Pony Ranch Chapter ten.

There is something profoundly exhilarating about owning human equines that is difficult to convey in mere words. Yes, you can see a lion or a tiger at the zoo or a safari park, but imagine having your own great big fur baby curled up on your bed or whatever. But of course, lovely as they are, they are still real animals, whereas….the human equine! Both are wild and potentially extremely dangerous if you allow yourself to become too foolish when handling them. That's especially true of the two-legged variety if allowed the slightest leeway, which one never does, and that denial is in itself so delightful to enforce. You'd have to experience it to fully appreciate the immense satisfaction I feel when waking up every morning after that initial disorientated moment between slumber and wakefulness as Sally's shrill alarm heralds the onset of a new day.

My diminutive lover always gives that same cute, sleepy grunt as her tiny hand gropes blindly for the stop button on her side of the bed to cease the intrusive noise. Even as she stirs, my mind is alert and moving across to the stable and its reluctant occupants, acknowledging that I own human equines—actually own them. Mine, all mine to do to and with as I wish and for as long as I wish, waiting patiently in their stalls, captive, dependent, deliciously helpless. My beautiful creatures are waiting for me to address their basic needs and decide what sort of day they will have.

That instinctive initial thought invariably produces a delicious head-to-toe tingle, an involuntary ecstatic shudder of sheer pleasure that serves to jump-start my day. A day that for me will be very opposite of those poor captive human animals mere yards apart in distance from my warm, comfortable bed, yet a universe apart in terms of our respective lives.

I used to be very tardy when getting out of bed in the morning. A touch odd because I'm one of those people who hate being late for anything, so I'm invariably early. Of course, it meant a lot of rushing between bed and destination for most of my life: school, university, work, etc. Invariably, that meant breakfast and appearance would take a back seat, the former satisfied by a take-away coffee and the latter hastily rectified before a mirror in the lady's loo at the office!

Now, being a lady of leisure, I could indulge myself to an extent, although that didn't usually involve lazing about in bed as it had done before my ownership of two-legged equines plus a two/four-legged little puppy girl. Not that I needed to worry too much about Fluffy, not while young Suzy was in residence. The ultra-glamorous Penny likewise, although her visit would soon be coming to an end.

It was a pity because she was good company, and I'd learned much from her besides making an excellent friend. She was quite delightful, possessed a fantastic sense of humour, and, in her own dignified way, was as vivacious and vibrant as young Suzy. Well, perhaps not quite as effervescent and bouncy as that sexy young madam!

They'd had a mild argument over dinner the previous evening about whose turn it was to entertain Fluffy or, to be strictly accurate, I should say be entertained by my cute human puppy's excellent tongue. That little bitch had come a long way in the pussy licking department since I dragged her head between my legs all those months ago. Mind you, the cute little pup hadn't gone short on practice, had she, not lately, for if she weren't next door in the spare room with Suzy, she'd be with Penny in her camper van. There were also those rare occasions of late when Sally had dragged her into our bedroom; at least, they seemed rare recently!

That thought about my ownership of those awaiting in the stable always came to me again as I hurried to the bathroom for a morning pee, a quick splash in the basin, and to run a brush over my toothy pegs. With Sally working a couple of days a week, we'd quickly fallen into a routine; she got priority first thing with Suzy and myself, just nipping in and out quickly, attending to basic needs so Sally could take her time getting ready for work.

"I mean, we've got all day to have a crap and such, haven't we!" As Suzy had somewhat crudely put it one morning. I'd pointed out that if she was bothered, I could always fit her with of the 'shit chutes' as they were crudely called, we fitted to the ponies. The particular duel-purpose anal plugs supported their tails and also held their rectums open so that they had no control whatsoever over their bowel movements. Couple that with an easy-to-slurp-up diet, and when it was time for 'pony poopy plops,' Suzy's term, please note, out it came regardless of what the animal might want. It was utterly degrading but also sadistically sexy and quite delightful to watch, at least to me as the owner!

Naturally, Suzy hadn't availed herself of my offer, and the upside was that I added a new expletive to my vocabulary; the accompanying finger gesture, however, was familiar to me. Thinking about it here must be a more, what would you say, a more formal name for those anal devices. I'd have to go online sometime and have a look at the fetish company website Mandy part owned. They were sure to have them there. Anyway, that's straying from the morning routine I was mentioning.

