The Interview

Chapter 17

“Delicious, you were right about that bakery” I brushed more brown flakes off my front. “Those croissants did melt in the mouth. I’ve made a bit of a mess crumb wise I’m afraid. I seem to have missed the plate with a few fragments,” I added, eyeing the table.

“More than a few by the look of it but don’t worry, that’s what Jimmy is for”, she paused and laughed, “well, among other things and talking of other things! Come on”, she pointed to the open French windows. “It looks as though Patty has decided she’s not bothered by what you might see, so come and say hello to young Chloé and give Blooper a pat or two while you’re at it!”

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, a real cloth one, not a paper one, and I followed suit, pulling it out of what must have been a polished silver ring. I could guess who was responsible for buffing it to that gleaming finish!

My host walked to the door and called, “We’ve finished, Maria. You can start clearing away now, dear and thank you” then she turned and beckoned me to follow her into the walled garden while behind me, I heard that clinking chain again. I didn’t look back because my host had grabbed my arm again and was pointing out different coloured roses and other colourful flowers to me. I was only half listening, my primary focus through the old open wooden door to the figures beyond.

“That’s Blooper in front!” she told me. “The would-be burglar I mentioned earlier. Harnessed Unicorn fashion, that’s what they call a threesome like that”.

Patty turned as our feet scrunched on the gravel path to give us both a lovely smile before resuming her conversation with the smaller and younger girl. An exceptionally pretty little thing I noted, wondering how old she was. Although she had a visibly developed adult figure, her height and petite stature, along with her innocent young face, made her look like an adolescent. A pert junior miss dressed ready for the local gymkhana in boots, tight purple riding breeches and a matching tight clingy long-sleeved top. She even had a proper riding hat perched on her head, with tendrils of blonde hair escaping in various places.

“Good morning, Chloé,” my host said. “You’re looking very chic this morning, I must say!”

“Merci Madam, non”, the girl went wide-eyed and put the handle of her riding crop to her lips, looking even more childlike for her moment of consternation. “Non, I must say thank you, yes. I must improve better my English?”

Patty and my host laughed, saying, “Don’t be a silly girl. We both know what you mean, and it’s not mandatory for you to always speak English. We are in your country, after all!”

The girl giggled, looking and sounding more childlike than ever, although I’d realised on closer observation that she must be in her late teens, maybe even early twenties. She flashed that lovely mischievous smile again, but as her eyes switched to me, they instantly lost some of that sparkle. It wasn’t a hostile look but wary and curious. Her eyes flickered back to Patty, who seemed indifferent, so she switched her attention to the three nearby ponies; her pretty face became serious again.

Patty started to speak in French and then almost immediately switched to English, making me wonder if that was for my benefit or Chloe’s. Probably the latter as she spoke slowly, emphasising some of her words. “Don’t be a silly girl. Three is no different to two, and how many times have you done that? Blooper won’t trouble you, as you know, and the other two need the exercise before their owner comes down. She’ll want to give them a good run out to see how they are coming along, yes, they are still a bit too frisky, but that’s your job to curb that tendency. Didn’t I overhear a certain little Miss complaining about how docile and boring some of the ponies she handled were yesterday?”

“Oui”, Chloé muttered sheepishly, hanging her head but not without flicking another mischievous grin sideways to the two of us watching.

Patty laughed, reaching out with her palm and raising the girl’s chin, then gently tapping her lips with one finger. “Well, now you can stop sucking on that crop and put it to better use which we both know was precisely what you wanted to do in the first place. You don’t fool me, Missy! Now get up on that seat, and let’s rediscover that natural self-confidence. Heavens, I know Chocolate Drop and Candy Bar can be troublesome. All new ponies are like that, but we both know they aren’t exactly able to do much, are they? Please give them a good run out to curb that silliness and swap your crop for that carriage whip. Bring me back a couple of obedient, exhausted zebras!” she finished with a nasty chuckle.

“Blows a bit hot and cold that one”, my host whispered in my ear. “One moment she’s brimming with confidence and self-assurance and next quite the retiring little mouse, well maybe not quite that bad. Patty says she’s a natural though when it comes to handling ponies and so keen” she paused and then added a dubious tone. “Not sure that bit about the zebras was a good idea, not with young Chloe’, always far too keen to make her mark given a free hand if you get my meaning!”

I nodded. Having also been looking at the three ponies, I knew exactly what she meant, particularly the male called Blooper. Someone or probably more than one person had marked him good and proper over a prolonged period! He was the leading pony, and behind him, the two female ponies harnessed side by side, one white and one black. 

Chloé climbed up into the driving seat of the four-wheeled carriage. Despite its bulky appearance, it was obviously light by how it swayed and bounced on its primitive suspension as she swung onto the seat, and she was no heavyweight! She settled herself shuffling her bottom on the cushioned seat, then reached for the looped reins and swapped her crop for a long carriage whip.

