A New Mare - 4 Home Coming!

by Jane Cobb
with an illustration by John Willie

- do not use without the author's permission.


I wasn’t prepared for the spectacle that greeted us when the plane landed. There was a carriage waiting with six girls, mares, harnessed to it. They stood there proudly with a plumed headdresses and bells on the reins and their nipples too. The bells were hung on little clamped on sleeves that formed a sheath around length of the nipple, but I didn’t see that until Mom and I were led on our reins closer to the Queen’s carriage.

It was a flurry of activity the minute we landed at Saint Barts. Queen Pamela and Lady Karen went to the back of the plane to change their clothes for the return greetings that was being prepared around the stopped plane. Sir Clayton came over to take charge of re-tacking me. Lady Karen’s chief stable hand was assigned to Mom. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Mom stood there calmly and let James tighten and adjust her body harness and put the bridle and bit on her. He then produced a long piece of leather that looked slightly triangular. It slid up both her arms behind her back and I was to learn later that it was called a single glove, though some call it an arm binder. Mom had actual held her own arms behind her and then shrugged her shoulders in order to get the glove high up her arms. Straps from the top of the glove were passed across Mom’s shoulders and the buckled on the other side so the crossed straps kept the glove from sliding down.

I didn’t try and fight this time. I felt that by now my fate was sealed until I got off the plane and could search for other options. But I would try hard to give it a year’s test for Mom’s sake. Sir Clayton secured me in a single glove too, telling me what it was. “Mares pull with their whole bodies and their arms aren’t really needed. But the single gloves are used mostly for shows. It looks very impressive when a well trained mare is rendered totally helpless. And her posture forced her chest outward so that is proudly displaying her breasts for all to see.”

“Well, I am that, Sir Clayton. I have breasts and I am a woman so I guess I should be proud of that much. But how much of a Mare as you put it I’m, I wouldn’t know. Is this tight enough?”

“Just a slight tug more,” he said. “Move your shoulders, wiggle them like Nugget did.” So I did and felt my hands sink even deeper toward the bottom of the leather behind my back. I tried to move my arms but they didn’t move far. A buckle was closed on a strap that threaded between the glove and my waist belt in back, so that the glove would stay held in position at my back. Then he lifted my feet, one at a time and put the same type of suede leather shoes on me that Mom had on. Soft, glove leather uppers and a rubber sole with a slight 1 ˝” wedge heel and ribs across the ball of the foot for traction.

Finally he held up the bridle and bit to put them around my head and in my mouth. Just as the bit came near I turned my head and clamped down on my mouth. “That’s silly, Strawberry. There only one place for you to go and that’s out of his plane. Carried or walking doesn’t matter.”

I sighed and turned my head and parted my lips. “What’s a roundabout?” I asked quickly, just before bit went in.

“It’s a carousal or marry-go-round used to train mares. Metal arms attached to post overhead and they are sometimes motorized. The mare on a roundabout either exercises to get in shape or practice the gaits, gallop, canter, trot or walk for when she’s displayed at a show OR at a gathering. If it’s for exercise aS motor turns and forces the mares to run or canter to the pace of the motor. The mares also learn to keep up with each other. Without the motor it used to teach gaits. Gallop, canter, trot and walk and high step walk, basically for dressage. The human mares here learn just about the same thing that are taught to real horses and ponies but are adapted to the limits of human forms.

“It’s a form of exercise and training and mares are all athletes that need to be trained too. Your mother’s out of shape and you’ve never really been in shape, not compared to our mares. You are about to have a lot of time at the roundabout, I would guess.”

Then he held up the white plastic egg with the tail attached and I cringed inside. The only thing I could relate the whole idea of the tail in my rectum was to enemas that I had a few times over the years. But this egg, the size of a small chicken’s egg was larger then any enema nozzle I’d ever seen. “Bend over, Strawberry,” Sir Clayton said as he put one arm around my waist and pushed on my back between my shoulder blades. I screamed at myself inside my own mind as I bent over but only a token of resistance. I found myself bent over at my waist with my head parallel to the floor of the plane. Then the cinch strap was unbuckled in the back and lowered. Sir Clayton was just about to insert the egg in between my pubic lips, into my pussy and I wondered why. “We need lubrication from your vaginal juice to make the egg insert easier,” he explained.

I tried to say no but it sounded like oh-h instead, so I neighed. “No,” Sir Clayton said to me, “this has to be done.”