 Of course, my little lover didn't go to her receptionist job every day, but sometimes she worked extra ad-hoc shifts, so we tended to maintain the same morning routine anyway. Of course, that was irrelevant to those daily delicious thoughts about ownership as I emptied my bladder, scrubbed my face, or over-squeezed the toothpaste tube. Sally always complained about that, squeezing half a yard rather than half an inch! Half a yard, as if? Sheer bloody cheek! Okay, so occasionally, I absent-mindedly squeezed the tube a bit too hard, but if ever there was a classic case of 'pot calling the kettle black', this was it. If Sally wanted to talk about 'heavy-handedness!' Hell, all I had to do was peek into Medusa's stall after one of her frequent training sessions with Medusa, the huge Russian mare, even one of the rare milder ones. One glance at the animal's brutalised hide would settle that argument. Now, that's what I would deem being 'heavy-handed!'

It was strange; I often thought about how quickly one adapts to a new situation. I'd yet to celebrate my first anniversary as a 'pony' owner, although it felt like I'd been handling and possessing such wonderful animals for years. Did my Beauty feel the same way I wondered over there, in her spartan stall? I continued to ponder along those lines as I made myself a coffee and nibbled on a slice of wholemeal toast all on my lonesome, apart from young Raven, who hovered hopefully nearby, greedily eyeing my toast.

Actually, there was no reason for my hasty morning toilet today. Was it there? Habit, I suppose, as I said, because Sally had headed out at an early hour to do an extra shift at the medical centre. They'd started an experimental Saturday morning surgery every other week to try and relieve pressure on the weekday ones. Despite starting at a ridiculous time, it was proving popular with patients but less so with the receptionists and medical staff. Sally, being a kind-hearted little body, tended to do more than her fair share, given all her colleagues in reception were married with children.

I pondered that paradox for a moment, chewing my toast and marmalade. Kind-hearted? I doubted Big Medusa would consider her diminutive owner in that light, nor any of the stabled ponies, for that matter. Mind you, that applied to all of us, didn't it? It wasn't the first time by any means that my mind had run along that particular track. I mean, on the one hand, we were all kind-hearted, were we not? Perfectly normal in every way or almost every way! I automatically glanced through the window at the roof of my stable building as I thought about that last part.

What was that medical term that began with an S? Schizophrenia, no, not that, for that was more a mental disease that impaired the mind without the person realising it, wasn't that, right? I did a quick Google on my phone. 'A mental health condition where you may see, hear or believe things that are not real'. Interesting, I thought taking another bite of toast. Could I apply that to myself? I saw ponies, did I not and yet they were not real, not in the complete equine sense anyway.

I continued to ponder. Kind of a split personality thing, but then, was my personality really split? I was about to reach for my phone again but thought, oh, to hell with it! I mean, nothing was about to change, and besides, I'd been down this same road too many times before starting with that evening I'd first acquired Beauty and Fluffy. Fuck it!

I took pity on the beseeching Raven and tossed the grovelling pup a half-eaten slice of buttered toast, which he promptly snapped at, missed and then slobbered all over the floor in his eagerness to consume it. Suzy was right; he was the worst catcher of a ball in the entire doggy world, totally lacking snout and eye coordination! Throw him a treat, and half the time, you'd end up on your belly alongside him, trying to poke it out from under the cupboard or the sofa, hampered by his over-enthusiastic, frantic, even desperate assistance!

No sign of Penny or Suzy yet, nor little Fluffy come to that. We didn't, or I suppose, since it was my farm or pony ranch, to quote young Suzy, I didn't have a precise morning timetable. I mean, we didn't have to clock in like they used to do in factories. Do they still do that, I wonder? We had settled into a fairly standard morning routine of feeding, grooming, mucking out, etc., without formal planning. We all knew what needed doing first thing, and so did it automatically, just as my first act upon entering the kitchen was to feed young Raven, my over-eager and ever-ravenous German Shepherd pup. Well, more of a young dog now than a puppy.

They all left that chore to me now for in the first week or two of moving back to my renovated farm and the accompanying heady excitement of having a stable full of human ponies. That distraction and a house full of people had meant that my ever-hungry young mutt had managed to persuade either Sally or Suzy that he'd yet to be fed, thus acquiring at least two and, on one occasion, three breakfasts for himself! A little organisation had sorted that problem out, much to his disappointment. I wondered how he'd fare once Suzy and Penny departed, particularly the latter, for she was almost as taken with him as she was with Fluffy. They both tended to be over-generous with doggy treats and looking at him, a lean period wouldn't go amiss!