“Wait a second”, Patty called to her and, at the same time, beckoned to me. “Might as well have a decko at the animals while you’re here. Did I hear someone mention my silly Blooper?”

“Our guest asked about unauthorised visitors earlier, so this foolish animal’s name came up. How long is it now, three years?”

Patty laughed and grabbed the bridle around the man’s head. “No, more like four, I think. Picked the wrong house to try your luck, didn’t you, pony” Patty twisted the bridle dragging the man’s head down and shook it as she beckoned to me to come closer. “Might have been better off trying to rob the Bastille had it still existed rather than me!”

I approached cautiously even as she twisted her grip tighter, the grin on her face fading as she spoke. “A few months in their dungeon cells would have been way better than a lifetime in one of my stalls, eh foolish pony?”

I moved within a few feet of the man, for that is what he was despite his assigned role. Obviously, my hosts saw him differently because of how they treated him, but in my eyes, he was still a man. Albeit a naked man in a fancy-dress costume, no, not that, more like one of those thoughtfully crafted outfits you see pictures of people wearing at those comic conferences. His whole appearance had that attention to detail.

Only this ponyboy was no captive superhero in the hands of a scantily clad supervillainess. My mind took a one-second time out to query that term's correctness before I dismissed it as unimportant. Anyway, young Chloé sitting up high on that seat, whip in hand and dressed in her riding outfit, didn’t need a leather catsuit suit and a pair of tiny ears to look as sexy as hell, did she? 

“Come on, don’t be shy”, Patty’s voice cut across my train of thought. “Come and give them a few friendly pats. I can guarantee they won’t object!” she finished with a laugh tapping Blooper on his prominent nose that protruded between two facial straps.

I inched a little closer to the mute trio, acutely aware that my feelings were decidedly mixed at that point. On the one hand, I was experiencing a strange sense of, well, almost elation which felt a little odd, likewise a certain sexual stimulus. Hell, more than that. I’d been growing randier by the minute from the moment I clapped eyes on Gunner doing his stuff under the threat of Betty’s whip! 

That sense of guilt and unease was still there, but I’d subconsciously engaged reverse gear on that one, and its prominence rapidly disappeared backwards. I should have felt uncomfortable about that, but I didn’t! Maybe I should have questioned that lack of morality, but my hand was more interested in exploring captive pony flesh. Nor did I feel the least bit guilty about that either!

Strange, but perhaps not. I’d once accompanied a friend who was a registered prison visitor—visiting inmates who never received visitors. She’d suggested I might try it, so I had on that occasion, although I’d left most of the talking to her. I’d decided quickly that it wasn’t my thing, but the visit and the process had been interesting. 

A meeting of two completely different worlds was how I’d tried to describe my feelings afterwards. We sat in a little booth on one side of a glass screen with holes in it and the male inmate on the other. After twenty minutes, we’d say goodbye and return to our world, free to do whatever we wanted, whereas that man would shuffle through the steel door and into the room behind him to do precisely what he was told when he was told and for as long as he was told to do it! That thought returned to me as I looked at those captive human ponies. 

There were differences, of course. I vividly remembered the polite uniformed wader who’d escorted the prisoner and stood patiently at the far side of the room while they conversed. His attitude had been both discreetly professional and somehow sympathetic to his charge at the same time. In contrast, I discerned not the slightest hint of sympathy in the young girl eagerly fingering reins and whip. 

My eyes ranged over them as my hand tentatively reached towards Blooper. Not exactly a matched set, I thought. One male and two female ponies, the latter both different. Blooper was stocky medium height and probably in his mid-twenties, and very hairy. Short, wiry dark curls sprouted everywhere that wasn’t covered by his harness and straps. A straggly beard overflowed his high collar, and the shaven parts of his head on either side of his spiky red-dyed Mohican were already dark with stubbly growth. 

“Typical swarthy local, that one”, My hoist observed. “High maintenance with all that horrible growth, and despite what you read in fiction, no one has yet perfected anything bar a razor for keeping that shrubbery down!”

I don’t know what I had expected, but I did experience both a moment of excitement and disappointment as I gently touched his left thigh with a couple of fingers. He didn’t even flinch at my tentative touch, so I pressed my palm down and gently stroked up and down the warm skin. I saw his eyes flicker momentarily towards me, but as they caught mine immediately looked away, adding to that intense feeling of erotic stimulation I was experiencing. Helpless and terrified of my merest touch!

Somehow I’d expected a more significant reaction from him, but then, as I surveyed him in greater detail, that wasn’t surprising. Restrained and harnessed as he was and held by that head bridle in Patty’s firm grip and secured to that carriage, his options were limited. Nor, I presumed, looking at his bottom, the one area of his body relatively free of hairy growth, did he possess the courage or the desire to do anything other than stand obediently before me. 

