leaving London from what he told me.”

“Yeah, no doubt reluctant to leave behind all those other cocks she was so fond of accommodating!” The blonde sneered, releasing Kathy's breast, and with practised ease, inserted a finger straight up into her vagina, making her squeak, jump and wriggle in humiliated rage. “Park a bus up here, I expect!”

“Now you stop that right now, Sammie, " Tiffany ordered, slapping the woman's arm even though the woman was considerably bigger and probably nearly three times her age. “You mauled her enough yesterday when we brought her in. You'll get your chance later, but this animal is mine for now!”

Kathy shuddered as she felt the finger give an exploratory wiggle, and then it withdrew. She watched wide-eyed as Sammie waved the digit in front of her eyes for a second before pursing her lips and placing it between them, making a horrible sucking noise, then grinned at her as she removed it and wiped it on Kathy's hair. “Essence of new ponygirl! Why Pepper, though?” she asked again.

Tiffany shrugged. “I kinda wanted something mummy might have picked for her. You know how Breakfast at Tiffany’s was her favourite movie?”

Sammie rolled her eyes. “As if I’d forgotten? You're as bad as Moira, what with piping that theme tune, Moon River, around the stable when some poor pony is going to get one hell of a beating!

“I find it soothing!”

Sammie smirked. “Yeah. Well, not very soothing for the ponies until they know which one you’re playing it for, but that doesn’t answer my question, girlie!”

“I was trying to think of a name somehow connected. Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard starred so..”

“Peppard to Pepper, oh yes, highly imaginative, I don’t think!”

Tiffany giggled. “Be nice! It’ll do for now, and I like to give them a name straight off. Mummy always did that. She used to say that you can’t take the human out of the animal, but you can put the animal into the human, which starts with a new name.  Okay, we can leave her here for now. Let's get all the morning chores out of the way, and then we’ll finish tacking her up and introduce her to a few other things,” Tiffany laughed, nodding to the nearby rack.

“You first, of course, M’lady”, Sammie said, eyeing the various whips and canes.

“Of course, I go first. First, second third, until I say otherwise!  Come on and stop looking so sulky about it!” she took the bigger woman’s arm and steered towards the arch. “Bye the way, you don’t happen to know where the key to Jumbo’s cock cage is by any chance?”

We're after that same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the Bend

My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me

“I must get my ears checked, for I seem to have missed the stand-downtown bell this morning”, Tiffanny put a hand to her ear cocking her head on one side “or maybe not”, she added as the bell rang for the fourth time. “I  spy with my little eye something else that perhaps needs to see a vet about its hearing, or is it just being lazy”, that sweet smile that wasn’t disappeared “or worse, deliberately disobedient?” She snapped her fingers and tapped the top of the stall door.

 The morning routine, Kathy thought, belatedly resuming her position right in front of the hated brat as the echos of that final shrill ringing died away.  The same every damn morning, and it never varied, never changed bar the first face you saw or sensed, for lowering your eyes from that point halfway up the roof on the far side wasn’t recommended. That would be considered a sign of disrespect or, worse, disobedience, which wasn’t tolerated, not in Miss Fucking bratty sadistic Tiffany’s private version of hell!

“Head up, udders out, stand for me till I say otherwise”, Tiffany snarled and then walked away, not even bothering to look back to see if her order was being obeyed. Why should she when no occupant of her stable, even the newest animal, would dare risk her wrath?

Kathy had lost all track of time. She might have been confined in said hell for weeks, months, or more. Day and night, yes, but longer, she had no idea, not since Miss fucking dyke Sammie had caught her trying to scratch the bricks at the rear of her stall with one of her harness buckles to add another day to a crude calendar. How she’d known Kathy didn’t know, but she’d suddenly appeared in a furious mood, dragged her down to that end room, and thrust her into the narrow iron cage to await the teenage brat and another session on that loathsome flogging bench or similar!

She did not know how long she’d have to wait for even that fourth bell varied daily but standing there; she’d had plenty of time to mull over how her life had so abruptly and unexpectedly changed. Kathy guessed the big blonde knew about her calendar because cameras were situated all around the stable. There was no such thing as privacy. You were exposed body and soul twenty-four-seven, and Kathy still hadn’t gotten used to the exposed body bit, nor did she intend to, for there had to be a way to escape this crazy, bizarre, surreal situation. There just had to be! How could a hell hole like this even exist today in a civilised, developed country?

Kathy made that resolution at least a dozen times daily but had to admit that her early optimism was waning somewhat. On the one hand, it was unbelievable that the little red-headed bastard of a bitch could do this to her, to keep her captive like this, like an animal! Then, on the other hand, all she had to do was lower her head, if she dared, and look diagonally across at the hulking occupant in number eleven. One such glance could put an immediate and colossal damper on her determined ambition to escape.

Jumbo was a big boy, no a big man, tall and bulky, built like a rugby prop forward, and how long had the little bitch kept him here? A helpless captive in her private petting zoo for her perverted amusement, and he wasn’t even the oldest or longest occupant of the stable, or so she’d learned via snippets of conversation.  Tiffany’s mother had been dead for nearly a decade, and that poor guy had newly arrived when the evil brat was first introduced to this hell hole she so delighted in.  How old was the girl when she first applied a bamboo cane to Jumbo’s sizeable bottom? 

Kathy had found herself frequently staring across the stable. How often had the poor man suffered since that first painful encounter, and not just at the end of a slender wooden cane? Despite his size, he seemed so apathetic and spiritless. He followed obediently on the end of a leather rein as his petite young tormentor led him about like a grotesque version of beauty and the beast—a hulking human puppy dog who’d been house-trained so effectively. Except no rolled-up newspaper had inflicted the scars that covered his body!

Kathy shifted her weight from one foot to the other or one hoof to the other, as they’d no doubt put it. Her insane jailers who’d incarcerated her in this preposterous ultra-fetish asylum they’d created solely to serve their perverted interests. A part of Kathy’s brain almost refused to accept that it was real and actually happening to her, that such a bizarre place could even exist. Unfortunately, it did and that portion of her mind that questioned it was shrinking daily.

Still, no one came to view her, to gloat at their captive human animal. Kathy could hear sounds from elsewhere in the stable, the usual restless rustling as her fellow prisoners shuffled about in their small enclosures or the occasional neigh or whinny from the two real animals. Nothing from the two devils that ran the fucking place, so all she could do was stand there statue like gazing upwards and across until she was released. To do otherwise would have been very foolish.

Kathy’s mind drifted back to that first incredible morning as she waited in that iron cage, her mind endeavouring to process what was going on and completely failing as her rage built up minute by minute. If she’d been a steam boiler, no doubt she’d have triggered the pressure release valve or blown up in an impressive explosion of noise and scalding steam. However, she wasn’t; there was no release, not even vocally. Oh, if only she didn’t have that horrible thing in her mouth. All she could do was throw herself against the cage's unyielding bars, which quickly proved more painful than satisfying.

It had seemed an age till Tiffany returned; meanwhile, Kathy had subsided into a sort of stupor, not asleep nor entirely conscious, her mind still not yet the active alert organ it had been twenty-four hours earlier. The giggle broke her dormant state both of body and mind as her eyes opened, and seeing the girl there looking at her, she instinctively threw herself forward into the bars that formed the iron door. Neither that nor her muted screams of rage and protest had the slightest effect on her predicament.

“Careful”, Tiffany cautioned with another giggle. “You’ll hurt yourself if you go on like that, silly animal” She giggled again as Kathy exploded in another futile outburst of energy and stifled noise. “No, no, now stop that!” the girl's hand reached through the bars and gently stroked Kathy’s left breast. “Now be calm; there is nothing you can do to change the situation, nothing. Nor will anyone come and look for you, so listen carefully; I shall only speak to you like this once. After this, my communication with you will be briefer, virtually non-existent in conventional terms!”

She smiled, withdrawing her hand, and stood there with her arms folded, looking thoughtfully at her prisoner. A trim little figure all in brown and beige. High brown riding boots, beige leggings and sweater.  Kathy glared back at the smaller, younger girl who radiated supreme confidence. She did not display the slightest tinge of remorse or sympathy at the outrageous way she’d treated her guest, her stepmother-to-be. A dark thought flashed into Kathy’s mind as she looked at the smiling redhead through the bars. Was this how she’d intended to treat her prospective stepmother all along?

A thought immediately confirmed. “Did you honestly think I’d accept a whore like you in mummy’s place? Daddy might have shared your bed a few times, but once I’d made a few enquiries, there was no way I’d allow the likes of you to share his! I’m not a prude, and he’s a man like any other with certain appetites, after all, but one does have limits. Sticking his cock in you is one thing, but putting a ring on your finger is quite another! There is nothing wrong with daddy’s helicopter, but why should I have made life easy for you?“ Tiffany paused and giggled. “Start as I mean to go on, Pepper, and yes, I can get away with it!” Tiffany smiled. “If that’s what you’re wasting energy trying to tell me. Besides, making your trip here a bit awkward worked well for me!”

Kathy’s eyes flared with hatred for the composed little brat, for that’s precisely what she’d been endeavouring to convey in a frenzy of muted words and an ever-extending skein of drool.

“Let's see now”, Tiffany began ticking things off on her fingers. “Paper trail at the departure airport, at the arrival car hire firm and you stopped, what? Three or four times for directions and even got a map from Jimmy Donaldson; how kind of him. Lots of people will remember you. I expect Sammie and Bob will have left that map somewhere prominent and dry in your hire car, tucked in the sun blind, perhaps. So sad but not unusual. Tourists are always taking that tight bend at the bottom of Black Tarn hill way too fast and end up in the burn, although it's more of a river there when it's in spate as it is now. Six cars and a motorbike have ended up in the water in the last ten years, with three fatalities. It’s not that deep even at this time of the year, but ice cold and extremely fast flowing. I suppose it's natural that people insist on trying to get out rather than sitting chest-deep waiting for help. Sheer panic, I expect”. 

“Mmmmffff!”

Some, like the Aussie tourist couple, made it to the bank but not that salesman the year before. They found his body three miles downstream, heart attack, but you’ll be like....” Tiffany paused and chuckled. “Well, like the other one. The one they never found. Missing presumed dead,” she chuckled and jerked a finger back towards the arched doorway. “Perhaps if they’d looked upstream and say here instead, but why should they have done that? No doubt they will look and look, and local people will help. Maybe we’ll help again from here. We did last time, at least for the first few days, before they scaled things back and moved further down. Poor Mrs McCreadie was almost run off her feet making tea and snacks for everyone” Tiffany smiled. “I felt so guilty, and of course, daddy unsurprisingly did his nut when he found out about it. He went ber-ser and capital K! Poor Sammie nearly got the boot for setting it up for me despite them being friends for yonks. Anyway, a storm in a teacup by then. When he came up, the search had long since moved down to the coast, and letting Dobby out of his stall would have been pretty stupid.

“Mmmmffff!”

“He’s just so cute. Hardly any bigger than me and yet riding that huge great motorbike. I might even have done him a favour by permanently getting him off that dangerous thing. He stopped to try and buy some petrol because he was running empty and hadn’t realised just how few facilities there are around here. I mean, like zilch, so far as filling stations go or anything, come to that!  Oh, but he was so cute, and I just had to have him. I was into Harry Potter then, well still am, and with his big silly ears and the expression on his face, I immediately thought Dobby!”.

“Mmmmffff!”

“Yes, Mmmff indeed” Tiffany nodded absently, stroking Kathy's breast again. “I expect the police will be here sometime later today. Oh, I shall be so upset. Distraught even. I can do a very good distraught, not too over the top if you know what I mean.” the girl paused for a moment contemplating. “Or should that be…oh, never mind!  Anyway, all my fault. I should have been more accommodating; perhaps we wouldn’t have fallen out so quickly, and you wouldn’t have driven off into the night in such a rage. I did shout after you to be careful on that road, but you probably didn’t hear me. I expect it will be Sergeant McDonald, such a dear. I’ve known him since I was a toddler, you know. A real cuddly sweetheart is Uncle McDonald. Poor lamb, he does so hate being the bearer of tragic news. He was the one who had to tell Daddy when mummy crashed back when he was just the local constable. Still, I expect a tot or two from Mrs McCreadie will help.”