I glanced at the kitchen clock, thinking it must have been something of a wild night for the threesome, a last energetic sapphic fling perhaps for Penny was due to depart in a couple of days, and they'd all spent the night in her camper van. Anyway, there was no rush was there. I grinned to myself, for our captive livestock wasn't going anywhere. That was an often repeated in-house joke when anything delayed our ability to perform the daily necessities for the creatures. Their diaries were entirely blank when it came to appointments and obligations! The only thing along those lines that concerned them was penned into my diary courtesy of my newfound friend, Mandy or Mrs Amanda Montague-Smythe, to give her full title. Her 'vet' was scheduled to visit me and check over the livestock fairly soon.

“No big deal, so don't worry about it”, Mandy had told me. “Maybe the odd tooth or two that needs pulling. That's a fairly common occurrence and more manageable than messing about trying to fill cavities, but she doesn't charge much for that! Very reasonable and well within your budget, so I wouldn't worry about it.”

I'd shuddered inwardly as the woman had said that so casually, so off-handedly, just as she was leaving to drive home. The dentist my mother had used when I was a child had terrified me, and still does when I think back to those hated visits. He might have been good and well thought of, as they told me by his adult patients, but his approach to the scared youngsters in his horrible chair had left much to be desired bedside manner-wise. I'd made a mental note to pay more attention to cleaning my animal’s teeth than I had previously, but more for my own sake than theirs. 

That had amused Sally when I'd told her about it late one evening. We were in bed, and my tiny lover had been busy 'downstairs' working her sweet little tongue very enthusiastically, if I can put it like that. I suppose it was an odd topic of conversation thinking back and very bad timing on my part, for she immediately stopped just when I least appreciated such a cessation of said talented tongue endeavours and rolled about laughing, obviously finding the idea hilarious.

 “So, you've no problem with whipping, cropping and canning the creatures, but the thought of a pair of dental pliers gives you the Heebie-Jeebies!” she'd laughed before adding thoughtfully. “Well, I don't know about Goldie, but if his gnashers are anything like my Medusa's, those pliers will be very busy before long. Russian dentistry seems to be a tad behind the Western world. Anyway, they all need their back ones removed so the mouth bits fit sit better; that's standard practice, you know that!”

I chewed slowly on another slice of toast, thinking about what she'd said. Mandy had offered to get Beauty 'done', as she'd put it when I stayed with her while my place was being extensively renovated, but I'd declined. I'd felt a mite squeamish about it at the time, probably an extension of my dental phobia. I had a great dentist now, but I still had to work myself up for every appointment. Besides, it would have meant putting Beauty out of action for a week or so while her mouth and gums healed, and that would have interrupted the intensive carriage training she was undergoing while such facilities were available. Plus, of course, I had no idea how extensive the modifications to my humble estate would be at that time.

When I thought about it, it wasn't even as though she had nice teeth. Mine were nothing to write, or white, home about if you'll forgive that bit of silliness. Sally had nice teeth, and so did Suzy, although neither could compare to Penny's brilliant, artificially whitened model magazine smile. For the American market, she'd laughed one evening when we were discussing the subject. “They have this silly notion that they have the best teeth in the world simply because of their fixation, which is for gleaming whiteness. I once read that the UK's a little bit higher rated in terms of overall dental health generally, but our colonial cousins wouldn't buy that because we don't have that same mania for gleaming whiteness. Head to head pro rata, they have far more crowns and false stuff than we Europeans do!”

She'd frowned at that point to add, “At least that used to be the case, but now every YouTube so-called influencer on this side of the pond looks like that and not just teeth. Every young girl is avidly playing copycat, eyebrows, lashes, lips, hair implants, plus boob jobs for their sixteenth birthday present! Why can't they be content with what they've got?”

Penny had said that last part somewhat thoughtfully, staring into her half-empty wine glass, I recalled. I'd shared a quick, amused glance with Suzy and Sally, three minds all thinking the same thought as one. Oh yeah, it's very easy to be content with what you had if you'd been given what she had. I'd seen her first thing in the morning without a smidgen of makeup, hair all over the place, wearing an unflattering and decidedly unsexy baggy flannel pyjama set, and she still could have made the cover of Vogue!