His backside was a mass of old scars and fresher bruises, with barely an inch of unsullied, unmarred skin. A couple of fresh marks were already turning purple and oozing specks of blood, and from the shape, I glanced at the riding crop Chloé had stored in the carriages whip holder and knew what and who had added the most recent painful-looking damage. The rest, I glanced at Patty holding his bridle in her hand and knew the answer to that one as well.

Blooper was dressed or clad like Gunner, whom I’d viewed earlier. Undressed, perhaps a more appropriate term, only Gunner’s outfit must have been new or almost new compared to the faded, well-worn, leather Blooper sported. Originally it must have been a colourful bright sunflower yellow. I could tell from where it remained pristine and unfaded under the buckles. Four years Patty had said, and I guessed most of it had never been removed in that time.

Contrasts, I thought, glancing over to the two ponygirls harnessed together immediately behind Blooper. Their movements caught my eye, disturbing my contemplative inspection of their male companion. Both were restlessly shuffling their feet and twisting back and forth as though testing the restraints that bound them to the carriage. They didn’t appear to have much leeway, but they tried anyway, being a noticeable contrast to the statue like Blooper.  Likewise, his scuffed and faded harness with gleaming white leather restraining glossy ebony skin and identical but black leather squeezing pale white skin.

Chloé was obviously of a similar mind, for even as I turned to view them, she raised her arm, and that whip flicked out twice, once to the right and then to the left, nor was her target their naked rumps beyond my line of sight. If the young girl had a confidence problem, it didn’t extend to her skill with that whip. I saw it flick around their torsos and leave livid red marks. One on the right-hand pony’s right breast and performing a mirror image action on the other pony. 

The girl angrily shouted something in French that I didn’t catch. I did hear the muttered “Fuck!” that immediately followed and then “Stand quiet, quiet, non! Be still, still you bad animals!” The whip flicked out again as she spoke, only to snap with a loud crack over their heads that startled me more than the three ponies.

“One less fly to worry about!” Patty laughed and then laughed again, presumably at the expression on my face. “Only kidding, although I’ve probably swatted a few off sweaty rumps in my time! Go on, help yourself, Blooper won’t bite. No need to be shy, so feel free. I still remember how I felt when Auntie first invited me to grab a handful of helpless ponygirl!”

Blooper was still obediently staring straight ahead as I resumed my previous position, having inadvertently jumped backwards at the sound of that whip crack. I wondered if he understood English and could follow the conversation. Probably not, for he was local, wasn’t he and showing no reaction whatsoever? Either that, or he’d been exceptionally well trained, and there was enough visible evidence of that! Unlike the two girls, I noted who had ceased that restless movement but were looking in my direction, both staring fixedly at me. I’m not the most imaginative or intuitive person in the world, but I could easily read the message in those wild, desperate eyes. Both pairs were saying ‘HELP, HELP US’, and that joint look was so intense that they were visually shouting it aloud!

My eyes were still on them when my right hand grasped a handful of Blooper’s left buttock. The action was almost automatic in obeying Patty’s suggestion, but I instantly realised what she meant. I felt him cringe at my touch, yet he was so helpless and unwilling that I could sense it, but there was not a thing he could do about it. A strange feeling hit me, empowering and emboldening me yet also carrying with it a strong sense of the erotic!

There was a loud giggle from beside me which I knew was Patty. My eyes had been firmly fixed on Blooper as my hand enlarged its hold on the man’s buttock cheek, adding more flesh and greater pressure. Blooper showed not the slightest response save for a tremor barely detectable. He remained ridged and staring straight ahead even as I released him and began running my palm over his whip-scarred bottom.

“Bit of a disappointment that one”, my host observed. “Weak, Patty broke him in a week or thereabouts. No guts whatsoever, that one,” she snorted contemptuously.

“Oh, be fair, Auntie. Poor old Blooper had been institutionalised all his life. Catholic orphanages, special schools, various young offender's penal institutes, and adult prisons. His whole life had been directed by someone else in authority. I was merely the latest in a long line and probably not much worse than some of those nuns and their canes when he was a kid. I’ve heard a few stories about that ruin on the edge of town, none of them pleasant! It wouldn’t surprise me if they started digging up the grounds around there one of these days!”

“All his life?” Given what my fingers could feel as I ran them over his buttocks, I doubted that those nuns were ever as savage as the young woman standing next to me must have been. Nor would the uniforms provided in those institutions have been as scant and uncomfortable as his present garb. I took a step backwards, noting my reluctance to release my hold on his abused, helpless flesh. Patty had been right, for there was indeed something compelling about that first touch. I looked towards the two female ponies and then enquiringly towards Patty, who promptly laughed.

“Go on, dig in, help yourself. Might as well while they are here. A couple of near-fresh ones. Chloé won’t mind waiting, will you, Honey?”