Tiffany seemed to realise that she was fondling Kathy’s breast again and withdrew her hand with a jerk. “Whoa, getting ahead of myself, almost as bad as Sammie. I’m surprised these big whores udders are not black and blue the way she was helping herself to a few handfuls last night. Now I just need to..”

What Tiffany needed to do remained unknown as the girl’s phone rang at that point. “Here already? That was quick. Yes. Oh, goody, I was pretty sure it would be him. Do the usual for them, and I’ll be right over. Yep, two minutes!” Tiffany killed the call and smiled at Kathy. “Wowzer, quicker than I thought. Some early bird must have had their wits about them. Anyway, all the better for me and” she giggled “, and all the worse for you. In about ten minutes, a certain waning model and wannabe celebrity will have faded entirely and permanently from the public's fickle memory, and I doubt anyone will give a damn. It’ll be, remember what’s her name? Think upon that whore!”

Tiffany slapped the breast she’d been casually fondling hard and turned to leave but, after a single pace, stopped abruptly, whirled around and pointed. “Feel free to look around while you're waiting, Pepper. Those items dangling from their hooks will soon feature rather prominently in your future life. Take a decko at the specialist furniture while you’re at it with all the straps and fittings. That one over there is very popular,” the girl pointed to something that looked like a carpenter's saw horse and chuckled. It was glossy black with a very narrow padded leather top, and sticking up were two big sex toys whose function was immediately apparent. Tiffany giggled delightedly at the look on Kathy’s face. “Popular I should explain in that it was one of mummy’s favourite pieces and very adaptable.  Big Jumbo almost lived on it at one point!” Tiffany smiled. “Anyway, as I said, this will be our last little chat, bar perhaps a situational update when I return. From now on, those nasty toys over there will do most of my talking. Bye for now, and welcome to my mother’s stable. I’m so glad you could come, especially now I’ve plans for you beyond the immediate!”

“I’ve plans for you?” Those four words had stuck in Kathy’s head as effectively as the harness and other horrible things that bound her body and denied freedom and what did ‘beyond the immediate mean. Complete rational thought and mental clarity had returned in the interval between Tiffany's departure and returning about an hour and a half later after dealing with uniformed officialdom. Growing terror was how she’d spent that period, reinforced by a brief visit from the big blonde. 

The older woman strode briskly through the arched doorway and grabbed a long thick cane from that rack of horror that seemed to have a magnetic attraction for Kathy’s eyes. The woman had ignored her until she was about to leave. She’d paused, swung around and came over to the cage flexing the cane between her hands, smiling wickedly as Kathy instinctively endeavoured to push herself back through both iron bars and the brick wall behind.

“No way out that way, pony”, the woman chuckled and, after a quick look, rearwards over her shoulder, reached through the bars to grope Kathy’s left breast again. “No escape from Miss Tiffany’s stable, ever!” Then the thick cane in her other hand was thrust through, and the tip tapped upon her right breast. “A fine pair of udders and virgin fresh. Not a mark on them,” the woman smirked. “But not for long! Wait till your little owner gets to work on them. Bad move, girl, flashing them at her daddy the way you did and then betraying him!”.

Kathy gasped into her bit as the woman bobbed down and thrust two fingers into her vagina, penetrating deep and then wriggling them as she squirmed and protested mutely. “Sssstttpit!”

The blonde laughed and stood up, licking her fingers slowly, lasciviously, and then used her cane to tap upon the same intimate spot she’d just violated. “Udders make a fine target, but I find a few good uppercuts in this region very effective for bringing ponies swiftly to heel, be they colt or filly, mare or stallion. They all dance the same for me when the cane bites!”

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style some day

 Kathy maintained her rigid pose, shivering slightly but from the chilly morning air rather than fear, although fear was an ever-present factor in her life. What else when you were a helpless captive in the hands of two sadistic psychopaths who didn’t even consider you human and regularly applied pain to your body with not the slightest trace of human emotion? No, correction. They did show emotion, the bastards, but not the sort that was welcome to her or any other unfortunate wretches incarcerated in this private version of hell.

A movement to her front, finally! Kathy’s head didn’t move, but her eyes briefly dropped just for a second before resuming that intent inspection of the opposite upper reaches of the ceiling. Tiffany, Miss Tiffany, as the house servants respectfully called her or Tiffy as the big blonde dyke often did. The brat inspected her livestock every morning, the same damn routine each day or sometimes her partner in crime until that final bell call freed them. This morning, Kathy had been fractionally late again and thus condemned to stand as she was till ordered to stand down by one of the bastards unless they forgot her, of course! By the sound of it, they’d started the morning mucking out routine, so would she have to stand thus until they reached her stall?

Morning inspection! That alone was galling, an additional humiliation among many and no doubt deliberately intended to add to the stable occupant’s degradation and misery. Start daily by ramming home that they were mere animals, possessions, exotic pets to Tiffany. Her hapless subjects ruled and used by an ultra-cruel monarch in any way she chose and dependent on her goodwill even to exist. Kathy hadn’t fully appreciated that last thought until one evening in the second week after receiving a savage beating at the brat’s hands.

She’d been rolling around in her stall in a futile attempt to free her hands, desperate to massage and soothe her tortured bottom. She’d broken off exhausted and sobbing then the full realisation had hit home for the first time. The brat could have whipped her to death, couldn’t she? And no one would have known, would they? She couldn’t do a single thing for herself; could she except breathe, and even a simple pinch to her nose could stop that if that horrible ball was filling her mouth, not that the bit between her teeth was much better!

Kathy dropped her eyes instinctively as they registered a movement but only for a fleeting instinct. Tiffany was walking up the lines of stalls opposite, looking at them and their captive occupants. The little bitch on yet another morning inspection. Christ, it was so fucking unbelievable, wasn’t it! Yet it was painfully real, and no one batted an eyelid about it, did they? 

That her captive presence in a stall along with all the others was an everyday norm was confirmed later on that first day when she’d been returned to her stall by the blonde dyke after the brat had so cruelly and so calmly flogged her that first time. She’d been left tethered by a couple of chains affixed to her harness near the entrance to her stall and unable to do anything other than hop from one foot to the other, silently sobbing. Helpless to touch or do anything other than endure the fiery pain in her poor, tortured bottom and thighs and cruelly used breasts. 

Bob had appeared a couple of times carrying a huge toolbox and, apart from a casual glance, ignored her and noisily busied himself doing something out of sight at the far end. Kathy had seen him several times since, and he had not shown the slightest interest or curiosity in her wretched plight. His wife, Mrs McCreadie, was also an occasional visitor along with her large blue plastic bucket full of the foul yuk the stables occupants were expected to eat. The woman had even paused by her stall and spoken to her once.

“Settling in, are we, lassie” the woman had smiled as though talking to a new employee. “There’s good. Best not to try Miss Tiffany’s temper too much. Sharp, she can be like her mother often was. Foolish, you were flashing all you got at her poor dada and then doing the dirty on him!”

The woman had shaken her head sadly and headed off with her horrible bucket muttering something to herself as she went. Kathy had stamped her feet in frustration. She hadn’t; she hadn’t, had she? She’d not flashed anything other than a smile. Dada had made all the running during their first few encounters, not her! The fact that she didn’t quite know just how rich dada was at the time was irrelevant, of course!

Occasionally it was Mrs McCreadie who brought in their feed. More often, one of her two persecutors and once had been the old guy from the gatehouse who’d left the bucket ready to be dished out later.  Tiffany and Sammie had been busy down the far end in the room that housed the cages and those other pieces of horrible furniture with which she was becoming far too well acquainted. A young male voice was screaming and shouting in agony, and Kathy had occupied a stall long enough to know the reason why. The old guy had shuffled in with the bucket, placed it carefully down by the big entrance doors, shouted something, and turned to leave but stopped as a particularly loud scream sounded. He’d paused, shrugged, bent down, picked up his bucket, and shuffled down towards the noise, reappearing a moment later to depart quietly, and not once had he bothered to glance at her nor any of the stable's other occupants!

“Pepper, stand down!”

Thank heavens for that! Kathy relaxed and shook her body. Tiffany was walking back towards the far end of the stable, not even sparing her a glance. Kathy was now free or rather released to do whatever she wanted within the confines of her stall. Twenty-four hours before that fucking bell rang again, but she’d better not be late tomorrow. Had she got away with it today, or would they be back for her later? Kathy cringed inwardly at that awful thought.  

Bar feeding, grooming, and God forbid, another training session with Miss Tiffany; Kathy was now free, totally free, at least that was what that big blonde dyke Sammie had laughing told her when she was grooming her one morning. Grooming, they called it? Washing and groping more like and Sammie didn’t give a damn where her inquisitive fingers ended up did, she! Every bloody session, that bitch had to probe her most intimate parts with one or more soapy fingers.

Free, yeah, free! Big joke. ‘Free for the day now, pony’, that’s what the big bitch had laughed as she closed the stall door after that first horrible grooming session. Kathy had still been traumatised, but the words had stuck. ‘Must be nice, eh? No worries about rent or mortgages, no worries about work or money. Hell, Pepper, you don’t even have to think about what to wear or have for your supper, do you, girl!’

Kathy glowered and unthinkingly stamped her foot at that memory. To make it worse, the bitch had reappeared a moment later and laughed, ‘Don’t even have to worry about whose dick your big whore hole’s going to entertain tonight either, eh? Maybe Miss Tiffany will take pity on you and let me tickle your hot clitty’ the blonde head had disappeared, but her voice had floated back ‘once a year, maybe!’ she’d added with a cruel chuckle.

Fucking bitch! The fact that there was an element of truth in her hateful words wasn’t lost on Kathy, for she’d always been a sensual hedonistic girl, and sex had played a part in her life for a long time. A  more significant factor than she’d appreciated until now. She’d taken such pleasure for granted as far back as her time in the care home when she’d lost her virginity to one of those who were supposed to be caring for her. She hadn’t been the only one to suffer at that bastard's hands, but unlike the others she’d enjoyed the experience after the initial shock of penetration.

Perhaps that did make her a whore. After all, she’d shared that fuckers bed willingly on numerous other occasions and suspected it was her growing appetite and demands that had frightened the guy into resigning. But no, that didn’t make her a whore did it? Not once had she ever spread her legs for money. It was true that apart from that first occasion, she’d invariably been the prime initiator. Even thinking back to that first occasion, maybe she’d been a shade too forward and precocious, plus she hadn’t been ignorant of the randy bastard's reputation, had she? Jesus fucking Christ, did that make her equally perverted, given all that was happening? No, Kathy decided very firmly; it did not. She’d had that same itch regularly for over a dozen years, but now she couldn’t scratch it, which was so damn frustrating. If only, but no. Kathy glanced at the nearest wall and squirmed, another inch on the thing in her twat, and maybe she could have humped the damn brickwork, but it wasn’t, and she couldn’t, could she. Why couldn’t the big one stuffed up her arse be in front!

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

“Sorry to keep you waiting, pony” Tiffany smiled and shrugged. “I had to make an official statement, and then we had a bit of a general social chat. Of course, by that time, they needed a second cuppa, and well, I expect you know or can imagine how these things go. Here’s me itching to get back in here and yet having to look all sad and contrite and go through the motions, and I was never a good actress. Now old Mrs McCreadie, she’s missed her calling what with wringing her hands and wailing ‘that poor bairn, that wee English lassie’. Anyway, it seems your hire car has been found, your empty hire car, so now the search is on for said wee lassie somewhere downstream. I did point out that given your age and build, you’re neither a young bairn nor on the wee side, eh Pepper? That gave them a laugh and lightened the sombre mood a tad! Sorry to have kept you waiting, but I’m back now!”