They did fit better, though, didn't they? My mind switched back to mouth bits. It was apparently a relatively simple procedure performed under a local dental numbing anaesthetic to remove some bottom molars on each side. Suzy's Candyfloss had, of course, been done long before she'd been given to the girl. Likewise, Penny's new stallion plus Chatterbox, the one-time TV reporter she'd also brought with her so she could accompany me while I honed my riding skills upon Beauty. Her Goofy's extractions were more recent. Indeed, she'd admitted that his bit had gone back in only a fortnight before she'd brought him with her. Nor had he benefited from anaesthetic or numbing when the vet stroke dentist worked on him. I'd stared at her in horror when she'd told us that, although neither Suzy nor Sally seemed much perturbed by what she said.

“I hadn't had him that long”, the beautiful girl had told us in between mouthfuls of Sally's homemade strawberry cheesecake and ice cream that she was obviously enjoying. The cheesecake was homemade, I mean, not the ice cream.

“Nothing at all!” I'd gasped in horror.

“Uh huh!" she'd tossed her head dismissively while helping herself to another slice of cheesecake and a dollop of ice cream before finishing the one on her plate. “I hadn't had him all that long, as you know, and the silly animal wasn't being at all receptive to his new lifestyle.”

“They never are,” Suzy had interjected quickly, helping herself to the last piece of dessert and also spooning a generous portion of ice cream onto it. “Any problems?”

“Not for me” Penny gave an evil smile. “He was tacked up and already well-striped from my canes and whips, but apparently, that wasn't enough for the message to start sinking into his stupid animal brain. We had him well strapped down, so about all he could move were his eyes, and screw clamps held his mouth wide open. Of course, the moment I removed his bit, he started getting lippy in a very nasty way, but that stopped as soon as the clamps started forcing his mouth wide. What's wrong?”

I’d shaken my head. “Nothing, do go on”, I’d replied, trying to lose that image of some horrible rubber things my dentist had inserted into my young mouth to save his fingers. I could still recall the feel and even the taste of the horrid things and tried not to shudder again.

Penny had given me a questioning look as she paused to add another dollop of ice cream to her plate, spooning a mouthful of cheesecake and ice cream into her mouth and nodding to herself for a moment before continuing. “If he'd shown even a modicum of cooperation, I might have been a bit more lenient” She paused and then shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not? Anyway, there he was, totally helpless, and I stood looking down at him with a pair of dental pliers in my hand and told him what would happen and why. I was now his owner, and I wanted his mouth bit to fit properly, blah, blah, blah, the usual bullshit!” she grinned and then laughed.

“My, you should have seen the look in his eyes as I leaned over him, letting that sink in. I'd deliberately been a bit liberal with my favourite perfume that morning and wearing one of my low-cut tops and no bra, of course. The maximum ultra full-on feminine effect,” she'd giggled and wriggled her shoulders, peering downwards. “Like today, in fact. Still firm, see. Enough, but by no means over much. Most of us girls who pose for the major glossies rather than porn mags are the same. There is just enough frontage so we don't get taken for a boy, but not enough to start going all droopy and saggy before we get to thirty”.

I'd shaken my head at that point. “Somehow, I can't see anyone taking you for a boy!” I quickly reassured her.

Penny giggled and flashed her gorgeous toothpaste advert smile at me in acknowledgement. Then, she immediately continued her story in that ruthless, casual way that belied her sweet looks and personality.

“That was the first time I saw that look of total despair in his eyes rather than the usual stupid male arrogance. You know what I mean, that lightbulb moment when the silly creatures begin to realise that their lives have undergone an abrupt change and that said change might be far more permanent than they initially thought!”

“You can’t do this to me!” Suzy grunted in a mock deep voice and then giggled before continuing in her own. “Oh, but we can and will do it and a whole lot more, sweetykins!”

Penny chuckled and was about to continue but, looking at me, said, “Yes?” instead. Pausing because she realised, I had a question poised on my lips. I did, and I suspected I knew the answer already but asked it anyway, risking my companion's amusement. I bit the bullet because I was a newcomer to all this, and they both knew that.

“Does that ever happen? I mean, does a pony like Goofy ever get free and get back to freedom, to the wild as it was before?” I added that as inspiration, terminology-wise came to me for that last bit.

“No!" Suzy answered, and I noted that it was a very firm No—an instant negative with little hesitation. The young girl looked me straight in the eyes; a spoon paused halfway to her lips before she shrugged and added, “Never”, and the spoon finished its journey.