“Pas du tout”, The young girl replied with a giggle and a shake of her head, then instinctively put her hand to her mouth again. “Ooops!” 

Patty laughed. “Not at all”, she translated, although I’d guessed what the girl meant. “Go grab a few more handfuls, it won’t do those two animals any harm, and it’ll be good for them to be handled by a fresh face for a change. They may as well get used to it. Two fine, firm-bodied young fillies like that will get mauled frequently in the next few years. We pony owners are a vain lot and like to show our best animals off to other aficionados. Petting is very much allowed! I know their owner will be no different. Go on, I expect they won’t be looking quite at their best when Chloé brings them back, and certain tempting spots will be a good deal tender!” she laughed. “Sweet little Chloé sitting up there has a thing about pony udders!”

“A touch of the green-eyed monster, perhaps”, my host chuckled in my ear. “Trim little figure but not as much up top as I suspect she’d like, eh?”

I won’t say my fingers were itching, but that expression did absently cross my mind. Patty hadn’t even finished speaking when my hands, plural, each closed around a pert young upthrust breast. Firm and yet soft at the same time nor was that recent whip weal of Chloès the only one I noted marring the delicious quivering flesh under my palms. I looked up and straight into a pair of desperately beseeching pretty blue eyes with long lashes imploring me to do something.

 A memory flashed into my mind, the time my parents had taken me to the zoo's children’s ‘petting’ area. I’d long forgotten which zoo or any of the details other than that petting session. I was reminded vividly of that now, the bored, listless yet helpless animals enduring all those eager sticky little hands—no escape, no enjoyment and no one seeming to care. Even at a very young age, I’d felt rather guilty about it and, somewhat to my parent’s amusement, had refused to continue down the pens of available animals. Thinking back, I suspect from their indulgent laughter, they’d possibly assumed I was frightened of the lambs, baby goats and other creatures available.  

It was rather odd I thought as I looked into those watery blue eyes that I felt not the slightest twinge of emotion. No, not entirely true. I did feel something, but it was a selfish feeling and not one of sympathy for the girl's anguished plight. That slight prick of guilt was vainly endeavouring to trouble my conscience again, but its point was even blunter now than when I’d first run my eyes over the tormented figure of Gunner barely an hour ago. 

It was even amusing in a terrible sense to see that initial light of hope die in those pretty eyes as they looked so beseechingly into mine. The dawning realisation that this newcomer was neither concerned with her plight nor likely to alter it. That yours truly was not going to change her situation one jot, and I thought about that look later that night. I concluded that the occupants of Patty’s terrible stable would invariably clutch at the slenderest of straws whenever one was presented to them. I know I would have done so in their place. 

Thankfully I wasn’t, but I was in a unique position to indulge my professional curiosity and, perhaps more significantly, my growing personal fascination and curiosity. Imagine walking up to an attractive, healthy young woman in the street and doing what I was doing to her now with both hands. There was nothing she could do to prevent me nor any authority to intervene, and if she somehow tried, well? A sideways glance up at the expression on the eager young face of authority loosely holding her reins, and I knew, as did the pony, that the whip wouldn’t hesitate to punish such impudence. 

My eager hands sampled thighs, breasts and buttocks as I moved from one side to the other. Professional curiosity, I blatantly lied to my conscience. Whoever owned these two girls, or perhaps I should think fillies, had a good eye. They were almost identical in height and figure, even breast size and shape. Hell, those tempting quivering lumps of firm, soft flesh were irresistible and how they flinched so delightfully as my fingertips traced along young Chloés recent handiwork.  

‘Sweet little Chloé, ’ Patty had said a moment ago. Looking up at that anticipatory expression on the young miss’s face, I doubted that the three helpless human equines in her charge would have termed her very ‘sweet!’ It was evident they’d already felt that whip she was holding, and their miserable day had hardly started.

I shook my head and took a few steps backwards, the better to view the erotic scene, for that’s what it was  I realised with a sense of wicked pleasure and, simultaneously, experienced that void where my conscience should have been. Viewing the sight in front of me, I knew that any moral integrity and scruples I might have had would be AWOL for the duration of my visit and probably long after I’d returned home. Even worse, I didn’t appear overly bothered about that fact. 

For a second or two, I experienced one of those weird ‘out of body’ sensations, not singular. It was as though I’d taken another pace backwards, and now there were two of me standing in front. One focused entirely on the erotic spectacle of the three near-naked, helpless, harnessed ponies and their cute but forbidding young driver. The other turned about, looking at his twin image as though baffled by its fascination with that evil, illegal, cruel scene. Very uncanny, and I automatically closed my eyes and shook myself to regain control of my senses. I even hesitated for a brief second before I opened my eyes, wondering if the same sight would still be there. Silly, I know, but that’s how it happened.

“Are you all right?”