Kathy had stared at the sweetly smiling young girl, hardly feeling the possessive squeeze to her right breast as the girl emphasised the word now. Her mind was reeling as it slowly processed what Tiffany was saying, and the fact that her brain didn’t want to play ball wasn’t helping. I mean, why should it have, given the crazy situation? What sane mind would believe what was happening to her? An hour later, brain, body and bottom were entirely in tune with the situation and seething in humiliated, helpless rage and agony as Miss Tiffany delivered her first little ‘taster,’ as she put it, of what stable life would be like for her latest acquisition.

That had been her first experience of how sadistic the brat could be. As the newest occupant of the stable, such painful and humiliating sessions had become a daily, sometimes twice daily, occurrence. Nor was it just Tiffany, either. ‘Miss Tiffany’s lunching in town today with some of her friends, pony, so I’m on breaking and training duty!’ That’s what the fucking blonde dyke called it. Breaking and training as Kathy squealed and screamed in agony under cane or lash. Being cruel to be kind was another misnomer they frequently used. Kind!

It was unbelievable what they were doing to her and how they were doing it. How could otherwise ordinary people behave like that? Then again, Kathy had a friend, not so much a friend, more a colleague. Louisa was a gorgeous, tall, ebony-skinned girl five years older than her from the same agency with whom she’d done a few jobs earlier in her career. Kathy had shared the occasional coffee with Lou after she’d left the business, having hit that same low point in her modelling career that Kathy was experiencing. Lou had become a professional dominant catering for a limited clientele of financially well-endowed city and show biz perverts.

“None of them particularly well-endowed elsewhere”, Lou had confessed, making them giggle over their cappuccinos. Kathy had expressed her reservations knowing that prostitution was an established extra in her business, although disguised as ‘high-end escorting’. “Still means opening your legs”, Lou had sneered contemptuously and added. “There’s a saying in my business that pro-domming isn’t prostitution. Believe me, it is! The pathetic bastards still expect a helping hand to squirt at the end of a session!”

Lou had grinned wickedly at that point and leaned across the table, beckoning to Kathy with her forefinger to come closer.  “Some of them I give a choice towards the end, no squirt and money back if they let me play a bit longer but on my terms for an hour or so, no safe words!” She’d giggled and winked conspiratorially. “Some of them are silly enough to agree to indulge me. Would you believe I had a senior policeman screaming and begging me to stop just a few days ago?

Kathy had blinked in surprise and asked, “did you?”

“Did what, stop? No, of course not, darling! Why should I when I’m having such fun?  Silly bastard left my place waddling like a bow-legged duck threatening me with lord knows what for criminal assault! Silly Billy. Most of them do that after one of my indulgent ‘extra’ sessions, and half of them are so traumatised and angry and in such a hurry to get their pants on and depart that they forget to ask for their money back”, she’d laughed. “A win-win situation for me, and then most of the stupid wimps can’t wait for another session once they’ve recovered a bit, of course!”

“Aren’t you frightened of being arrested or something?” Kathy had asked her, which had made Lou hiccup and giggle as she finished her coffee, glanced at her expensive Cartier watch, gathered up coat and bag, then made to depart but paused and grinned.

“Nope, too many friends in high places these days.” She’d laughed. “Very high, darling. Very high! This bloody country is governed by fucking perverts! Throw in the fact that money talks; the more money, the louder the voice. Anyway, forget that; it’s the special commissions I do, the real mega high-earning tricks that would get me locked up and the key thrown away big time!” she winked. “Flew back from the Middle East only last week after an enjoyable week or so providing a little voyeuristic entertainment, among other things. No safe words there either, and no…well, better not to know, sweetie!” Lou had tapped one side of her nose, given a very strange wink and with a wicked laugh, waved a hand and disappeared out of the door joining the throng of Oxford Street shoppers and tourists.

That conversation had been in Kathy’s mind quite frequently of late, likewise that strange wink and the look on Lou's face. It had puzzled her at the time, but now she saw that self-same or similar expression every day on her tormentor's faces. Mega high earnings? Was this crazy stuff what Lou had been hinting at? Kathy’s heart had sunk at that thought. What if this fucking horror show in an isolated part of the Scottish Highlands wasn’t a one-off!

When she returned from lying her pretty redhead off to the local law, Tiffany's apology hadn’t sounded the least apologetic—very much the opposite. The words might have been correct, but her gleeful tone was both smug and triumphant. The young huntress had set out to catch her prey, succeeded and now intended to mount its head on her trophy wall.  Given what they did to her next, a quick, single stroke of the executioner’s axe to her neck might have been far more preferable to the humiliation and pain she was to suffer. Worse, there was to be no blessed instant release into permanent uncaring oblivion for her!

A couple of times, Kathy had hovered on the verge of falling into temporary insensibility, but the sadistic little brat was far too skilled and too experienced to allow her that outlet as she writhed and screamed on the ‘discipline bench’ as they termed it. Nor had pain alone taken her down that path, but the accompanying shock and humiliation had played nearly equal parts over two long unbelievable hours of torment.

Two hours, hell, it had felt like an entire lifetime to Kathy as her initial angry snarls of defiance had quickly changed to screams, shouts and pathetic pleas for mercy that were not granted. Ultimately exhausted and hoarse, all she’d been able to do was whimper as Tiffany had laughingly patted her blistered bottom, saying, “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it, Pepper? Two whole hours and not a single faint. I must say I’m impressed with your stamina. We didn’t need the old-smelling salts once.  Not bad, not bad at all for an introductory session! Any last words before I pop this back in?”.

Kathy had been too exhausted in body and spirit to reply beyond a pathetic squeak as the cruel girl held up the mouth bit she’d been shown earlier. Her fighting instinct had been temporarily crushed by physical incapacity. By pain and mental incredulity at what was happening to her, what had happened to her and the growing awareness of what might happen to her!

“No, nothing to say” Tiffany had laughed and then wedged that horrible bit between her teeth with which she was to become so accustomed. “All that silly noise earlier when we were dressing you, and now nothing, really!”

“Nooommmfff”

“No, too late now, pony” Tiffany had giggled and patted her on the head. “Now, I have some things to do, so you can stay on this bench and have a nice little rest. I’ll be back to play in a little while, and then you can return to your nice stall for some delicious din dins!” A statement Kathy remembered later when the big blonde dyke rammed her head into a stinking stainless-steel container and held it, forcing her to lap up her first meal. Especially that inflexion in the giggling brat's voice when she’d emphasised delicious!

That initial experience was stuck in her mind, no, not stuck. Burned, branded, seared into her brain and would be for life even if, by some miracle, she was freed from this nightmare to walk through those big double doors and back to sanity.  Two long hours! The most humiliating and debasing two hours imaginable. That was if any sane person could imagine that such wicked perversions could be perpetrated by one human being upon another in such a cold-blooded and sadistic manner.  Sadly history is full of such horror, and the two fiends that now ruled her life were no exception. They’d had abused and violated her body without hesitation, hadn’t they? Jointly revelling in her outraged protestations, feeding off her pain and humiliation like two voracious parasites satisfying their perverted appetites. Worse, their vile hunger seemed insatiable!

Kathy sobbed into the horrid bit, stretching her mouth at the memory. Miss Sammie had joined Tiffany to finish dressing her. Even now, Kathy gagged and choked as she recalled that first experience of finding out how helpless she truly was and how vulnerable and accessible to the pair of evil perverts as they’d ‘dressed’ her.

Her body was no longer her own, and her wardrobe was infinitely more limited than the sparse collection of garments she’d possessed in her care home days. Kind as her house parents and the other staff had been, the realities of local authority finances had inevitably meant a culture of seconds, hand downs and charitable donations of used clothing. Perhaps that partly explained her subsequent reckless spending on so many expensive outfits, dresses and shoes once she could afford them.  

Now she was restricted to a very meagre wardrobe, which was such an appropriate word considering what they had strapped and locked upon her. Nothing was loose, nothing was lightweight, and nothing was overly comfortable. Nor was any of the horrible stuff coming off anytime soon, or so she’d gathered, listening to what Tiffany and Sammie had laughingly discussed as they yanked straps tighter and tighter.

The inevitable necessity of close physical contact was one aspect of her business that Kathy had always hated, and this situation was a million times worse. Having her hair fussed about with or her make-up slowly and professionally applied had never bothered her, but her body was something else. Those glossy fashion photos of seemingly immaculate perception in the magazines might look like that from the front but go behind the model, which was a different story. Hasty tacks, safety pins, gathered up extra folds of cloth or even the opposite, gaping slits with flesh bulging through where a too-tight fit had received some on-the-spot relief adjustment via a box cutter or similar! A hastily applied band-aid wasn’t an unknown addition either in those situations.

Such shoots usually meant a dresser, even a whole team of people accessing her body, pushing, pulling, squeezing, and touching as they moulded her like a piece of clay to fit the outer layer and then often the pose they wanted. Catwalk shows were just as bad, but at least they ensured the clothes would fit in advance. However, it was no different behind the scenes, with quick changes assisted by the dressers. The same hasty hands, doing the same things and for some of those sad, ugly bitches handling a body like hers was maybe a perk of the job!

Jesus, but she was suffering, wasn’t she? That horrible screaming had finally stopped, and she’d seen Tiffany walk quickly past the front of her stall and exit through the big doors. Doubtlessly her evil work with whatever unfortunate captive male presumably finished, or at least for now. Such agonised screams and shouts were an all too frequent daily occurrence in the stable, and far too often, Kathy had been the one responsible. 

Jesus, she thought again as she squirmed and wriggled, trying to gain a modicum of release from the various straps and fastenings she sported in abundance. Did they need that many of the damn things, given the abbreviated nature of her costume as she thought it? Very abbreviated, for about the only thing not on show was her belly button. Not that her actions relieved anything, for the bastards were forever fiddling with what she wore. Fingers frequently sliding under tight straps and prying inquisitively into her most private and delicate places, often adding to her misery by tweaking yet another strap one notch tighter.

Two fucking hours Kathy thought again, a twelfth of a day, a sixth of half a day and the merest fraction of time in a year, and yet it had felt like an entire lifetime once the brat had started working on her as she’d put it. Working on her as though she was nothing more than a car engine to be serviced or some lifeless, soulless object akin to that!

Tiffany hadn’t liked the leather corset Kathy had awoken to find herself wearing. Well, neither had the wearer, but then Kathy had no choice in the matter, but compared to the brat's final choice and fit, that first one had been almost a comfort item. As a breed, she’d frequently noted, fashion photographers seemed invariably short-tempered and impatient on shoots, so Kathy was accustomed to being hustled out of one outfit and into the next. However, no previous experience could have prepared her for that first hour of playing a life-sized captive Barbie doll for a fetish-fixated brat and her partner in crime.

The pair hadn’t taken the slightest note of her as a person, an intelligent human being, as they’d stripped her and then dressed and undressed her while the fucking little red-headed bitch waivered between the various bits of harness tack, as they termed it. They must have had a ton of the wretched stuff stashed away, judging from the growing pile of discards as Tiffany tried one horrible thing after another on her until she was satisfied both with fit and colour.

Her new home was a relatively small rectangular stall that many years ago would have originally contained a real horse, not a two-legged fetish parody. Unpainted walls of rough-hewed grey stone brickwork, a stout wooden varnished partition between hers and the adjacent stall and the low door at the front.

“A king-sized bed compete with toilet facilities en-suite for madam”, Miss Sammie had laughed, pointing towards the flattened pile of soiled straw in one corner. The blonde had unclipped the reins from the mouth bit before roughly shoving Kathy towards the rear of the stall, along with a farewell slap upon her poor, tortured bottom. An agonised bottom burning from the second of those two horrible hours as it received that little ‘taster’ from the brat.

Not being used to the stupid boots, they’d only just strapped to her long legs she’d staggered backwards two steps and then fallen in the dirt.  “Generous toilet facilities readily to hand”, the big blonde laughed, kicking up a pile of muck with the toe of her boot.  “Plus in, room dining via regular room service”, she’d pointed with her crop to a low shelf containing a stainless steel water bowl with a large round slot cut into it to accommodate a similarly sized bowl alongside. “Dinner will be served in a couple of hours, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, not!”.