“Impractical, very impractical! Not to mention being foolish. Good question, though,” Penny mused, pursing her lips looking thoughtful and then muttered. “No, I can't say that I've even heard of a single instance like that, have you?” she'd turned to look at Suzy.

The younger girl promptly shook her head. “Nope. I've heard some stories about animals briefly escaping, but such silly breaks for freedom rarely last long. Carelessness on the part of their owners or handlers usually, and given how we tack them and so forth, the foolish creatures are hardly equipped for success, are they?”

Penny nodded. “It happened to me once when I got a little careless. The Filly lashed out at me and made a break for freedom that lasted less than five minutes, and it subsequently paid an excruciating price for such foolish audacity! I expect it’s happened quite a few times, given the cunning nature of our beasts, but no one talks about it. No one likes looking foolish, after all, do they? Once stabled, kennelled, caged or in some cases, even styed, that's how they stay. Now, where was I?”

“Showing Goofy your frontage or lack of it”, Suzy impudently supplied, “and waving some dental pliers around!”

Penny glared at her for a second, clearly inwardly debating whether to respond, but decided to ignore the young girl's jibe. “'Then I sat down near him,  right in his line of sight where he could see and smell me and not a thing he could do with his mouth held open and his head held firm while the pliers went to work in a pair of very experienced hands. No hurry, I said. Attitude-wise, I think my little lesson in total ownership might have begun to sink in at that point even more than when I flogged his stupid, disobedient rump!”

I returned to the present with a shudder. "Very cruel, wasn't she," I told Raven as I tossed him the remaining portion of my toast slice. Of course, he jumped up, snapped at it, missed it as it bounced off his nose, and then scampered after it, his claws skittering on the wooden kitchen floor in his haste to retrieve the fragment. Suzy always said he was the worst dog ever when it came to playing catch and speaking of the devil; I caught sight of movement outside the window. Suzy was up and opening the stable door.

*****

"Day after tomorrow," Penny told me. "That’s if you can put up with us for another day or so” She paused and smiled at me.

The girl, or perhaps woman, I should say, had a firm grip on Goofy’s reins. He was the other part of that ‘us’ along with Chatterbox, his female stable mate. Not that it would have made any difference to him, for he had no say in the matter, no say in anything for that matter, and that wasn’t just because of the cruel bit in his mouth.

It was early afternoon, and it had been my turn to do the dishes after a delightful light lunch: green salad, a cheese and onion quiche that Sally had brought back after her morning reception shift, and some delicious fresh-baked crusty bread still warm from the oven. Simple but delicious!

Two-legged ponies, of course, don’t get a mid-day meal, just breakfast and supper, and if they are good and well-behaved, maybe the occasional treat or titbit. The frequency of the latter depending very much on the nature and mood of their owners.

My mind had been running along those lines as I lightly scrubbed at the plates with a tatty foam scouring pad well beyond its best days. I did have a dishwasher but rarely used it, even now with four of us in residence. Two meals a day was the equine standard, so it seemed. I’d asked big Sarah and Mandy that question when I was staying there, or ‘doing my basic training’ as young Suzy sometimes put it. They’d both thought about it but then shaken their heads; neither of them could think of any stable or owner they knew who differed. “Industry Standard!” Mandy had laughed.

Food, though, wasn’t an industry standard and could vary wildly among the various stables both domestically and abroad. I’d asked Mandy out of curiosity how many places there were in the world like hers or my soon-to-be little establishment, but she’d only laughed and tapped her nose as she sometimes did in response to a question. I knew what the gesture meant and hadn’t taken offence. The short translation meant, mind my own business, the more polite interpretation being that I was very new and didn’t need to know as yet about such things! She added with a laugh that even if she had given me a figure, it would probably have been wildly inaccurate. Given the nature of our activities and the fact that thousands of people go missing every year, for every similar establishment she knew about, there could be one or two she didn’t. After all, the world was rather big, and some countries and regimes were somewhat reclusive and secret, were they not?

I reached for the last plate, still thinking about that conversation. At breakfast the following morning, Mandy had tossed a two-day-old copy of the ‘Times’ newspaper at me, saying, “Here, a present from Bob, the third page in, I think he said”. The broadsheet was neatly folded in half at the financial pages with various stock prices and articles ringed in red sharpie, and of course, I promptly made a fool of myself unfolding the damn thing and trying to get to the right page. I absolutely hate those big broadsheet papers, plus you need elongated arms like a damn gorilla to sit there holding the wretched things open!

