“Over there,” one of the handlers said to Kenneth, pointing. “You’re number 11. This here’s number 3 and you’re 11.” He had simply followed behind the blond woman and the red headed man guiding her. When he turned Ruth around and headed back to the right spot, he was surprised to find two young girls heading right for them. Pulling Ruth sharply to the right, he managed to avoid running into either of the girls, driven, surprisingly, by a pair of tough looking dykes. The girls looked enough alike to be twins, though they were in fact sisters with more than a year’s difference in their ages. They were both slim, pretty creatures with light brown hair, small delicate features and long necks. Christina, just eighteen, was a senior in high school, worked part time selling tickets at the multiplex movie theater and quite anxious to be out on her own. Karen, a little more than a year older, was still living at home even though she had a fulltime job as a bank teller. There had been a terrible row with their parents about what time they had to be back from a dance. The girls were angry enough that they decided to run away from home, at least for the weekend. That would show their mother, the sterner of the two. It was after the dance when they were supposed to be on their way home that they began hitchhiking and, with apparent good fortune, had been picked up by the fourth car that passed them. The two tough-looking, leather jacketed women in the front seat said very little as they drove along. After the younger sister, Chrissie, said that they didn’t care where they went, they were looking for an adventure, the pair in front told them they were going to a cabin in the woods. It wasn’t an invitation, merely a statement of fact. Karen, the older sister, tried to explain that they were expected somewhere, at a party, but it was too late. She wasn’t believed. At the wood frame cottage, whose owners were off on a world cruise, the sisters were ordered inside, shown a pistol, made to strip, told what was expected of them and shown exactly how they were to please their new masters.
The girls were kept in line with the threat that if they disobeyed even one command, or if they tried to escape, they would be sold to a local motorcycle gang. As things were to turn out, they were going to be sold in any event, but the threat was effective. After two weeks the sisters were accustomed to being ordered about in monosyllables. Their captors didn’t bother to distinguish between their two captives, addressing whichever was closer as “You!” “Hey you!” or “Come!” or “Down!” They, on the other hand, knew very well the difference between the taller, meaner one with gray streaks in her hair and the shorter one who at least didn’t hit them as much or spank them so often. They spent their days cleaning the little cottage, or cooking, or down on their knees fulfilling seemingly insatiable desires. On those evenings when their captors went out, the girls were tied together, wrists bound to the other’s ankles and left on the floor of the cabin, heads resting between the other’ thighs. When their rulers returned, usually drunk, it amused them to have the sisters simultaneously stimulate each other to orgasm, while they sat, bottles of beer in hand, cheering the performance. The younger sister twitched and her legs shook when she got there, while her older sister couldn’t keep herself from uttering a muted roar. One night they were joined by two men whose loud motorcycles announced their arrival from a mile away. The girls were led to believe that if they put on a good show, they would be let go. In fact, the two men were there to see what was on offer, whether the merchandise was worth the price being asked, and if possible to have a sample. In this last they were to be disappointed.
The two dykes, walking comfortably behind their charges looked Ruth up and down, ignoring Kenneth. Chrissie as the smallest of the day’s ponies would be assigned Number 1 and her sister Karen, Number 2. They walked past Alicia on their right and came to a stop. Since everything was prepared it didn’t take as long as it might have to hook them up to their carts. All the bolts were fastened, the pins attached and the lines straightened. The rider climbed up into the single seat, was shown where the feet went and how to use the brake. The handler handed each rider a whip and started the pony with a sharp slap on her rump. The blow had a serious purpose. The ponies had to learn how much effort it took to put the cart with its rider in motion from a complete stop. Once moving, much less force was needed to keep it going. The two sisters moved off together, their riders giggling with pleasure at being pulled along by their two naked girls.
When it was Alicia’s turn to be hitched to the cart, Arthur jerked back on the reins to bring her to a full stop. The reins were pulled over her head and slipped through a ring on a small wooden post. “These two shafts,” said the sandy haired man who was helping Arthur, “fit through those loops.” Standing on either side of Alicia, they tipped the front of the vehicle, rolled it forward and slid the wooden shafts through loops at her hips. “We’ll adjust the height a little more when you’re aboard. Just now let’s make it fast.” Together they slid a round black metal bar on to the shafts. When the bar was hard against her belly they tightened the clamps. “Keep you and her in synch. Going in the same direction. See?” Arthur said he did. “And it spreads the force evenly, so they pull with the whole body using both the hips and the back. Get it?”
All of a sudden, Alicia felt her ears redden and her face get hot. Even more disturbing than the bit that pulled against the back of her mouth, this bar pressing hard on her belly made it searingly clear that she and the cart were locked together as a single unit and this man was in absolute control. She had become a part of the apparatus.