The nasty blonde had sniggered that last part as she left the stall, and then as an afterthought, as she clicked the low door closed, turned and smirked. “Oh, a word of warning. Our ponies adore their delicious food; they always lick their bowless spotless! Just as well because  Miss Tiffany disapproves of ungrateful animals that spurn her generous hospitality, and I think you’ve just found out how she deals with that!”.

Kathy glanced towards the shelf. Her food bowl had been taken away after breakfast, as usual, empty and licked clean as required. It had only taken Kathy a couple of meals to decide life was terrible enough without adding  Miss Tiffany’s mealtime disapproval to her problems. Eating and drinking with your head in a bowl that way was so damn demeaning, and once they replaced her mouth bit impossible for food and difficult for water. The revolting mush they dished up twice daily was always far too salty hence her thirst. Her mouth bit was tight, cruelly tight, but there were some holes in it, and with an effort, she could suck up small amounts of water just like a fucking wild animal at a watering hole in one of the Attenborough documentaries on TV, but at least that might be fresh. It was not covered with a film of dust and the odd dead insect like hers until they changed it again.

Kathy automatically wriggled in what must already have been the one-thousandth attempt to obtain some leeway and comfort against the cruel bindings holding her body in bondage. A pointless exercise in that Miss fucking brat Tiffany’s nimble fingers would no doubt swiftly rectify any such slackness the next time she checked, and at the moment, that was almost every time she appeared. Being hands-on with her newest ‘animal’, as she put it, was obviously a big turn-on for the little bitch.

Flattened straw, dirt, a bowl of dusty water, and a full-length modern frameless wall mirror mounted dead centre on the wooden partition. Tiffany had even pointed it out as a unique feature she’d added just for her newest pony. Not to Kathy directly, of course, for apart from that first morning, she’d not addressed a single remark to her other than curt commands. ‘Why waste words on a dumb beast’ she’d said to the blonde dyke one morning. That was so fucking infuriating, and they did it all the time. Kathy had learned much that way and did not like what she had learned.

No, they talked to each other, knowing she could hear and comprehend everything they said. Sometimes Tiffany would even talk to herself aloud, thus achieving the same aim without deigning to address her pony directly!

Tiffany had pointed out that reflective addition to her larger partner in crime later that first full day. “A little touch of home for my newest animal. Daddy tells me the slut was always preening herself and couldn’t pass a mirror anywhere without admiring herself, ” the girl had laughed. “Well, now she has all the time in the world to admire herself and her new outfit. I hope she’s got a lot of patience because the next quick change will be a long time off, I expect!”

Kathy glanced at the mirror and would have ground her teeth in frustration if she could. Unfortunately, owing to a rather uncomfortable hard rubber bar filling her mouth, she couldn’t and had to settle for an angry, irritated scowl instead.

Another fucking lie. Okay, so she frequently paused briefly to check on her makeup and appearance, so what? Every girl in the fucking business soon learned to do that. The agents and agencies even told them to do it. They were paid to look good in public, and thus they were their best advertisements. Then there were the companies that often provided freebies in the form of expensive cosmetics and designer clothing who could be pretty ruthless and have long memories if they didn’t like what they saw—preening indeed!

The addition of that mirror was a subtle act of sadism on the red-headed bitches part. It was never truly dark in the stable. Even at night when the main lights were off, others provided a dim level of illumination that wasn’t that dim once your eyes got used to it. That fucking mirror was always there, as was so often her reflection upon its impartial glass surface.

Kathy gazed back at her hateful reflection as she’d done many times already in the brief, although it didn’t feel brief, time she’d been resident in the stable. Initially, it had been trying to find a weak point, something she could exploit to rid herself of the restraints that bound and incapacitated her so effectively. Lately, though, such looks had waivered betwixt anger and apathy as she realised her captors had left no such loopholes for her to utilise.

Quite how she would have done so was another question, she thought, looking back at herself. Her arms were secured one above the other behind her back in a tight armbinder of vivid scarlet leather, her fingers immobile in leather mittens. ‘Scarlet tack for a Scarlet woman’, Tiffany had decided. A tight Scarlett corselet that not only left her boobs exposed but also supported and uplifted them and offered them to the world at large. Or, in this case, for the benefit of the brat that had dressed her in the damn thing! Dressed her with less feeling than she might have a plastic doll. No, that wasn’t true, was it? The girl had enjoyed every damn moment of the humiliation she inflicted on her living, breathing human doll.

The horrible high collar around her neck was a similar colour likewise the boots her legs had been crammed into. Boots such as she’d never seen in her life nor imagined such horrible things could exist. Hoof boots, they called them, and in their eyes, she no longer had feet but had to stagger around on her hooves. She was forced to stand permanently on her toes as though in high heels, and although Kathy had always worn heels in public, nothing beat kicking them off at the first opportunity, only here there was no such opportunity. She was condemned to wear the wretched things continually night and day!          

Kathy had screamed, shouted, sobbed, begged not that the pair had paid the slightest attention, and then she’d been silenced once they’d added more matching scarlet leather in the form of a head harness and, finally, the horrible mouth bit. Worse, the brat had grabbed hold of a handful of her hair as though considering it, then said to her companion. “We’ll leave the animals mane for now. Let it get accustomed to the bridle. Anyway, I haven’t decided what style I want it to have, so I don’t want to shave her now and then regret it later, do I?”

“What about branding her and ringing her” The big blonde had said, making Kathy’s blood run cold. They couldn’t be serious, no way!

Kathy had screamed even harder into the bit, her eyes bulging. Branding, shave her head, her crowing glory! No way and she gasped silently with relief as Tiffay shook her head.

“No, all in good time. Time for that later once she’d become accustomed to her new life. Maybe when the vets up next, just in case of any complications”.

That was only a momentary reprieve, for the horror continued unabated as that seemed to remind Tiffany of something. She disappeared for a moment and then came back carrying several items, a pair of scissors, a razor and a can of foam. Her every instinct was to struggle as they bent her backwards so that her most private area was easily accessible, but then she heard Tiffany say somewhat callously. “Hold her, please. Anyway, If she struggles and gets herself cut where it hurts most, it’ll be her own damn fault, nothing a few drops of antiseptic won't cure. It’ll  probably sting like crazy, but better that than this cunt having a septic cunt, eh!”

Kathy had frozen at that point. Venereal disease or thrush, anything like that, had always terrified her. She was paranoid so far as personal hygiene and cleanliness of that area went. Like every model, she kept herself trimmed down there but never totally minus a hirsute strip, and she didn’t need a rocket science or medicine degree to know just what the brat would do with that cheap plastic disposable razor. The thought of being nicked or cut down there terrified her, so she ceased all motion abruptly bar that of her horrified eyes.

Kathy had thought it the most humiliating thing they could do to her, especially when she squirmed in anger and shame, feeling Tiffany’s small hand roaming all over the area she’d just shaved.  Worse, one small finger explored her vaginal opening while another inquisitive finger penetrated her rear before delivering a proprietary pat to be bottom.

Satisfied that Kathy was as smooth as she wanted, the girl disappeared briefly before returning with another scarlet strap dangling from one hand. It wasn’t the strap that caused Kathy’s eyes to bulge again but the two bright pink objects in the girl's other hand. This time after one horrified look, Kathy did go ballistic. Naive and ignorant she might be so far as this crazy kidnapping pony malarkey went, she could recognise a fucking pink plastic dildo and butt plug when she saw them!

Looking at her reflection in the mirror of all the things they’d done to her that first day, that particular memory was by far the worst, even allowing for how Miss fucking Tiffany had subsequently amused herself shortly afterwards with her ‘conductors batons’. ‘Somehow, watching and feeling the giggling brat violate her body with those loathsome objects had bothered her far more than the beating that followed, painful and humiliating as it had been.

Thanks to that high uncomfortable collar that held her head virtually immobile, she could only see that final strap via the mirror. Kathy hated that scarlet strap as vehemently as the two sizeable invaders it retained in her unwilling body. Invaders that were changed every few days during her ‘extended grooming’ thus perpetuating that cruel humiliation. The fucking strap was way too tight the way it split the generous, fleshy outer lips of her vulva, chaffed her inner thighs when she waked or wobbled in her ridiculous footwear and somehow kept those horrible things wedged deeply front and back.

Her eyes moistened, and a single tear briefly escaped her right eye to be quickly absorbed by the underside of a narrow bridle strap. Kathy had always been sensitive about how ‘big’ she was down there compared to many other girls, and never by choice would she wear a bathing suit or bikini bottom that was overly tight in that region. She’d done a few photoshoots that made her cringe when she saw the published pictures, and she often wondered if other people noticed what she did.

Unfortunately, Miss fucking brat had, of course! How could she not when she was gleefully forcing that short fat pink dildo up into the most intimate area of her body? But she’d found the time to put her fingernails to painful use, bitch!  Her outer lips were twice the size now or looked it, thanks to the little sadist and the flap on the end of her crop. Not to mention painfully sore and even more sensitive to that fucking strap that felt like it was trying to split her in two!

Kathy turned away from the mirror, shaking her head as another tear threatened to escape wondering why she felt so damn horny. She’d never had any masochistic tendencies, and even if she had been inclined, this place was way over the top in that respect. Maybe they were putting something in her food? Didn’t they used to do that in days gone by to soldiers and prisoners, only the opposite, add something to dampen their ardour?

Unthinkingly she kicked the dirt with one of her clumsy boots only to instantly regret the thoughtless action. She’d absently taken a couple of paces towards the stall door and was now a victim of her booby trap as she thought it. Not that it was very effective, for they just walked straight through it or dragged her the same way, seemingly ‘not giving a shit’, literally that she had, and just in that same spot!

Another horrible insane frustration. The things inside her, although substantial, were not solid and allowed the passage of liquids. The short, fat one in front stretched and humiliated yet frustratingly lacked the depth needed to reach her clit when she tried to hump the wall.  At least it was her decision about where and when she pissed despite the humiliation of squatting and doing it in the dirt. Unlike the one up her fucking bum. Like most people, Kathy had taken her sphincter muscles for granted. Now they’d been effectively bypassed, deliberately rendered useless, and her captors seemed to find the result so damned amusing! They also seemed immune to the accompanying foul smell permeating the entire building that had registered with her that first afternoon despite her drugged state.

She shook her leg and wiped the hoof-like appendage through the dirt several times, trying to scrape the muck off via the hard underneath surface without much success. Was there something else in the food, or did they need to do that given it was liquidised, designed to be licked and slurped quickly rather than chewed and masticated? Designating a place in her stall for such foul outpourings had been an early decision, and bloody-mindedness on her part had moved it from that far corner to the entrance to inconvenience her captors.

It hadn’t, they didn’t give a damn, and she got as much of it as they did, so why bother! Even as she thought about it, Kathy automatically moved as quickly as she could as her body delivered a three-second warning. She staggered towards the doorway, changed her mind and reached the corner just a fraction too late to squat, groaning as the first uncontrolled gush soiled her thighs and boots.

“Shit!” A somewhat ironic choice of profanity under the circumstances as she squatted in the dirt. To think that three years ago, she’d accompanied her latest beau to the royal box on the second day of the prestigious Royal Ascot race meeting. Admittedly they’d been seated right at the back, but she was positive that when they stood for the queen’s entry, she’d received a royal smile, or at least one had been aimed in her general direction.

Kathy caught sight of herself in that fucking mirror. From that regal height to this? To squatting in the dirt to take a dump over which she had no control. Then she heard the stable door bang loudly, and a moment later, Tiffany’s face, surrounded by a loose unruly mass of red hair, appeared over the stall door.  Kathy froze, or most of her did. Not another session, please god not another session. The brat smiled as she saw what Kathy was doing, and then she disappeared.

“Hey Sammie, that new stuff has come. I’ll bring the box down so we can unpack it”.

Kathy breathed a sigh of relief and promptly squirted again into the dirt beneath her haunches. Once more, she looked across to the mirror, and although she was too far to see them, the tears began to run unrestrained from her mournful eyes.

Two drifters, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see

Time had become meaningless; anyway, she had no clock, no calendar, and every damn day was the same, so why worry about it? Kathy did, though and by her reckoning, she’d been here what, more than three weeks, five but surely not six? It felt like a lifetime already, yet she guessed it to be a mere fraction compared to some of her stablemates.