I ignored Mandy’s evident amusement as I fought and then tamed the uncooperative sheets, folding and folding until I was on the correct page with a manageable-sized hunk of paper. It was an article about people going missing annually in the US and the UK. The figures were astonishing, almost unbelievable, but then I was reading an article in my country's premier and probably oldest newspaper. The Times of London and not some nasty tabloid full of sensational crap, some of which might even have been almost true occasionally!

According to the interesting article, around 600,000 people go missing in the US every year, with around 90,000 never being found. The figure for the UK was 170,000, with about 20,000 never being found, and that was annually. I looked up in amazement at Mandy, who pursed her lips and nodded before saying, ”And those are just the statistics for the ones who are officially reported missing and in only two countries. One wonders how many go unreported, illegals and similar, for instance.” She’d suddenly laughed and winked at me, nodding this time towards the stable building visible through the big bay window. “Kind of lowers the odds against us, doesn’t it when you read those huge numbers?”

I paused with that last dripping plate in my hand as I recalled that conversation and looked across at my more modest outbuilding, thinking of what it contained within. Even now, after all these months, I was still a touch unsettled by what I’d done and with the crazy, unbelievable world that I’d so quickly become involved with. Guilt, fear, conscience, a potpourri of similar feelings I still had but nowhere near as strong as they’d been initially. That breakfast conversation had certainly helped dull the edge of those troublesome reservations.

Was it that or merely a case of familiarity breeding contempt? I found I could apply a whip or cane to my captive beasts now with none of those earlier fears and doubts that had lurked in the back of my mind during those first few months. Not that such worries had ever stopped me from disciplining my captive human livestock or enjoying the delicious sadistic sensations that accompanied such actions.

I saw Penny emerging from the stable as I emptied the sink and wiped my hands dry on a towel, and a sudden urge to indulge in such wicked actions overcame me. Why not? The morning had been spent chiefly on mundane chores, partly out of necessity and party routine animal husbandry, and none of us seemingly felt over-energetic after our collective tardy start to the morning. Cleaning and mucking out are the downsides to owning such exotic beasts or any large captive or tame beast come to that. Besides, she’d told me yesterday that she’d know today when she would be returning to her own place. Had she decided, I wondered, heading for the external door.

*****

 “Yup, the day after tomorrow. Behave!” Penny confirmed and then snarled, yanking on the short reins with one hand and lashing out to deliver a vicious stroke to Goofy's thigh with the long crop in the other. “Don’t fuck me about today, boy, or I’ll flay the skin off your rump” Another nasty flick from her crop emphasised her words, as did the way she yanked his head down nearer to hers as she spoke. 

“We’ll miss you,” I told her as Goofy writhed helplessly in her grip, rather amusingly trying to dance in agony and remain absolutely still at the same time. The beautiful Penny we both knew was not one to cross even when in a good mood, and that wasn’t the case at the moment. She’d been a touch snappy all morning for some reason.

“Stand, stay!” She emphasised with one long finger, tapping his nose hard before turning back to me. “Yes, it’s been fun, but I’ve missed the kids and my hunky man. Not to mention the sizeable and important extra he brings to the marital bed. I’m not averse to a touch of female tongue from time to time, but at heart, I’m a very conventional missionary position gal!” She laughed and winked meaningfully. “They’ll be heading back now that my dearest mum-in-law is over her little problem” She paused to pull a face and added with an accompanying shrug, “Unfortunately!”

“We all have our little crosses to bear” I grinned at her and received that same finger she’d just used upon Goofy by way of a reply as she said. “Yeah, well, so far as crosses are concerned, if I ever have to go up there again, I might take a handful of long nails and a hammer with me. Although, in her case, nailing the old witch to her broomstick is more likely! Do you know she once called me a ‘nasty cold-hearted bitch right to my face!”

I chuckled and glanced at Goofy. “I can’t imagine why!”

“Me neither,” Penny shook her head ruefully. It took a moment to register that she was perfectly serious, and then I grinned. Was the old lady in question a touch more intuitive than her daughter-in-law gave her credit for? I wondered. I shook myself. It was of no business of mine, was it?

“Anyway,” Penny continued, “I might see you at the auction next month. The one Mandy mentioned the other day. Not that I need anything, but you never know. Something might catch my eye. I haven’t decided yet whether to attend; I’ll wait until I’ve been back home for a day or two. You’re all going en masse with Mandy, aren’t you?”