“Sir Clayton,” the Queen’s voice said. “Not if she’s a virgin!”

I whinnied loudly as best I could. Mom whinnied to and did her right foot step sign. “A virgin mare?” Sir Clayton asked in a tone of wonder.

“She’s not from her, Sir Clayton,” the Queen reminded him. “Check her hymen to see first!”

The egg was pulled back and I felt the man’s longest finger slide between my vagina folds and push up into me very slowly. The he hit the membrane and I felt a spasm inside me as my vagina clutched at his intrusion inside of my torso. He said, “She is a virgin,” in a tone of astonishment.

“Give me her egg,” Lady Karen said as she came out of the back. She was now dressed in a really nice, stylish, cream colored, skirt suit with the pill box hat and demi-veil. She could have been going to church, or shopping, anywhere in the U.S dressed that way. She took the egg, lifted the front hem of her skirt and then worked the egg inside her pussy and twisted it around while blushing the whole time. Her eyes were closed and she moaned softly, just loud enough that everyone knew she was enjoying the feel of the egg inside her vagina. Then she withdrew the egg, now bright with her vaginal lubrication from her insides. She held it to my anus and pressed it forward. “You have to push back too, Strawberry,” she told me. “Push like you’re trying to have a bowl movement and it’ll slide it easier.”

So I gave the push she asked me to and gasped when the egg did slide in. And my anus closed around the base stem of the held tail outside my body and it was in deep enough to be secured even if the cinch strap was re-buckled back in place. But the cinch strap was buckled and I stood back up, now with Lady Karen holding my reins in another close grip just under my chin.

I was an 18 year old girl, raised in a suburb near Chicago in the late 1940s to 1962. I hadn’t known about what people do, except for what heard other girls talk about and what I saw of my father’s hidden picture books about human mares and ponygirls. So I knew, vaguely, that he liked to look at those pictures. But I knew nothing of pornography or sexuality or what people really did. And here I was living out the fantasies of my Dad and there was my mother, held on reins like I was with the Queen of her home country holding her in place.

Queen Pamela had changed to an elegant, light green, silk caftan that draped around her body. White, strappy, high heeled sandals were on her feet and a tiara was mounted on her head, with her long, dark, black hair falling in waves behind her. She stood there, regally; holding the reins of her mare, my Mother, with a close rein in her left hand with the rest of the reins looped over and held up by the other right hand. Lady Karen held me in the same way and we formed up in line behind the queen. I saw how proudly my Mother stood next to the queen. I had never, in my life, seen my Mother act this way and look anything like this.

Her whole body was erect and poised as if she were about to take off on a run. The glove held her arms back, as were mine and her breasts were thrust forward, as were mine but she was willingly pushing them even further out, displaying her bared breasts as if they were trophies. But while I was only trying to imitate her, Mom was beginning to show the re-gained pride she had lost over the years while away from this, to me, strange place. The queen moved forward and guided my mother with an ease I could only envy.

Then Lady Karen and I went toward the planes open door too. The queen led Mom to the open door and they took one step out onto the stairs of the landing ramp and the crowd outside began to cheer. The crowd was cheering both the queen and my mother! I could hear the voices of the crowd as some of them were saying “Long live Queen Pamela!” Other voices were saying “The queen’s mare!” “She has returned,” was also being shouted. I was in total awe!

Nothing about high school history classes had taught me anything that I could use to relate to what was going on right now and happening to my mother as she stood there. When the crowd noise subsided the queen began to lead her mare down the stairs. Lady Karen and I moved into position behind them but held back in the shadows of the doorway while they went down the landing ramp in a smooth manner. Mother kept her head up, never looked down at her feet and was guided by the queen as the descended toward the ground below.

“Watch your Mother and the Queen,” Lady Karen told me. “Your Mother isn’t looking down. She maybe out of practice but she’s still used to be our best mare and knows how to follow a lead. The Queen is telling her, in a whisper, how far out to put her foot in order to step down to the next rung of the ramp. Then when she’s in the right position the Queen is pulling down just slightly on the reins. It is the same training used for guiding a mare between the shafts when she’s harnessed and pulling a wagon or carriage. You and I both will have to learn all this very shortly. But try and trust me for now, I’m skilled at leading a mare; I’ve been doing it all my life.