Next they fastened the lines from the vehicle to the brass fittings on her wide belt; jerking each of the connections to be sure they were firmly attached. When Alicia was fully hooked up, Arthur climbed aboard. “Couple of things,” the handler began, as he raised the height of the sulky a few inches. “First, don’t speed her up or slow her down too fast. Everything in stages. Start too fast and she’ll get jerked backward. Slow down too fast and you’ll run her over. When you slow her up, use the brake. And when you go downhill, use the brake. You gotta be going slower than her.” Her cart was blue, matching the color of the sneakers she wore. The number 3 was painted on both sides. He unfastened the reins, handed them over her head to Arthur and finally, attached a round discs, also with the number 3 on both of her hips. When the handler slapped her backside, Alicia jumped forward before slowing down.
Arthur bounced up and down once or twice behind her in the well-sprung sulky, pulled sharply on the reins, tapped his whip against Alicia’s right shoulder and was gratified when she immediately jogged in the direction he indicated. Arthur looked around, allowing himself the first bit of relaxation he had felt since arriving at the farm. He brought her to a stop in order to test the brake and, with a flick of the whip across the backs of her shoulders, started her up again.
The first several steps took a bit of effort but once they were rolling, Alicia was surprised at how simple it was to pull both the cart and the man in it. That was the secret, she thought. Just concentrate on what was immediately in front of you. Don’t think about anything else. Look straight ahead. She felt the bit pull against her cheek. In response she angled in the indicated direction to lessen the pressure. They were learning about each other very quickly. She was learning what his commands meant and how to react. He, in turn, was getting used to the ways in which she responded.
Arthur had never been successful with women. Maybe it was his round face whose smallish features seemed to get lost against his pale skin. Or maybe it was his hair that began thinning in college. He was fearful of women, and hesitant around them. The better looking the woman, the less assured he felt. But right there in front of him was this blond beauty. He had harnessed her, oiled her, attached her to the cart, and now she was heeding his every wish, answering all his commands. He studied her back, her blond hair drifting across her shoulders as she trotted along in front of him, her rounded behind swinging from side to side. The buggy’s seat was equipped with springs for the rider’s comfort and as a result was very bouncy. Arthur became acutely aware that the motion of the seat and the excitement of the moment were having an effect between his legs. Pulling back on the reins, remembering only at the last second to apply the brake, he brought her to a stop. He jumped to the ground, climbed over the shaft and, standing in front of the little cart, he lowered his pants, reached around to grasp her breasts and pushed into her. In a moment he emptied himself into the crack of her behind and between her thighs. He closed his eyes resting his head in her hair, taking in the feel and smell of her, kneading her long, wonderful breasts. “Alicia,” he whispered, “my dear, sweet Alicia.”
Arthur was good with his whip. After they showed him the pictures and he had made the down payment, Arthur went to a tack shop and bought a whip. Every day he practiced in his small apartment, learning to aim and control it. He lived in a corner apartment and the young couple next door were the only ones disturbed by the snapping sounds. They were new residents, sublets, and were afraid to complain either to the landlord or to the distinguished looking man from whose apartment the noises came. There were bright welts on her back and shoulders marking the first few times he used the whip on her. Now it was enough to touch her with it or merely show the whip beside her head to impose his will. At the moment he had her trotting after a beautiful dark haired woman who he wanted to see. “Hah,” he grunted, just touching Alicia’s shoulder with the whip to speed her up. Arthur could only see her back as they negotiated the grounds. To compensate, he had her chasing after the other girls, circling so he could get a good look as they approached each other.
After the first few minutes Alicia found she was pulling his weight without too much effort. For his part, Arthur stopped jerking on the reins, and began guiding her smoothly from side to side or easing back to slow or stop her. Other than being alert to her rider’s wishes, Alicia watched the ground for holes and stones but also glanced around at the other naked girls pulling their carts. The females seemed to have similar reactions, a certain curiosity about the other naked ponies and an aversion to making eye contact with either ponies or riders. The two dykes remained side by side, the sisters pulling them matching strides and maneuvers. Arthur turned Alicia toward the dark, curly haired woman now wearing bright yellow shoes and pulling a yellow chariot. When they were within about 20 feet of each other, he slowed Alicia to a walk and told her strut. Alicia pulled up her right leg. “Higher,” he shouted behind her. The whip bit into the outside of her right thigh. She brought her left leg up until up until it almost touched her breast. The girl with the curly hair had large, striking eyes. A jewelled star bounced between her full round breasts. Her very pretty face was screwed up with fear. A little further on a very tall, woman with fair skin and almost white blond hair, appeared to be struggling.