I nodded and then immediately shook my head. “Yes and no. I’m going out of curiosity, and Suze has to go since she’s trading in old Candyfloss for her dream boy, dream ponyboy, that is! Mandy and Sarah will pick us up along with Candyfloss. The Range Rover, I expect, and the big horsebox; she said she was taking one animal to sell and possibly another if its owners made up their minds about selling. We can’t all go, though, and Sally’s volunteered to stay behind and hold the fort, do the feeding, play security guard and all that. She doesn’t mind because she’s been to them before, whereas this will be my first time at such an event.”

“Excited?” Penny chuckled and jerked on Goofy’s reins, pulling him forward a pace. “I know how I felt my first time, and I had that same feeling again when I saw this big brute in the flesh. Originally, I hadn’t intended to attend and only went to view a filly as a favour to one of my clients at the last minute. Lucky for us, I did, eh boy?”.

As she spoke, I caught the look in her captive ponyboy's hostile eyes and wondered what he’d thought when first seeing her. Had he initially harboured some positive, hopeful thoughts about freedom before his beautiful owner had quickly amended any such foolish optimism?

“I’m sure I will find it interesting and entertaining” was my cautious reply.

Penny laughed, saluted me with her crop, and flicked Goofy on the thigh, but only lightly by her standards. “Come on, Big Boy, walk on, follow,” she tugged him along. Then she laughed again and said over her shoulder, “Well, you’ll have two vacant stalls again, Honey, but I’d leave your chequebook at home. That’s all I’m saying for your first time. Mind you, it depends on what they have available. None of us is immune from the old ‘Kid in a candy shop’ syndrome” She laughed again, and this time, Goofy did dance as the crop casually rose and fell for no apparent reason other than it could!

I watched for a second as she led him towards my outside ponywalker, then glanced at the sky. It was overcast, grey and threatening, and though not raining yet, the air felt damp, and it wouldn’t be long. That wouldn’t worry Penny, though, nor me, for the big thing was weatherproofed, and to a certain extent, so was the pony beneath its relentless rotating arm. The leather tack wasn’t quite the same, but as Big Sarah had told me back at Mandy’s place, rain, body sweat, and the stable hose pipe helped achieve a better fit over time. Besides, there was no shortage of replacement gear awaiting a new owner in the tack room if needed!

Penny needn’t have worried herself about my chequebook either. I was by no means wealthy but what I’d modestly call financially comfortable with enough on hand, saved and carefully invested to ensure my little operation ran smoothly both for now and the foreseeable future. I’d been way luckier than I could have ever imagined. Hell, when I looked at what I had at my disposal now compared to those distant days of surfing the internet for ponygirl stuff and then frigging myself to exhaustion with my little vibrator, how could I possibly complain about anything!

Anyway, over the last few months, I’ve learned something about the value of ‘human livestock’, and one thing I'd garnered from such information was that these auctions they casually mentioned from time to time were unlikely to have the equivalent of a ‘bargain-bin’. The sort of prices I’d heard mentioned had confirmed one thing, even if I hadn’t already realised it. I was probably the exception among a small global pool of mega million and billionaires, and I already owned two fine ponies plus Fluffy. I rather suspected that even the most aged and clapped-out two-legged nag on offer would be way beyond my modest means.

I looked back as a couple of loud cracks sounded, a vicious leather crop impacting upon helpless naked ponyboy hide as Penny fastened her reluctant struggling animal to the walker just as the first light drops of rain began to fall. No doubt the start of a long and painful afternoon for him where getting wet would be the least of his worries. She was very dissatisfied, I knew, with his clumsy, inelegant ‘high pony stepping’ gait. 

The crop crack sounded again as I entered the old barn, now designated stable, still thinking about chequebooks. I wondered if the banks even issued them anymore as standard when you opened an account. Besides, with all my bills on direct debit payments and similar, I didn’t know where my chequebook was and couldn’t even remember the last time I’d written one! How did they make payments, I wondered and then, well….. I grinned to myself.

“What’s amusing you, then, Big Boss Lady?” Suzy peered curiously at me from the far side of the stable as she exited Candyfloss’s stall. “Why the beaming Cheshire Cat impression?”

“Gold bars, maybe diamonds or even barrels of oil if what I’ve heard about the popularity of pony ownership in that part of the world is true” I chuckled and then laughed aloud at the perplexed expression on her pretty face. “Or rather, my lack of them!