“We are waiting until the Queen presents your Mother to the crowd and tells the crowd that the Queen’s mares are now re-united. Then she will stand near her carriage, the one with two seats and pulled by eight mares. The matched pair in front of the hitch is your Mother’s stallmate Cherry, with her reddish brown hair. Next to her is Cherry’s daughter Robin, also a red head. Robin is now the Princess’ mare but is being used for the ceremony today to have a matched pair in the lead position on the carriage team.”

We stood there and watched my Mother and the Queen and I watched how they moved together carefully, trying to be ready to do that myself for when I had to go down this ramp. Uniformed men, police officers or guardsmen were holding back the crowd which must have been in the thousands. Not as large as crowds I’ve seen in Chicago at almost any time of the day. But I realized that this was a lot of people gathered at one spot for a small island. And the crowd was diverse too. I could men and women in nice clothes standing around. But sprinkled around in a random mixture were naked women and naked women harnessed as mares. The mares were all in harnesses and could be spotted as being different from one another by colors of plumes or hair combs woven into or mounted on top of the tops of their heads on their bridles. But there were some carriage dotted about with mares hitched between the shafts and nicely dressed people sitting in seats of the carriages while they watch the Queen and my Mother coming down the landing ramp.

As I watched them step onto the tarmac and head for the Queen’s carriage I knew that what I had been told, as impossible as it all seemed to me at the time, was true. And my entire life spent as a child growing up in a suburb near Chicago suddenly seemed to evaporate. I was still that 18 year old girl in all respects to my schooling and learning and social graces. But all that was a lie and suddenly I felt a deep down rage toward my deceased Father. He took me away from the country I was born in, from the life I was going to lead here but didn’t think about the consequences of what would happen if anything went wrong. And it did go wrong, go horribly wrong by most people’s standards and I was faced with the task no girl my age should be faced with until she was old enough. Memories of growing up raced through me like lightning. They way my Mother cried when I brought home a Mother’s day card I had made at school and a pot holder to go with it. That memory stuck out because Dad never celebrated Mother’s day, nor a birthday for Mom, but there were always presents for him on father’s day and cards that I had supposedly given to him. The number of times we, Dad and I, went out together to a park, zoo, picnic or movies but Mom stayed home. Even to church, while she would go once in a while she didn’t go every Sunday like Dad and I did.

I realized that growing up I was daddy’s girl, in a way most of my friends never were. It was as if Dad was trying to move me away from my Mother, as if she would somehow be bad for me to associate with or get to really know. And the way Mom just hung back, as if waiting for something else to happen, something that would change things. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a good Mother to me, because I loved her and she always had time to just be with me when I needed her. But she wasn’t active in her own life, didn’t speak up or complain but didn’t get involved with the community around us either.

“The Queen is taking your Mother to her carriage first. She will take her to Cherry and let them have a moment together. Cherry is more than your Mother’s stallmate, as we say here on the island. Your Mother and Cherry are Mated Mares, or Maresmates. Think of it as a marriage, but it’s not that either. Six months before you were born Cherry and Nugget asked me, as the Queen’s Stable Mistress, to petition the Queen on their behalf to allow them to be united as Mated Mares. It’s a solemn vow and life long pledge between mares, usually as pairs on a team, that want to live their lives from that point on together always and never be parted. It’s a pledge to share whatever stall life has for them in the future and take care of each other, sharing every moment of the lives.

“I the marriage ceremonies throughout the world it comes closest to the phrase, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death does us part. They will grow old together and some day, turn to training other mares. No matter what I pretend to be as the Queen’s Stable Mistress, the real training is always done by the older mares turned trainers of other mares. Later, they will want to be in harness sometimes, for old time’s sake, but will be given a small cottage of their own to spend the rest of their days together.

“I hate to say it this way, because Sir Stephan was my brother and I loved him, but he not only stole the two of your from the stable he took your Mother’s life and happiness away from her. He was, from the technical stand point, a traitor to his own country and to all the people here.

“I’m sorry I had to say that to you. He was still the father you knew and loved. It was just that he got carried away by something when he should have thought it through. His legal wife, Lady Linda, now a mare named Smokedancer, couldn’t bare children. So when you and Robin were born your father violated the breeder’s agreement. He wanted the two of you two to raise as his daughters. Male children go to the men that breed a mare, to be raised as adopted sons of the men. Female children are automatically designated Mares and remain with their mothers. It might not be the best system but it works for us and has worked for over a hundred years now. But your Father became so obsessed that he did the unthinkable and decided to steal both you and Cherry, to smuggle you out of the country to raise you two as his children. It was just luck that your mother interrupted the deed and he ended up having to steal you and your mother and leave Robin behind.”