Depression and worse were common among girls in the business but had been unknown to Kathy. They said it was a sort of illness of the mind, yet something she personally could never conceive. Her life had been too full, too exciting for such stupidity, and anyway, it must only happen to weak-minded people, mustn’t it?  Now, she knew different after what, four, five, six weeks or more. If there were a way out, a quick exit, even though it was permanent, she’d take it without the slightest hesitation. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one unless it was possible to die from humiliation and degradation. Maybe the brat would flog her to death one day but no, no way. Tiffany was far too careful about that. The brat could have found employment with the Spanish Inquisition or, what were they called, the Nazi Gestapo, couldn’t she? How many fucking years had she been practising her savagery in the stable, and yet she was only just old enough to vote!

Still sulking after her intimate morning grooming and smarting from the four fresh stripes the brat's cane had left on her bottom Kathy had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she’d missed the newcomer's silent entry till he spoke.

“My goodness. I must say you’re looking wonderful in all that get up, old girl. Tiffy said you’d adapted far better than she’d expected to stable life!  Quite the sight. Absolutely top-hole and spiffing as my dear old long-gone grandpater would have said, bless him!”

 Kathy spun round and gaped, or at least she would have done had her bridle allowed her jaw to drop. ‘Roger!’ No, yes, finally. He was leaning on the entrance door smiling at her with a lit cigarette in one hand. Kathy hated cigarettes and detested the smoke they produced. An ashtray with attendant ash and a few butts could make her wretch. She’d nagged him incessantly until he’d stopped in her presence and assured her he would finally make every effort to give up the weed, not that she’d seriously believed he would. However, once ensconced in his London home, she would insist he have all the furniture, curtains and carpets cleaned once they were married and confine himself to the outdoors when indulging in his filthy noxious habit!  A limp cock, a premature ejaculation she could live with, but smoking indoors would be an absolute no no!

“RRRooooogggaaaa!” she screamed into her bit and hurried over to him, conscious of her blatant nudity and her absurd costume. She was so excited, so relieved to see him standing there that everything else was momentarily banished from her mind. Her hope and relief at seeing him there so nonchalantly looking into her stall would surely mean an abrupt end to all this stupidity.

Of course, the only one being stupid was Kathy herself, but that thought didn’t even register; she was so eager to resolve this absurd situation. It must be a mistake, and he would sort it out immediately. Hell, she wouldn’t even kick up a fuss; well, not much of one, given how god dammed insane and illegal this fucking hell hole was. Did he know about…

Kathy stopped just short of the stall door, looking at him in horror. Tall, slim, upright, his long silvery grey hair needing a trim, looking no different from the elegant, well-dressed gent who’d wined, dined and wooed her, and he was…was smiling at her. Fucking smiling! Not a trace of outrage or astonishment or anything like that. Smiling and not just that, either. He looked at her…just like his fucking evil little brat looked at her over that low door. Admiring her as though she were some fucking farmer's prized sow or whatever!

 “Rrrroooooggggnnooo”, Kathy screamed into her mouth, trying desperately to form coherent words stamping her right foot in its clumsy boot up and down in the dirt. “Ttttiiiiffffffeee!”

He took a drag from his long cigarette, one of those evil-smelling black ones he favoured. He’d once told her they were imported specially from a small tobacconist in Turkey just before she’d told him to export it and himself outside the restaurant. The fact that it was illegal to smoke inside hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. ‘Private room and they appreciate my regular generous patronage’ he’d assured her smugly, but she’d still made him stand in the street in the rain!

“Steady on, old girl, you’re going purple. Bust a blood vessel or something if you aren’t careful, what?” he smiled and exhaled a cloud of evil smoke into her face while reaching out with his other hand to reassuringly pat her right breast.

Kathy barely noticed either action as her mind reeled, overwhelmed and disbelieving but yet somehow understanding at the same time as she stared back at him. The same suave, smiling Roger with his dated mannerisms and old-fashioned talk and yet not the same person. He knew, the bastard knew, must have known all along and not just about the fucking evil stable, but he knew about her, knew she was here and what his foul brat had done to her. Kathy could only stare back at him through horror-filled eyes beginning to tear up.

“Used to hate coming in here, you know,” he told her, affably, withdrawing his hand and gesturing around the building. “Absolutely loathed it even though I paid for it and for what my wife kept in here.  You can’t imagine….” He paused and then chuckled, taking another drag on his reeking cigarette. “Silly, of course, you can imagine! Funny what you’ll do for love, isn’t it? How far one is prepared to go?  Of course, she didn’t tell me straight off what she intended, just a couple of horses at first, and then one-day Moira invited me to come and see her latest occupant. A bit of a shock at the time, but” he paused and chuckled. “Now, there’s an understatement if ever there was one” he shrugged. “Well, a bit of give and take, and you get used to things, don’t you and…” he sighed and shook his head. “I do miss her, and of course, Tiffany reminds me so much” he paused again, looking very sad, then shook himself and chuckled, exhaled another cloud of smoke, and took a deep breath.

“Girl was right, you know. A hair of the dog, or dogs in this case,” he laughed. “I used to hate the stink in this place, but now I find it quite the opposite. My wife always found it stimulating, a long day in here amid the stench with her special ponies and she was always ready for an early night,” he chuckled again, adding with a sly wink. “Not that she had sleeping in mind!”

“Noooommffff”, Kathy glared at him, her mind still in a whirl and only half listening to him as he prattled on so cheerfully. The bastard wasn’t going to do anything, was he? No, he didn’t care, didn’t give a damn and as for his fucking bitch of a daughter?

“Even thinking of this place these days has a certain, well, a certain, shall we say, ‘stimulating’ effect. Pity I couldn’t have bottled the aroma and let it loose in my place in Knightsbridge, eh? Might have saved me some embarrassment when I failed the test, so to speak, what? Still, from the pictures my little girl showed me, you didn’t exactly go short when my back was turned. Every bloody night, eh?”

“Noofffeffffffynnnnniiit”, Kathy wailed and stamped her foot again in frustration. Not that the action was any more helpful than her futile vocal attempts as the thick dirt muffled any sound. He didn’t sound angry as he spoke, merely quiet and disappointed.

“Could have brought you up here, I suppose”, Roger mused. “Tiffy wasn’t too keen on that idea, though, and I somehow doubted you’d be as open-minded as I was that first time Moria brought me over here to see her first two-legged equine. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you, but you are, or were I should say, a bit of a prude, you know, girl, despite that hungry cunt of yours? Only ever doing it in the dark and not taking your knickers off until you’d climbed into bed and things like that!” he took a long drag on his cigarette before continuing. “Doesn’t help to excite ones old John Thomas you know?” he complained.

Unlike my Moira, she wasn’t the least bit inhibited in the bedroom. Way too brazen at times, I thought. Have to admit that my mind was well and truly blown that first afternoon when she casually shed her top and then got her whip out and used it on the poor fellow.  The way her tits bounced about! Talk about mind-boggling!” he sighed again, then grinned. “But boy, did she make an effort to unboggle me later that evening. Not that it required much of an effort, as I recall,” he laughed and then winked again, adding. “Well, watching her back then was always a pleasure; likewise these days, when young Tiffy gets going?” he chuckled, adding, “Not that she ever flashes her assets about like Moira was prone to when the mood took her!”

 “Anyway, don’t fret; I’ll pop back before I leave. I've been thinking of this for the last few days and don’t want to waste all the pressure that’s built up now I’m here, a full head of steam.” He grinned and patted her right breast. “As I said, I find this place so stimulating these days. Toodle-oo, as grandaddy used to say, for now, Honey”.

Kathy instinctively jumped backwards as he leaned forward away from that patronising touch upon her breast and the cloud of foul-smelling smoke. Unfortunately, still not fully accustomed to her horrible footwear nor perching permanently on the front part of her foot, she found herself rolling in the dirt again. By the time she’d recovered herself and her footing, he’d disappeared, leaving only that swirling smoke and a final chuckle in her ears as she’d tumbled.

Kathy regained her feet and shuffled to the door, then paused. Standing a little way inside her stall and looking out was permitted but standing right against the door to look up and down the stable as best she could despite her restricting collar and bindings was strictly verboten!  Curiosity in such animals was natural, as Miss Tiffany had once remarked to her big blonde accomplice, but only so much could be allowed. Kathy’s bottom had experienced the painful penalty more than once for exceeding that allowance!

No one was in sight bar Roger who was looking into the next but one stall down. “Looks like you’ve been a naughty girl again, eh, Bonnie? Then again, maybe not. We both know how your stepdaughter feels about you don’t we?” he chuckled. “Doesn’t need much of an excuse; takes after her mother in that way but count yourself lucky. Unless I’m mistaken, Moira’s first husband occupied this very same stall for several years, and if you think you’ve been treated harshly, well! He finished with a short barking laugh and moved on to the next stall.

“Good morning, Clyde, pleased to see me, eh boy? No, of course not, silly me! Sorry, I’ve been AWOL for a couple of weeks—business commitments are tedious but exceedingly profitable. I was actually in your country for a few days, well, correction, in Sweden, the next-door neighbour. All Scandinavia, though, isn’t it? Near enough, I flew over Norway both ways, so that sort of counts. Now don’t back away like that, silly boy; it’s not as if I’m a total stranger, is it?

Kathy watched as he laughed, flipped open the door catch, and disappeared from her sight into the stall, but she could still hear him. His gravelly rich voice, perhaps a fraction muted, but every word reaching her still astounded and somewhat shell-shocked brain.

“Only so far you can go anyway, Clyde, so why waste energy trying to walk through a brick wall especially when we both know how much you will expend shortly thrashing about!” He chuckled wickedly. “Mind you, after my recent trip, I now understand why you and the thieving bitch next door needed all that money of mine. Have you bought a beer over there or a tot of whisky recently, my god!” then there was another low laugh, and she heard him mutter, “Foolish question, eh, Clyde. Now come on, don’t be skittish boy”.

Kathy’s brain clicked into gear. Stepdaughter, money, Norway, Bonnie and Clyde, no way!  Had it not been for the strap under her chin, her jaw would have been on the floor as two plus two added up to six and probably a whole lot more. Evidently, the normal rules of law, order, life and probably the whole damn universe did not apply in this stinking hell hole and to those who ran the fucking evil place.

“Now, boy, behave. BEHAVE!” a distinct crack emphasised that last angry command that Kathy was only too familiar with, although the sound of that crack was always secondary to the pain accompanying it.

“Now walk, walk, on, move, you stupid beast. You might not have anything better to do all day, but I certainly have!” that crack sounded again twice, and then Roger emerged from the stall backwards, holding a leash attached to the ring in the big blonde guy’s nose. The tall one with the Mohican haircut and the purple harness. He seemed to tower over Roger in his hoof boots, and Roger was taller than most guys. Clyde and Bonnie next door.  Bonnie and Clyde! Kathy remembered seeing that movie on late-night TV, Faye Dunaway and….and another guy. Bank robbers in the states during the nineteen thirties.

Kathy watched as Roger half led, half dragged the big guy towards and through that dreaded arch at the far end, or half watched; her eyes were also flicking around the other stalls, suddenly seeing a connection, movies. The brat had called her Pepper, hadn’t she? A working name unless she came up with something better, she’d told big Sammie. Named after George Peppard, who had starred in her mother’s favourite movie. Moon River, the theme tune that she already hated, like no other piece of music she’d ever heard. Doubtlessly they all did, for Tiffany sometimes played it on an endless loop when one of them was being ‘corrected’ as the brat termed it on that bloody bench down there! Soothing background music Tiffany. More like a fucking signature tune for the little brat's sadism!

“Aaaaaghhh!” Kathy squealed as a small gloved hand attempted to detach a sizeable clump of her hair from her head, twisting and pulling savagely. At least that’s what it felt like! Her head was turned around to look into a pair of angry green eyes below a fringe of red hair as the pressure was released, and a leather-clad finger tapped her sharply on the nose—the little sadist in person.