It was my host shaking my arm and looking a little concerned. Patty, I noticed, was also looking at me rather curiously, although lacking the concern on her aunt’s face.

“I’m fine, perfectly okay, thanks”, I smiled reassuringly. “My mind was just elsewhere for a moment. No big deal!”.

She nodded thoughtfully, still looking concerned. “I thought for a moment you were about to faint or something. Shock, perhaps,” she offered and gestured to the ponies. “It’s a lot to take in. I hadn’t expected…” she trailed off, flashing a reproachful look at Patty, who promptly threw a quizzical look at me.

“No” I shook my head emphatically to reassure both and smiled. “No, not shock, more” I paused to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to find myself barred from anything. My eyes flickered briefly towards the three ponies and then back to my hosts. “Fasc-in-ation, absolute fascination!” I said slowly and then repeated myself and nodded towards the carriage. “The sight of those three and all so helpless and young Chloé sitting up there looking so innocent and yet totally in control!” I finished a tad lamely.

The girl’s understanding of English was evidently better than her spoken ability, for she’d been watching me curiously and immediately responded with a delightful girlish laugh as though I’d made a huge joke. Maybe it was my use of the word, innocent!

I grinned. “Ladies, I think I’m acclimatising to your unique facilities rather well. Anyway, it’s not as if I wasn’t mentally prepared either!” I nodded towards my long-time interviewee. 

Patty laughed and motioned with her hand. Even as I turned, I heard that whip crack and a male pony’s muted squeal. The carriage had already started to move as the three human equines collectively bent forwards as one and strained to pull the unusual conveyance. Chloé was an equal opportunities driver, for her arm moved smoothly twice more, catching the two fillies, one right buttock cheek and one left. Then as the carriage accelerated shakily away, the whip cracked twice more as she skilfully snapped it in the air over her team, and a girlish whoop of delight reached my ears. 

“When is Miss, er, when is their owner coming to see them?” my host asked, waiving a finger at the rapidly disappearing rolling carriage as another three whip cracks sounded, and I doubted that they were against empty air. My host sounded somewhat doubtful, and I realised that she’d just stopped herself from mentioning a name. Interesting!

Patty chuckled, “Not for another month, at least. She’s only partway through a global concert tour. Don’t worry yourself, aunty. I’ll keep an eye on Chloé and, despite her enthusiasm, ensure they still look pristine when she comes to see them. Plenty of time for their hides to recover!”  Patty paused as I caught her eye. “Well, in the sort of condition she might expect after a couple of months of training”, she laughed and winked at me. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” the question was directed at her aunt, even though she glanced in my direction.

“Oh, I think we’ll wander back down to my humble little abode and carry on with our latest chat session” she flashed a mischievous glance at me. “Don’t want to get our guest here too excited, do we!”

Patty laughed. “Lunch? No, okay, but come back for supper, usual time but nothing too fancy. Our cuisine here is very much along Anglo-Saxon lines, much to Maria’s disappointment. However, she occasionally manages to slip something more continental in now and then”  Patty chuckled and headed back towards the house. I heard her call “Jimmy dear” as she opened the door, and then a hand took my arm and steered me back down the shallow rise towards the cottage.

*****

.

“So, what shall we talk about first?” she asked, sitting back in her big chair, her hands modestly clasped on her lap. “I assume from your attitude and relaxed body language that you still aren’t intending to rush off down the road and bother the local gendarmes regarding what you have seen here?” Her tone was light, but her eyes were staring intently at me.

I shook my head. That look she was giving me was a little disturbing. I wondered what she would do or say if I answered in the affirmative or demanded to leave immediately. The fact that I was visiting wasn’t entirely unknown, even if I hadn’t known the precise final location. A very incriminating bundle of papers was residing in a safe place, plus a duplicate set equally secure. The prospect of my brief visit becoming an unwanted extended stay had been uppermost in my mind, and I’d taken precautions. 

I repeated the negative gesture. “Nope. Anyway, I wouldn’t have a clue where to go, and I’m on foot,”  I pointed out and grinned. “Unless I persuaded young Chloé to give me a lift through the local countryside. Probably not a good idea, though,” I finished.

“Tch. There are a few peasants around here who probably wouldn't bat so much as an eyelid, nor one or two of those living nearer to town. You seem to have taken everything very calmly. I must confess I hadn’t expected Patty to be quite so open. I thought the girl would have been a little more…what's the word I’m looking for?”

“Discrete”, I offered.

Hmmm, “Circumspect, I think, covers the situation better. That indicates a greater level of prudent wariness, perhaps. I’d have expected a more cagey, reticent approach from the girl, so I must confess I was a little surprised at her openness! What’s up?”

I gave her a wary look. “Does that mean I should start getting a little, or perhaps a lot, worried return ticket-wise?” I wasn’t entirely joking as I asked the question, either.