I looked down and saw my Mother almost up to the women she loved, which was the mare that she was also mated to by the order of the Queen. Now I knew where her sadness had come from and in the way she was just waiting. She had been waiting for her old life to begin again. And I also knew that for her that time must have been as hard as mine would soon become. I was glad for her, but I still wanted to run back inside the plane and fly back to the home I knew best.

Nugget:

I was thrilled as I felt the pull of the reins on my bit while the Queen led me toward Cherry. Oh, I know she was leading toward me to her waiting carriage, but I could only see my Maresmate, the woman, the human, female, mare I wanted to share my stall with…forever! And yet I was afraid. It had been sixteen long years. And I couldn’t help but wonder how she had coped during these missing years. Was their now another mare in her stall at night? Were they sharing the warmth of their naked bodies together? Touching and hold each other the way we had all those years gone by. Did a new mare keel at Cherry’s feet with her head between Cherry’s thighs. Did Cherry kneel to another? Did they share that wonderful, age’s old, headless embrace as each placed her head at the other’s pubic mound and shared the delights of female mares in heat? I knew I was out of shape and would take months before I could run with her again.

We, the mares of Saint Barts Island are all big women. I’m five foot eleven; I look down on my five six inch Queen. Cherry’s my height and we are not the tall slim types, either. We are robust and full bodied with strong arms and legs and mid sections, harden to perfection by the loads we carry behind us, from rocks out of a field to grain and vegetables to people in carts or carriages. And we do it well and with pride. But that was years ago and my stomach didn’t show the muscles there like the other mares around me. There was a tone and confidence about their bodies that I hadn’t seen in women anywhere in the U.S. So I was glad and afraid at the same time.

But then Cherry whinnied to me. Whinnied hello and neighed my name, Nugget. When I say whinny or neigh it’s not just an imitation of a horse or pony. It begins with the whinny or snort or a neigh and then has sounds that can be made with a bit in your mouth added. “Whinnyelom,” means “Welcome!” My name was “Neighugget!” Cherry called out in welcome to me and then snorted and shook her reins, making the bells hung on the reins for this occasion dance and jingle. Then she tossed her head and scraped the ground with her right foot.

She was saying to me in marespeak “Get over here gal and give me a hug. And hurry up about it.”

The queen laughed as she felt me try to move faster. “I know, Nugget. But We have Our people watching Us. You will not break training in front of the entire nation.” Well it wasn’t that much longer and then I was in front of Cherry close enough so that we cold press our bodies together. “Neighugged ou!” Cherry said that meant she wanted to hug me.

“Whiniee ou,” I replied. Meaning I wanted to hug her too.

But all we cold do was press ourselves together and feel our breasts touching, nipples to nipples and with a little motion our breasts rubbed on each other. I cold feel the metal of the round spring clamps that circled her nipples and held the nipple bells she wore as did all the rest of the team. A mare’s nipples are never pierced so they use round spring clamps for the bells at our chests for ceremonies. Nipples aren’t pierced because we are milked and nothing should interfere with milking of mare’s breasts. We turned our head and touched cheek to cheek and then we each stuck out our tongues as we touched them.

We played with the studded balls that were mounted on posts that pierced our tongues. I…we all speak with slight lisps, even when not bitted because of the way our tongues are pierced. At about and inch back from the tip of the tongue, each mare is pierced and a stud put in that has a surgical steel ball on top. The ball touches against our bits and keeps us from managing, somehow, to clearly speak words. So marespeak was evolved as our own way of talking to each other. And now our most intimate thing we could do right there was done as we touched and circled each others tongues while slipping our tongue balls together.

It was as close to a kiss as we could get. And we whinnied and neighed to each other saying, in our words, saying I love you, I missed you and I’m glad to be together again. Also we’ll never, ever leave each other again. I was so glad, so overjoyed that there had never in my life been a moment like this before or since.

But there Queen’s touch drew my head back and with the reins we moved back a few steps to give the crowd a better look at me. If you’re reading this somewhere “normal” and in a society that doesn’t allow for variations in nudity then you can’t know how wonderful I felt, naked and harnessed and reined as I stood with shoulder held by the single glove, breasts stuck out as far as nature would let them and the peoples eyes were on me.