“Bad Pony, bad Pepper, bad, bad, bad! “What daddy is doing down there is none of your business, but don’t worry, you’ll get your share soon enough. I have plans for you, big plans” Tiffany giggled. “But time enough for that once I’ve broken you in, pony!” she hooked the finger through one of Kathy’s bridle straps and pulled her head closer. “Curiosity may have killed the cat, but in my stable….well, we both know what happens to ponies that can’t mind their own business. Don’t fret, though; the stable cane has never killed one” Tiffany paused and laughed. “Although I expect they wished it would. As I’m sure you will by this evening!”

Kathy’s eyes bulged, and she began to tremble as the small leather-gloved finger tapped the tip of her nose.  “Catch you later, girl!”

Instinct prompted her to take a step backwards as Tiffany smiled and headed down the stable, but then, what the hell, the brat wasn’t one to change her mind, was she? Kathy took a pace forward and twisted around. Minding her own business had never been one of Kathy’s strong points.

“Not your lucky day, eh Bonnie” Tiffany laughed, stopping briefly by the number three stall and then peering into the adjacent one. “I’d have been ten pounds richer if Sammie had accepted the bet, but she wouldn’t play ball. Probably been keeping count like me. What’s the score now? It must be four-nil to Clyde when it comes to getting humped. Poor you! I expect you must be as randy as that slut Pepper back there by now. You whores are all the same underneath, but at least this time, I wised up daddykins before that one got her hoofs on any of his dosh! Anyway, talking about gold-diggers!”

Kathy watched as the young redhead spun on her heel and crossed to one of the opposite stalls pulling off her right glove and then snapping her fingers several times. The girl who lived in that one appeared immediately, responding to that impatient summons. Zebbie, that was her name, and you didn’t need to be a Sherlock Homes to know why Tiffany had called her that. Even Doctor Watson would have got that one after a single horrified glance.

The evil twosome liked to exercise their captives outside in the fresh air, so Kathy was ideally placed to see the various occupants as they were led past and through the big double doors. The girl was one of the smaller occupants of the stable and would have been around Tiffany’s height without the stupid boots they all wore. It must have been around the fourth or fifth day when Tiffany had led her past the stall. The sight of that poor girl had shocked and disgusted Kathy perhaps more than anything that had happened in those first few days.

Not even her second and prolonged painful ‘training’ session with the brat came close to that moment of dreadful revulsion! Had it not been for that bit tightly clamped across her mouth, she’d have emptied her heaving stomach into the dirt there and then. Instead, she had to contain the impulse and remained uncomfortably nauseous for the next few hours.

“Nice and dull out today, so it’s safe for a walk, Zebbie.” Tiffany had laughed as they exited. “Don’t want that delicate gleaming white hide of yours getting even the tiniest touch of the sun, do we?”

Kathy had stared after them. Suntan, sunburn! That would have been a minor problem for the poor woman or girl. You couldn’t tell because the damn bridles hid most of the face but almost certainly a girl. She wasn’t wearing one of the restrictive corsets that all the others wore and hadn’t the figure of a mature woman.  What she did have, and in sickening abundance, was many stripes different from those  Kathy had across her bottom and thighs. Well, she also had them, but they weren’t the ones that caught her eye. The girl sported black stripes maybe an inch or so wide and everywhere. Belly, boobs, bottom, and legs, like someone, had painted her naked body. Body paint, another requirement for a couple of photo shoots Kathy had rejected out of hand, regardless of the generous fee.

Thirty minutes later, Kathy’s earlier curiosity turned to horror as Tiffany returned, walking the restrained girl past her stall by her nose ring tether as casually as people walked their dogs in the local park. This time it was the left side in view, making Kathy retch in disgust. Her revulsion wasn’t at the sight of the fresh livid marks that marred the girl's buttocks from the riding crop Tiffany carried.  Every occupant of the stable had those, including herself. Evidently, being scorched by something other than the sun was perfectly acceptable.

 Kathy realised it wasn’t body paint that contrasted so sharply with the girl's pale porcelain skin nor anything similar. Those striped markings were ugly body marring permanent tattoos! Kathy shuddered. Tattoos and body piercings were anathema to her. Why any pretty woman would want to disfigure herself in such an ugly way was beyond her understanding! Fuck fashion trends if they went down that road! Worse still to her eye, she unthinkingly shuffled forward and peeped out to keep the pair in view. Compared to the heavy markings on the girl’s other side and right bottom cheek, it appeared to be a case of work in progress!

One of Kathy's ongoing fears was body piercing and when or if they would do it to her. It seemed fairly arbitrary, no doubt dependent on the brat’s whim. Some of her fellow captives sported nose rings, and others didn’t. Some had their nipples pierced and ringed, both male and female, and some didn’t. So far, she was unmarred and desperately hoped to stay that way, unlike that poor zebra-stripped girl. How were they doing that to her?

A question answered the following day when a commotion opposite one evening had naturally piqued Kathy’s curiosity again. Hell, it wasn’t as if there was anything else remotely interesting to do. You could only count the bricks in the wall so many times a day to stay sane!  Tiffany had barged through the external doors and walked straight past her with complete indifference, for which Kathy had been profoundly grateful. A moment later, the brat was leading or, more accurately, dragging that other girl, Zebbie, from her stall and down towards the arched doorway at the end. Zebbie was not following as docilely as she had on the previous occasion! Very much the opposite, not that her reluctance proved too much of a hindrance to Tiffany, just an additional excuse to use her crop on the poor girl. 

A few minutes later, the real commotion had started that had truly sickened Kathy and scared the proverbial shit out of her. Literally, in this case, since there was no way to prevent it with that tube stuck up her bum. A bare tail tube yet compared to the other ‘tailed’ occupants. Miss fucking evil sadistic, brat, stable mistress not having made her mind up about Kathy’s hair yet. “No rush, eh pony”, she’d say, running a hand through it, stroking it as you would a pet dog while Kathy shuddered and would have ground her teeth in silent rage had it not been for the cruel bit in her mouth. Tears came into her eyes whenever she thought about how helpless she was and how they could violate her body like that!

They could and did, though, didn’t they? They could do anything they wanted, including what Tiffany was doing to that poor girl with her strange pale complexion. The buzz of the needle device was clearly audible despite the girls terrible screaming that went on and on seemingly for hours. Even then, that continuous stream of gut-wrenching sobs remained audible, occasionally punctuated by some irate callous command from the callous brat. God, that must have hurt, maybe more so, given how her skin looked so pale and delicate! Nor were those black stripes the only ones the brat added to her poor body during that session! The little sadist never missed an opportunity, did she?

Kathy watched as the zebra-like girl responded to finger snaps coming to the front of her stall, allowing her sadistic young mistress to stroke her head and pert little stripped breasts. She heard Tiffany giggle and say. “This cute udder looks so much better than the other, eh girl? Pity I can’t erase and start again now that I’m getting the hang of it and haven’t splotched for ages! Once I’ve done your face and head, I’m half thinking I might start on the other animals, add their names, for instance, somewhere prominent and take it from there,” then she laughed, “easy to find a suitably prominent spot on my fillies but then again why not with the boys there as well? It would keep the uniformity. Besides, that’s where you see people wearing name badges, isn’t it!”

Kathy gasped or would have done it if it hadn’t been for that wretched bar in her mouth as her eyes followed Tiffany to the far end of the stable. The girl stopped outside the doorway and laughed at something she couldn’t see. Not that she needed to, for the noises emanating from that area told their own story and had done for the last ten minutes. Oddly given the circumstances, that unseen but audible activity down the far end irked her a little. How absurd was that, but it did!  Kathy had been lucky if she got three minutes and a half minutes before Roger rolled off her! Clyde, it seemed, was the beneficiary of a far more prolonged fucking.

Tiffany took a couple of paces backwards and then called. “Margie just called. You left your phone on the sofa again. I told her you were otherwise engaged,” the girl paused and added with a silly giggle. “I told her you were out but would ‘come’ as soon as you could!

The response wasn’t loud enough for Kathy’s straining ears to decipher, but Tiffany giggled again and walked back to the entrance calling over her shoulder, “I told her you’d call back in half an hour, okay?” This time she did acknowledge Kathy with a sad shake of the head and waggled a finger from side to side in a negative gesture, mouthing ‘later’ at her.

The girl was hardly through the doors when she heard Roger’s voice shouting excitedly from the opposite end. “That’s it, that’s it, big boy. Oh my, that’s it, oh boy, oh my splendid Viking, that’s it!”. Then there was silence for a few minutes until that familiar evil crack broke it, and then the big blonde guy, Clyde, appeared with Roger behind him, holding a whippy crop.

Kathy watched as her supposed betrothed steered his charge back into his stall, closed the door and hung the crop on a convenient hook. She could even see the smile on his face as he gazed into the enclosure before rubbing his hands together with a chuckle. “Splendid, eh boy? Best ride we’ve had yet. Amazing what a little absence does, isn’t it? I don’t know about it making the heart grow fonder, but it certainly made something else grow harder, eh what?”

Roger looked at his watch and walked towards the doors, galvanising Kathy into frantic action.  She kicked her feet up and down in the dirt and banged herself backwards and forwards against the stall door making as much audible noise as her bit allowed. He stopped immediately and looked at her in surprise as though he’d forgotten all about her. Then he smiled slowly and walked over until he was close enough to gently raise a hand and pat her head.

“Hey, girl. Hey. Don’t take on like that old thing, might do yourself an injury, strain a fetlock, what? Hah, I almost forgot you, what with leaving the usual little deposit in Clyde there” he turned his head and called. “Crime doesn’t pay, boy! Better luck next time, maybe!” he grinned and winked at Kathy. “Not that there will be a next time for him, or” he gave a sort of apologetic shrug. “Not for any of you, come to that!” he waved his hand around and then looked thoughtful. “then again, I suppose, taking all this into account, some crime does pay for those that can afford it!”

Kathy just stared back at him, stunned into total silence. The moment he’d walked through those doors, she’d been sure that, somehow, this bizarre circus would come to an immediate end. Yet here he was patting her just like his fucking brat did, and he’d just, just…. Her mind was elsewhere for a second or two before it returned to him.

“….yes, I must say I was surprised as well. Never for a moment thought I was that way inclined, well you don’t, do you? Not at my age, anyway. I always assumed one was born that way. It was Sammie who suggested it in passing one day. I was experimenting with Bonnie’s back door for a change. The bitch had never been over-enthusiastic about letting me through the front door during her brief presence in the marital bed. So much for conjugal rights, eh? Anyway, I thought it might prove amusing for a change.  Well, I said to myself that night when thinking about it. I mean, they’re both ponies now, and somehow it seemed more satisfying than whipping the big thieving bastard's butt!” he broke off and chuckled. “You know, I believe I get harder thinking about that stallion these days than I ever did with the silly mare next door! Hell, I bet that pill I popped wasn’t even needed!”.

Kathy had fallen silent and stood motionless as he prattled on about his returning virility, both hearing and not hearing what he was saying as the grim reality of her situation overcame her. Foolish as it now seemed, she’d been sure that Roger would appear at some point and put an immediate end to this crazy farce. But it wasn’t a farce. No, it was reality. She glanced up at the cyclop's eye of a small camera. Genuine reality TV, not the fake scripted kind, with a very unwilling cast and a minuscule but enthusiastic audience. A tear formed in her right eye and ran down her cheek as another welled up in her left eye. The tears continued to flow even after the bastard had bid her a cheery goodbye and gone for his lunch, promising to return later.

We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend

My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me

“Now come on, Pepper. I don’t want to use this nasty switch on you but believe me, I will if you’re going to be stubborn. Sorry to have disappointed you, my dear. I saw that look in your eyes, that flash of hope when I first walked in, but honestly! I mean, what did you imagine I was going to do?  Did you think I’d throw up my hands in horror and summon the local constabulary to cart young Tiffany off to the nearest gaol? He chuckled and shook the reins he was holding. “Anyhow, filial responsibility aside, it would seem an ill-advised course of action regarding self-preservation.