She laughed. “No, relax and don’t be silly. I don’t think Patty has any immediate plans to add to her stable. One or two in the pipeline but nothing is imminent!

I smiled. “Well, I can assure you I’ve never met your great niece until yesterday. Maybe I passed some type of test on the drive over from the airport, although I don’t recall being given the third-degree treatment verbally,” I chuckled. “If so, she was very subtle and charming about it!”

That remark produced something of an amused, contemptuous snort. “That girl, subtle! Go ask some of the ponies she’s trained if they think she’s subtle. Go ask young Jimmy!” she waved a hand in the direction of the house. “Not that the animals could give you an answer or would be allowed to, and poor Jimmy would be far too terrified, I expect, for speaking out of turn!”

I held up my hands, for she seemed slightly agitated. “Okay, okay” I took a deep breath. “Look, if it’s bothering you, let me reassure you now. When I accepted this assignment, as I’ve told you at least once before, I agreed verbally and in writing to be discrete, ultra-discrete about anything I heard or saw. I’ll admit the last two days have been a bit of an eye-opener, but I’m still bound by that agreement” I paused, “besides, there’s something else in the melting pot now!”

She looked at me questioningly and motioned me to continue.

I shrugged and smiled. “I said it back at the house. Fascination. How to put it?” I thought for a moment thinking of Betty and Gunner, Maria and Jimmy, Patty, Chloé and the three ponies harnessed to the carriage. Ponies, I was even starting to think like them now, wasn’t I? I sat back in the chair.

“Maybe,” I said slowly, “I think I’ve been corrupted like an addict or an addict to be a few seconds after taking their first fix.” I nodded. “Maybe that’s the wrong simile, but it seems I have an appetite for more. I feel as though I’ve peaked through a crack in a door and now want to throw the door wide open and see the whole picture” I shrugged. “Sounds kind of silly, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head slowly and smiled at me. “Not in the least. Perhaps I was being a little unfair to my niece. She does have a sort of feeling for people that I lack. I used to tie myself in knots trying to find suitable staff, whereas Patty seems to know and assess by instinct! Strange, is it not?”

I smiled. “I doubt that I’m qualified to comment. Do you have a high turnover, staff-wise?”

She shook her head. “No, far from it. Usually, the exact opposite. There’s a fair chance young Chloé out there will be exercising a few ponies twenty years from now and, if not here, at some other stable or similar establishment. Once in, people tend to stay in!”

I chuckled. “Kind of a vocational occupation!” 

“Quite”, she replied a touch tartly. “Chloé came in from outside, which isn’t all that common. Her predecessor, Tanya, accepted an employment offer from a breeder in the Middle East. Lovely girl but a little too fond of the whip for my taste” She laughed. “Young Chloé is going the same way fast, and she’s hardly wetted her toes, let alone her feet, in this particular pond!”.

I blinked. “You could have fooled me.”

“Oh, Patty will keep an eye on her. You must remember that we deal with very valuable animals, after all. There may be a…” she paused and shrugged. “a large surplus in the wild, but as with any species, finding prime specimens, separating wheat and chaff is not always easy! Given that the hunter, so to speak, must be exceeding careful when selecting suitable prey!” she paused again and laughed. “Oh my, that sounds so damn dramatic, doesn’t it!”

I smiled. “I get the gist. So you’re saying that there is a merry-go-round job-wise within this…this sphere of activity?

She nodded. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not a revolving door situation by any means, but word soon goes around when an interesting position is available. It’s also very family oriented.”

“Family orientated!” that surprised me.

“Naturally”. Now it was her turn to look surprised. “I’d have thought that was self-evident. You don’t imagine that Patty and I are unique”, she paused and considered. “Well, in one sense, I suppose we differ from others who are similar”. Patty grew up in a more, shall we say, more conventional household and wasn’t introduced to my stable and its occupants until her mid-teens. In contrast, Tanya, who I mentioned earlier, lived up to her name from a very early age! ”.

The puzzled expression on my face made her giggle, and I was tempted not to ask, but I bit the bullet and did anyway.  “How so?”

She laughed. “Why tanning pony rumps, of course. Sorry, bad pun, but I couldn’t resist it,” she winked mischievously. “Tanya grew up with ponyboys. Her father owned a stable full of them, so she got to cut her teeth or crack a whip from a very early age. Yes, you have a question?”

I nodded. “Partly, perhaps more an observation with a question mark tagged on the end. I may be quite wrong, but I’m getting the impression that there is a certain degree of same sexing, if I can put it like that, among pony owners and trainers. You once said something about favouring female ponies and your friend Celine similar.  You mentioned that those two fillies pulling Chloé’s carriage belonged to another woman. Now you say Tanya’s father owned ponyboys?”

“Did I say that?” she frowned and then shrugged. “Well, maybe I did, I can’t remember, but I don’t think I’ve ever favoured one over the other. Not intentionally!”