As you know, I’ve more than a few pennies tucked under the proverbial mattress! However, I doubt if greasing palms at any level would prevent me from joining her in the dock on a string of serious charges! Now, be a good filly and walk on”.

Kathy stumbled forward, feeling the end of that long whippy switch on her bottom. It had been a gentle, insistent poke, unlike every other time such an implement touched her flesh and made her howl in agony.  True to his word,  Roger had reappeared an hour or so later, minus the Turkish cigarette, but his breath smelled strongly of whisky. Kathy had a very sensitive nose for such things, or had until they’d incarcerated her in this stinking prison!

“Been chatting with young Tiffy over lunch about you…no, not that!” he laughed and patted her cheek. “Out of the question, I’m afraid, if that’s what put that sudden hopeful gleam back in your eye. Besides, even if you could be trusted to keep mum about my daughter’s quirky little hobby, it would be a bit awkward trying to explain your sudden resurrection, eh what!” he chuckled. “The curvaceous blonde Lazarus. All those annoying paparazzi, the camera flashes, the tabloid front pages, TV interviews and lord knows what. Bet you’d love that! Back in the big time again, so I doubt any such promise would last five minutes!”

He'd opened her stall and hooked a set of reins on her bridle while talking and pulling her forward as he opened the door. Kathy snorted loudly and tried to swing a heavy hoof boot at him as Roger stepped backwards. A futile act with that hobble chain between her knees and his nimble footwork, but he seemed to find it amusing.

“Now, as I said, behave. Any silliness, and I will use this nasty thing, and I know it damn well hurts”. He paused and laughed. “Can’t speak from personal experience, at least not in the way Bonnie and Clyde can when I’ve used it on their thieving hides, or could if they were allowed”, he corrected himself. “A few introductions, my family and other animals, eh? Very apt, now where to start? “

He walked into the middle of the stable dragging Kathy along with him, then paused, looking about before turning back to Kathy and tapping her lightly on the head with his long switch. “Well, while we’re on the subject of talking, you know that Tiffany won’t countenance such with or by her animals? Yes, of course you do. That’s one of the first lessons you learn here, isn’t it, and I expect Tiffany can be a very effective teacher! Her mother certainly was!” he paused momentarily, looking thoughtful. “Teaching or training? Hmmm, the latter, perhaps? Anyway, back on track, re-talking or not talking. Whereas me, well, I’ve always been a bit too garrulous, Mr Talk Talk, my secretary calls me. There are times when…” he stopped and laughed, shaking his head.

“Mmmmmfff”, Kathy tried and stamped a foot in frustration.

“Quite. Stick to the point, eh? Stop the verbose dilly-dallying. Doctor Doolittle, that’s me, or so Sammy says. I talk to the animals; I can’t help myself. Always have done. It used to annoy Moira, but Tiffany is a tad more tolerant about it. Old dog and new tricks and all that! Anyway, I asked my little girl if you’d been formally introduced to the rest of the family, so to speak, which seemed to tickle her fancy, so I got the thumbs up on that one” he looked around the stable and frowned. “My wife used to have chalk name boards as well as those old brass stall numbers. I wonder why Tiffy doesn’t do that?”

The next thirty minutes or so was a depressing nightmare for Kathy as she was walked from stall to stall once or twice with the aid of that switch on her bottom if Roger thought she was a touch tardy. If she were, then it wasn’t a conscious decision on her part but more a slothful reaction to one pitiful introduction after another and the overwhelming growing depression that accompanied each meeting.  If Kathy had thought herself standing on a fragile trapdoor before, Roger’s arrival had opened it, and she was falling into a bottomless black pit. Worse, unlike a condemned criminal, no hemp ticket to oblivion was looped around her neck!

“Not a bad collection, eh?” Roger chuckled as he closed the last stall door. “Had to shell out for most of them one way or the other, but once they’re in here, they don’t cost much to run”, he chuckled. “They certainly kept my wife happy, and now young Tiffany. No use sitting on it is there when you can spend some and spread a little happiness!”.

‘Happiness!” Kathy was far too dejected even to try and mutely respond. She’d just met Bonnie and Clyde, his second wife and the big Norwegian hunk who’d cuckolded and robbed him. Supposedly both were at the bottom of the North Sea along with his private plane. Now both fellow stablemates while the aircraft had been turned into scrap and spare parts by one of his more shady acquaintances. “When you’ve made as much dosh as I have, you always meet a few, er, shall we call them useful characters of dubious moral character en route.”  he’d chucked, tapping the side of his nose before they moved on. “Mums the word about them, eh girl!”

Then there was Zebbie, the Zebra girl. Roger had terrified her at that stall as he pointed to the wretched occupant. “Tiffany is thinking of taking this all off, you know”, he’d said, giving Kathy’s matted hair a gentle tug. Still better bald than like poor Deborah in here. I mentioned her once, didn’t I? Miss fucking gold digger, that almost became my third error of judgment. No second, I can’t count the love of my life, can I? You would have been number three on that list had we tied the old knot. You can tell what gave Tiffany the idea, of course. Deborah, Zebra. Debbie, Zebbie, eh? “he’d chuckled. “Sammy always tells her she lacks imagination. Interesting skin complexion on this one as well!”

The two real horses he’d merely mentioned in passing with an airy wave of his hand. “Old Thundercloud, first occupant when Moira had the derelict building renovated. Well, kind of renovated it, for I doubt she was thinking too much about comfort for the future occupants. Maybe you saw that big picture halfway up the staircase.  Hell of a temper on this big brute at first, but she tamed him. Moira was very good at taming things. Yes, that’s the correct term. The old boy’s more or less retired now but still good for the occasional trot around the estate if I’m in the mood.

His smaller neighbour is Thumper. We got that pony as a birthday present for Tiffany when she was, well, whenever it was. Both Thumper and Tiffy were smaller back then, of course. That was when Moira decided to introduce her to all this,” he repeated that airy wave. “Be a bit hard to hide it all when she came over to give Thumper an apple, eh? Can’t say I was enthusiastic about it,” he muttered and then gave a short laugh. “But when did my opinions carry any weight up here, eh? Like mother like daughter in all things!”

He paused, thinking for a moment. “As I recall, Moira got big Jumbo over there about the same time” he paused again. “Yeah, I was in the States at the time for the pier development project.  New York, Walldorf-Astoria, probably when she called me so Tiffany could thank her daddy” He chuckled at the memory. “Mind you, Moira told me that Thumper was already coming a very poor second compared to the attention she was giving big Jumbo. As I said, like Mother like daughter, eh!”

Kathy viewed one miserable captive after another bar the two real equines who seemed perfectly happy with their lot. Hardly surprising under the circumstances, plus they were without the restrictive harness tack and mouth bit. Nor did they suffer the regular touch of whip, crop and cane as did the other stable occupants and had known no different life. Probably better fed as well, Kathy thought as she was hauled along stall by stall.

Jumbo she was familiar with, but even so, she couldn’t help herself wincing silently and cringing at the sight of his whip-scarred body from up close.  He’d stared straight back at her through big brown, oddly incurious eyes. Sad eyes that almost lacked that sparkle of life. Not so much a big puppy as a living zombie, Kathy shivered at the horrible thought and its implications.

“Pretty exotic and erotic, eh?” Roger had commentated as the tour continued waving the hand, holding the crop around the stable.

That’s not how Kathy would have described the sad and depressing sights as she followed the firm hand holding her reins. There was nothing remotely erotic about the stable or its occupants, which wasn’t just because she was one of them. How would she have reacted to this house of horror if she’d married the bastard? Would he have shown it to her, or suppose she’d wandered in here by accident? What then!

There was Doby in number six, who was so small she’d not even noticed him that first morning but then the way she’d felt along with Miss fucking Sammie twisting her head about it was hardly surprising. He was another one the brat frequently took outside for exercise and seemed a particular favourite of Tiffany’s. “Cute little feller, isn’t he?” Roger chuckled. “Of course, I blew my top when I found out about him! Talk about sailing a touch too near the wind! Threatened to close the whole damn shebang down pronto, but of course, I’m too softhearted; that’s always been my weak spot!”

A somewhat ironic statement, Kathy thought, considering that switch in his hand and the fact that he’d used it a couple of times on her backside. Admittedly nothing like as hard as his sadistic daughter would have done, but it still hurt. Nor would the in/out occupant of stall five have agreed with his softhearted nature; worse, he seemed indifferent about his callous decision.

“Young Pinky stays in this one sometimes”, Roger had said, tapping the stall door with his switch as they passed.  Another pint-sized pony, you may see her from time to time.” He’d suddenly paused, absent-mindedly jerking her to a halt. “Sorry old girl, a touch too hard on the old brakes there, what?”  He apologised and gestured to the empty stall with his crop. “Bit of a cheek, Sammie teasing young Tiffy about a lack of imagination when she called this one Pinky!”

He tapped Kathy with his crop again on the rump and shook the reins walking her back towards Bonnie's stall.  “What's that thing they say in the horse breeding world? Ah yes, out of!” he gestured his crop again. “Pinky was out of that one by her first husband. Bit of a stuck-up little brat, but I did my best as one does. Paid for a very costly Swiss school and god knows how much in expensive goodies to win her over. Ungrateful little bitch that she was! Pity though,” he sighed and added, “One does have the odd twinge of conscience!”.

He'd fallen silent, so Kathy twisted from side to side, looking around the stable until Roger shook the reins and tugged her head back as he emerged from his brief reverie. “Steady girl”, he cautioned and then continued his narrative. “Sins of the parents or parent singular in Bonnie's case. How was I to know that the snooty little brat wasn’t in Zurich when that little aviation incident occurred? Best laid plans and all that, but I suppose such unforeseen incidents are inevitable. Still, it served as a damn good lesson for Tiffany the next time she decides to make a ‘Dobby’ type decision. Think once, twice, thrice and more before you act. Funny how just a single word can alter an entire situation, affecting an innocent person's entire life. Now if I’d been a bit more specific instead of telling them to bring ‘all’ on board up here, they might have contacted me before acting.” He paused again, allowing the reins to fall slack.

“It wasn’t a holiday, so she shouldn’t have been visiting her mother at all, but I gather she missed her boyfriend and did a runner, silly girl!  Very silly. I met the moron once, and believe me, that term is a generous compliment to his intellectual capacity. Anyway, definitely, a case of the wrong place and time, so she ended up here as well, much to Tiffany’s delight. Pinky was about eighteen months older, and the two girls didn’t exactly get on” Roger chuckled again. “Another massive understatement if ever there was one!”

Kathy felt the switch rub up and down her bottom as Roger paused again, his hand moving absently, his mind elsewhere. “Anyway, I’m waffling on, aren’t I? Thinking back, I’m maybe the one who should have done the once, twice, thrice thinking, perhaps. Then again, I was pot-boiling mad at the time, and rational thinking tends to go out the window—Tiffy’s suggestion, of course, to add them to the stable. It also killed two birds with one stone for her, as big Sammie was considering quitting at the time. She’d just broken up with a lassie over in the town and was thinking of moving back to London, missing her bedmate, so she was. This wee part of the country is very puritan. Folks around here think you’ve only got to whisper the word lesbian, and you’ll burn in hell forever”.

“Long story short, Tiffany gave the lass to Sammie. I mean, why not? She had two brand new ponies, one of whom she hadn’t been over-enamoured with in the first place” he paused and chuckled. “Think yourself lucky in that we didn’t get around to tieing the knot. Things might have been a damn sight worse, well worse(ish),” he amended. I think Tiffy was a bit miffed with Sammie, though. I expect the girl thought Pinky would be stabled alongside the other two and available to her whenever she wanted, but Sammie had other ideas. Hardly surprising since she had far more intimate plans for the arrogant bitch. She keeps the little cutie in her cottage; we only see her occasionally. From time to time, Sammie brings her over and harnesses her up for a stint in the stable, much to Tifany’s delight! Pink, you will no doubt have gathered from her hair, is Sammie's favourite colour hence the pony tack and the name. Well, come on, walk on, girl. Talking of Pinky, let's meet another pony”.