“Possibly that’s me, my memory is not infallible, and one of the things I had to agree to was no writing notes or using recording equipment”.

“Mmmm”, she screwed her face up and then shrugged. “My stable has always been or was always more fifty-fifty animal sex-wise, but it could vary, of course, depending on stock levels and liveries, etc.” she paused and chuckled. “You might say I’m an equal opportunities employer, not that there was much equality between my animals and me. None at all, in fact! As for favouring one sex over the other, it's only natural that some owners do, but doesn’t every collector tend to specialise?”

“Collector?”

“Postage stamps, rare coins, human equines!” she laughed and was about to say something but paused as the sound of approaching steel-shod boots sounded louder through the open window, and I turned to look out. A moment later, the carriage flashed past, going at a fair speed, and I both saw and heard Chloé using her whip on the ponies. Even as the sound faded, I heard that long whip crack several more times, and again I didn’t think it was snapping in empty air.

“Always enthusiastic!” she commented with a wry smile. “As I said, there is nothing unique so far as families go and the ownership of similar creatures. Sons and daughters follow their parents. Hardly surprising if they are raised to accept such ownership as perfectly normal or, say, normal-ish!”

“Something in the genes or DNA, perhaps?”

“Whatever. As I say, such situations are the norm. No doubt there has been the odd potential embarrassment, a black sheep perhaps, but if so, I’ve never heard of such an incident. “ she shrugged. “As I’ve mentioned, such things tend to get dealt with quickly and quietly. Money, power and privilege! People like me who came in from nowhere, so to speak, are relatively rare. Many families have owned such livestock in one form or another for centuries!”

I must have looked surprised, for she laughed before continuing. 

Anyway, finding suitable staff from the inside, so to speak, is not overly burdensome. Patty prefers female staff, but I’ve had my share of sons and daughters over the years. Some drift in and out, whereas others are more long-haul. Of course, there have been times when no one was available, and I needed someone urgently.”

“So, how do you recruit? Stick an advert in the local paper, Human equine trainer for a reluctant subject wanted. Salary, board and lodgings plus whip provided!” I laughed and quickly added a hasty “sorry”, catching the cold look she threw at me.

“Very reluctant, and don’t be facetious! Just for that, I won’t tell you, not now. Next question, please!”

I grinned. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist that one. Okay, then. How about Betty and Gunner? You told me a bit about the former but not the latter. How about starting with that pair? I promise I’ll behave.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see. Anyway, I told you about Betty earlier. She was over here lecturing in Paris on a two-year exchange. We met at an event I was attending, a friend introduced us and….” She paused and looked at me. “Do you know that I’ve never thought about that before? I’ll have to ask her next time I see her, assuming I remember, of course!”

“Ask her?”

“Ummm”, she nodded. “We were watching a dressage performance, as I recall and chatting casually about the event and our respective interests. I remember her telling me that she was less interested in the ultimate end product, ‘the pretty prancing ponies’ as she derisively put it, nodding at the ring but at the earlier stages. Those that involved breaking in and training wild ponies. That was what she found fascinating. I never have asked or even thought to ask how she came to be there and how she got involved in the first place?”

“Not the done thing, perhaps?” I offered half serious, half humorously, risking another dark look!

She shook her head. “No, not a breach of etiquette as far as I’m aware. It simply never occurred to me, I suppose. Anyway, while chatting, I just happened to mention that my prime business was training, breaking fresh stock, and sometimes going with a new pony down whatever path their owners had chosen for them. I invited her down here, and her visit happened to coincide with one of my staff leaving, plus Teddy, my senior, had told me he was going to retire. Lovely guy but had a taste for the high life and fine dining. I’d paid him well as had previous employers, and then his aged mother died and who’d been sitting on a very considerable nest egg unbeknown to him. He took himself off to travel the world, first class, all the way, including four or five sizeable gourmet meals daily. Poor Teddy only made it as far as Bali before he had a fatal heart attack. I did warn him that adding more pounds and kilos to his frame would not be a good idea. He got out of breath just waddling down to the stable, and I doubt he exercised once he’d left! Poor Teddy,” she sighed.

“So Betty took over from him?”

“Not quite. Betty initially volunteered to spend time with us when she heard that Sonia was also leaving. She spent a few months visiting on a part-time voluntary basis and then joined me full-time as a salaried worker once she’d gotten her last batch of students through their exams. Teddy had taken a shine to her the first time she came down and, when he received his sizeable windfall, recommended that she take over from him. My other girl being too young and fairly new herself. The operation was smaller back then before Patty took over”.

I nodded and glanced out of the window at the greenery beyond. A world beyond a world; almost all that I could see was within the boundaries of this woman’s cruel little empire. I wondered if Chloé and her charges were still trotting about somewhere. No, not trotting, faster than that. What was the next one, cantering? Was that it unless she’d slowed them down? “ What about that man, Gunner?” I enquired, turning away from the window.