Bluebell was the oldest ‘pony’ Raymond showed her. A much older woman in number ten whose body carried even more scar tissue than Jumbo's where the faded blue harness and corset didn’t hide it. Her grey eyes were not so much sad as dead as she stared back at Kathy, although it seemed she wanted to say something the way her lips twitched silently upon her mouth bit. Once upon a time, she’d probably been very tall with perhaps a figure not unlike her own, Kathy thought. Bluebell was slightly stooped with flattish sagging whip scarred breasts and a long grey/white ponytail reaching down her back almost to her waist.

“This one belongs to Sammie as well”, Roger had said offhandedly with a shrug. “Bit of a sad old mare these days but not a bad looker back in her prime, as I recall. She’s been here quite a while, making her the second oldest animal after old Thundercloud.  I don’t know much about her; well, make that sweet FA as they say, nor does Tiffany, so she’s a bit of a mystery. Moira probably knew something for Sammie produced her a few weeks after she accepted my wife’s invite to work up here but never said anything. Ex-lover, rival, enemy, who knows, for all Sammie’s ever done is grin and put a finger to her lips if you ask her. Not exactly been kind to the poor beast either over the years, has she?”

Kathy didn’t make a sound, for she was staring at the poor woman in absolute and total horror. A terrible thought had occurred to her. Was she looking at a mirror image of herself in what, ten, twenty, thirty years? ‘Been here quite a while!’

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossin' you in style some day

 “Well, that’s the grand tour done and…” Roger stopped mid-sentence and slapped his forehead. “By Jove, I’ve clean forgotten to phone Margie. You know Margie, of course, Marjorie. Yes, don’t look so blank; of course, you do. Margie is or was the secretary stroke receptionist at your agency, been there for years, I understand. Yes, that’s the one. Kindly soul, most upset to hear about your sad demise and even organised a little memorial service for you as no one else was going to do anything. Naturally, I attended.  Very sweet, I thought of her to do so, especially as I’ll bet you hardly paid her much attention. I know you didn’t; she told me so over dinner that same evening. One of the haughtier ones to quote her.” He paused to chuckle and reached for his silver cigarette case. “Haughty, eh?” he chuckled again.

“That’s where I’ve been going wrong, I realised romance-wise. I asked her out initially to see if she’d been taking too close an interest in your disappearance and presumed demise, but that quickly became secondary, even irrelevant, as one thing rapidly led to another. I’d forgotten how much fun Moira used to be between the sheets, even when we weren’t actively playing mummies and daddies. Outside of the bed as well, come to that. I don’t know where she gets them, but Margie knows more blue, and I mean blue jokes, than most comedians!  The lady is an absolute riot in bed and not the least bit demanding on a chap” he paused to extract a black cigarette from his silver case and light it. “Even more fun outside of the bedroom!”

“That’s where I’ve been going wrong, old girl. I paid way too much to what Tiffy called eye candy the other day. I mean, well, you know Margie, so I needn’t elaborate. An oversized ugly dumpling on short fat legs, that’s what she calls herself and hardly front-of-house material for a top model agency. A bit like a hair saloon having a bald receptionist, what? But dammed efficient. Oh, my, she is that. From day one, she became interested in my business and got a darned good head on her shoulders. Anyway, long story short, that ring Tiffy reacquired from you isn’t going to waste you’ll be pleased to know. Took you long enough choosing the bloody thing, as I recall. Of course, Margie says it’s way too over the top for her simple tastes. She’s going to have them alter it, remove all the stones bar that that small emerald, she rather likes that one.” he smiled and then became serious as Kathy made a succession of incomprehensible noises into her mouth bit.

“Anyway, I don’t suppose you will meet her again despite Tiffany taking a shine to her, and they get on so well together. Have done since I introduced them at a friend’s wedding the other week. Bit of a whirlwind romance yet again, but that’s how I am. Tiffany even insisted on being maid of honour when we tie the knot. Put her foot down and refused to allow us a simple civil ceremony at the registry office and is making me do it in style with all the usual trimmings at a big county house and restaurant complex. Going to cost a small fortune, but we both think it’s kind of cute humouring her.  Anyway, meeting-wise, it’s a no-brainer, as they say.  Tiff and I decided it best if Margie stays down south” he paused and chuckled, waving his cigarette around.

“Somehow, I don’t think a kindly body like her would approve of all this, eh? I mean, she’s not the least bit prudish in or out of the bedsheets, quite the opposite, but some things are perhaps best kept secret. If I hadn’t found the sight of my first wife with that whip in her hand so damn erotic, well,” he laughed. “Maybe a completely different story, especially for you and young Tiffany? Anyway, Margie knows about the estate and house, of course, but I told her it’s on a long, a very long term let to an old business acquaintance who values his privacy. Tiffany hates London and has a job up here keeping an eye on the estate for me, plus doing her studying and has her own little apartment in the house, so that’s all settled and everybody happy.  A little white lie or two never hurts?” he chuckled and looked at his watch.

“I’d better go make that call before I get into trouble”, he laughed with a wink and rubbed his hands together excitedly.  “Funny old world, isn’t it? Here is me with three fine-looking fillies still available for the taking, yet when it comes to a bit of good old-fashioned normal rumpy-pumpy between the sheets, dumpy Marjorie beats the lot of you! Not that I’m averse to a bit of abnormal fun occasionally these days,” he added with a chuckle glancing down towards Clyde’s stall. Well, better be off, left the damn phone on the sofa again”.

He walked to the doors, and after a second, Kathy moved to the front of her stall, her eyes following him. Her mouth worked on the bit, but nothing emerged, not even muted. Somehow this latest revelation had stunned her more than anything, and she didn’t know why. She knew that her fate was signed, sealed and delivered. A mental image of Bluebell suddenly loomed large in her mind, and her body shook.

Roger halted abruptly in the doorway as if a thought had occurred to him and turned back, theatrically tapping his head. “Oh, I just remembered something else. I was telling Tiffany over lunch how excited Marjorie is over it all. I mean, getting spliced at her time of life. Her only regret is that she’s way too old to start a family, even to adopt” he grinned and chuckled wickedly. I know the feeling; Tiffany was a late, if very welcome, arrival in my life, but sadly she’s no interest whatsoever in my business interests. Pity, but on the flip side, my excellent, if grossly expensive, physician seems to think these ageing bones may stay the distance and make ancient bones!” He paused and patted his stomach, chuckling.

“I’ve teased Tiffany a few times recently, grandaddy wise and rightly been ticked off by Margie. She’s right, plenty of time for that if the girls so inclined,  but” he paused again and laughed. Anyway, long story short, my little girl might have an alternative solution.” He smiled and took another long drag on his cigarette before continuing. “I’m sure the legal formalities of adopting can be surmounted. One’s generosity had been much appreciated over the years, and I’m sure there are plenty of local projects stalled for lack of investment,” he winked.

 “I expect it will mean spending a fair bit here and there and some of it under the counter, no doubt, but then what’s new there in terms of breaking the rules” he waved a hand towards the stalls.  “Plenty of clinics and specialists are prepared to turn a blind eye when necessary with the right fiscal encouragement.  Maybe time to bring the vet in and look you over, as Tiffany suggested.  Well, she’s not really a vet, a pal of Sammie’s and a trained nurse, but they call her that,” he chuckled and added.

“Kind of fits the situation, what? She pops up and checks over the livestock several times a year, and as Tiffany said, you are or were almost family, eh?  A lot to think about, and it takes two to tango, of course” he stopped and looked across the stable to big Jumbo’s stall. “Bloodline is important, but then with the right upbringing, background and education?” he mused and then shook himself. “Well, as I said, lots to think about, old girl and all the time in the world to do so!” he finished with a casual wave as he departed, whistling a tune that had become very familiar to her.

Kathy stood rooted, staring at the half-open door, her bridle hiding the expression of shocked horror on her pretty face. He couldn’t be serious. No way! Roger, she’d discovered, did have a somewhat quirky sense of humour plus a habit of tossing out some outrageous titbit for his audience to nibble on. But this, no, no one could be that…her brain failed her as she turned and stared wide-eyed at the brick wall at the end of her simple stall. She was still staring fixedly and unseeing at it a few minutes later when the sound of the door catch behind her snapped her out of that momentary stupor.

Tiffany stood in the opening, hands-on ripped jean-clad hips, an unbuttoned knotted tartan shirt exposing her smooth flat belly and the obligatory quirt tucked into her belt. The girl regarded her thoughtfully and then nodded as though she’d decided something. She swung around, clicked the door closed behind her and headed down the stable. A minute later, that familiar hated tune began to play through the stables speakers, and every captive human equine trembled.

Kathy had never heard of the expression, ‘For whom does the bell toll, it tolls for thee!’ but if she had, then at that moment, she would have fully understood its meaning. You couldn’t hear it, but you could sense it, that invisible, inaudible sigh of relief from every stall bar Kathy’s as Tiffany returned and resumed her previous pose.

“Did you think I’d forget this morning’s inquisitive naughtiness, Pepper?  Tiffany said softly. “Very foolish if you did, but don’t worry. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I’ve no intention of killing the Kathy!”

“I certainly hope not”, Roger was back in the doorway, “I just…” he broke off as the sound of a helicopter reached their ears growing louder. “Ah, my personal aerial Uber, I believe. Don’t rush yourself, darling. Plenty of time before you need to come and give the old man a goodbye kiss. I expect Mrs Mcreadie will insist on giving the pilot a mug of something hot when he collects my bags; you know how she is”.

Tiffany was eyeing him curiously, “So?”

Roger pointed to the empty stall opposite. “Meant to mention something last night to you and Sammie, but clean forgot what with all the other interesting chat and stuff the pair of you were discussing regarding you know who”, he gestured towards Kathy. “Went right out of my mind till today’s little tour. Moira never did get to fill this place completely. That was one of your mother's ambitions, you know?”

Tiffany nodded. “Yes, she told me that once” she looked at the empty stall and then back to her father. “Why, what’s on your mind” she inquired suspiciously.

Roger chuckled. “Oh, I shan’t be abandoning you completely. Margie isn’t going to give up her cultural weekends away with the ‘girls’ from her bridge club or her ocean cruises. I’ve no objection to dressing for dinner occasionally for the odd social function, but doing it every night for a fortnight while shut up in big steel box with a lot of boring people holds no appeal whatsoever. There’ll still be plenty of opportunities when I’m free to indulge myself here”.

“So?” Tiffany repeated.

He laughed, adding, “ I can always keep my fingers crossed behind my back when Margie and I tie the knot, and I haven’t lost my roving eye, Honey. It spotted a delightful new prospect in the office only the other week. Sweet of face, short on leg and with the cutest bubble butt you ever did see. Looks like an innocent little angel and certainly got my old todger downstairs twitching in an upward direction!”

“No doubt big of bosom, false of eyelashes, tight of leggings, fake of tan and short of skirt plus a pouty set of puffed-up lips, I expect!”

“Far from it, my dear!” Roger laughed, walking towards the stall, waving one finger in dismissive circles.  “Everything was au naturel. This cutie wore trousers, a tie, a silly little moustache, plus his designer stubble. I think buggering old Clyde down there has given me a whole new outlook! An adorable young pint-sized colt for the family collection, perhaps. Room for a little one, say over there opposite Pepper here. A seasonal present to myself, minus that ridiculous little moustache, of course, and you’ll have all the fun of breaking and training it!”

He reached out and squeezed Kathy’s left breast. “Fairs fair, after all, you wanted this disloyal slut for your eighteenth, so maybe Christmas I get to treat myself! Margie fancies an Xmas cruise to Santa Claus land with an old school friend to see the Northern Lights, so I’ll be free to indulge myself.  Who knows, yet another candidate for breakfast at Tiffany’s, eh!” he chuckled. “Not just breakfast either. Dinner, supper and accommodation thrown in as well.  Full board no less!” he gestured towards the crop in his daughter’s belt, “with all those entertaining extra trimmings! Maybe I’ll call him Rudolph, but I doubt that it will be his nose glowing red throughout the festive season, eh?” he laughed.

Kathy watched him exit the stall quietly, singing to himself in tune with the music still playing on its endless loop.

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style some day

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way