“Stallion, you mean. Ah yes, our latest candidate for species readjustment!” she grinned at the look on my face and added. “I heard someone say that expression once and found it rather amusing, so I appropriated it”.

“Species readjustment”, I repeated a touch dubiously eyeing her, but she merely smiled and shrugged. 

“Why ever not? My entire life’s work neatly summed up in two words” she paused and sniffed. “Of course, it does not adequately convey the time and amount of work you must put into the process or the expense. Such readjustments don’t come cheap either!”

I nodded. “Nor quickly either, I’d imagine?” I added as the distinct sound of hooves approaching sounded once more. “Do you mind?” I gestured to the window.

She shook her head. “Of course not, don’t be silly. Take a peep. It sounds like Chloé has them on the inner circuit, probably walking them for a couple of rounds to cool off before returning them to the stable. It’s standard stable practice, especially if she’s had them moving at a canter for a prolonged period or even a quick gallop. Knowing that girl, I suspect she wants to hang on to her elevated position of authority as long as possible! ”

I moved to the window in time to see the lightweight carriage make its stately approach around the bend. It was an imposing sight and, as I’d noticed earlier, decidedly erotic, even though it was also a horrible exhibition of cruel debasement, humiliation and torture. Although, somehow, the latter was subordinated in my mind by the former. My eyes moved right to left as the ensemble passed the window. The three ponies in front glistened with sweat on the visible portions of their body. 

Blooper in front, setting an example as he walked in that impressive stately high-legged pony gait I’d heard about. Every step was identical to the previous one despite doing his share of pulling the carriage and its youthful driver, who seemed to be restraining her enthusiasm for that whip she was holding. I could see why as they passed. Blooper was covered in sweat and probably doing more than his fair share of the work looking at the two fillies behind him. They presented a far less impressive spectacle, nor was there anything remotely elegant about their motion as I watched the two unfortunate women pass in front of me.

Candy bar and Chocolate drop had none of the grace displayed by the lead pony as they staggered along, heads down, bodies bent in complete exhaustion, neither making any attempt to emulate the graceful motion of Blooper, not even to keep in step. Even if the window hadn’t been open, I expect  I could have heard them gasping for breath as they strained at the traces binding them to the carriage. Somehow they no longer presented quite the same exotic sight to my eye as they had a little earlier, or no that wasn’t correct. They did but in a different fashion. 

I heard the clink of a cup, “Thoroughly blown; I’ll wager!”  a voice from behind me observed as I watched.

Like Blooper, they were running with sweat from their exertions, but unlike him, they appeared to have provided the primary targets for young Chloés enthusiasm for the whip. Bottoms, breasts and thighs were liberally striped, and thin trails of mingled blood and sweat ran down their bodies in some areas. I watched till they passed out of sight and felt a twinge of pity for the two unfortunate young women, seemingly on the point of collapse, and yet somehow, they carried on and pulled that carriage along with its sadistic young driver. 

“That’s a good term”, I observed as I sat back down. “Blown! Simple but descriptive and very blown, I’d say”. I nodded towards the window. “What happens now?”

She shrugged and took another sip from her cup before placing it back on its saucer. “Oh, just the usual, I expect. They normally put them on one of the walkers by the stable for a bit after they’ve been unhitched and then the regular hose down and clean up plus attending to those areas that might need a little antiseptic and a touch of medical treatment,” She grunted and pursed her lips. “More than a touch, I expect, knowing the young miss! Did they look bad?”

I nodded, thinking of those stripped bottoms and bobbing breasts. “Well, I’m no expert, but even as a newbie to all this, I’d have to say yes!”

My host chuckled. “Well, in that case, they might not be the only ones with a sore bottom. I set a stable rule long ago to discourage such overenthusiasm that Patty has continued to enforce.”

“Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander”, I guessed aloud.

My host laughed. “Precisely. Anything up to a good half dozen from the stable cane across your breeched bum tends to curb such overenthusiasm or stupidity. Depending on the severity of the offence! It’s also a damn good way of showing someone what it feels like to be on the other end of the whip, which is no bad thing. She paused and chuckled. “Mind you, I’m not sure it’s working as intended in that sassy young madam’s case”, she leant forward and winked. “We suspect the little bitch gets an additional kick out of that as well!” she sat back, shaking her head and chuckling good-humouredly. “Patty’s on a hiding to nothing there, I fancy, pun fully intended!”

I also shook my head as I reached for my coffee cup, but my thoughts differed. Jeez, was I really here? I took a sip, and what was all this actually happening and so blatantly? A faint sound reached my ears through the open window, that of a cracking whip! Empty air or upon human flesh, I wondered as I accepted a refill from my gracious host and shook my head once more.