“The Queen’s lost mare has returned!” Queen Pamela said with a flourish and in almost a shout. The crowd yelled in joy that totally surprised me. I cold feel myself blush. I was being honored but I had done nothing more then survive until I could get back home. But they acted like I had won a war single handed. And then Cherry dipped a knee and bowed her head and neighed my name in marespeak. And all the mares did the same and paid homage to me. Me? For what I didn’t know, but they did. And as the mares finished neighing they stood up proudly and whinnied for joy. And the crowd cheered again. I even detected some of the non-mares, the free women giving a whinny while the others cheered. And my blush deepened. All I wanted to do was get back to our stables and be alone with my Maresmate again.

As the crowd quieted finally Queen Pamela nodded to her daughter, Princess Julia, who had grown up to be a fine, attractive woman just like her mother, and the Princess step out of her four mare drawn coach and came other to join her mother and I. The young woman came up and hugged me, kissed my cheek, kissed her Mother too and turned to the crown.

“The Queen’s mare has returned,” she said solemnly. “But so has her daughter. Strawberry, The Princess’ lost mare is back too!” And the Princess turned to the door of the plane and pointed up to Lady Karen and my daughter as they stood at the top of the landing ramp ready to come down. I cold see the alarm, like a deer in the light, frozen in time that overwhelmed my daughter as she began to be led down the ramp. Thank God for the reins Lady Karen gripped firmly to keep her from tripping. I realized with a start myself that we hadn’t spoken to Strawberry about being the Princess’ mare. I wondered what she thought of that!

Strawberry:

I was about to lower my foot, with Lady Karen’s guidance, down to the first step of the landing ramp when I heard what the Princess said. Without the reins in Lady Karen’s grip I would have fallen all the way down and probably broken my neck. Somehow she held me up and kept it from looking too awkward, I hoped. I tried to look at her, but she held my head up and my eyes straight ahead.

“We should have told you,” she said. “But in the rush it was forgotten. I’m sorry if this is troubling you. When the King or Queen have mares bred then if the first born are female, new mares, and the Prince of Princess still young enough not to have chosen her own mares and teams, the new queen’s mare’s babies are designated as future Princess’ mares, knowing they will become Queen’s mares when the queen dies or steps down.

“The Princess is only two years older then you and on Saint Barts isn’t old enough, until she’s twenty-one, to own mares. So you are her designated mare along with Cherry’s daughter, Robin, the one standing next to her in the front hitch of the queen’s coach. You might as well also know that Sir Stephan bred both your mother and Cherry. Robin is your half-sister.”

I tried to say what else? But the bit made it into a lisp and slurred it all. I finally managed to say “Ore?” while putting down another foot on another step.

“No,” Lady Karen said. “That should be all the surprises for now, until we get back to the stable and begin your training. I really am sorry for the way this has all hit you so hard. I would undue everything my brother did in a heartbeat so it hadn’t happened this way.” She sounded truly sincere.

But that still left me in a tizzy as we managed, somehow to get down to the cement of the runway. I had never really been lead before, not like this anyway. The short walks in the house or out to the car or even into the plane were nothing. This was a long walk over the concrete toward were my Mother was waiting held by the Queen. I tried to get Mother’s elegant walk down as we moved. Mom had lifted each foot and glided it down on the ball of her foot first. I knew from when she taught me how to walk in high heels that this was the same motion dancers used when moving around on a stage, whether in heels or ballet shoes. Step down on the ball of the foot first and then lower the heel. But I had only worn heel a few times. I hoped I did well.

What un-nerved me though was all the people watching me. I WAS NAKED and in a harness, bridled and bitted like an animal but then that’s just what I was to all these people. A human, female mare. It was total turmoil for me. I wanted to do good but hated what my upbringing, such as it was, told me was degrading. And yet I had seen and heard just enough from the girl talk at high school that a lot of girls seemed to think submission, especially to boys, was okay. But this was total submission to everyone and anyone, because I was owned, actually owned by a woman. It wasn’t a copy of the man to women relationship that would be almost normal. It was a woman who owned me and not a lover who wanted sex with me. A small voice was telling me that by acting as totally submissive as I could was the only way to gain some measure of freedom as I became a trusted…mare. Then I could see what opportunities there were for me. Right now, with a whole country watching me, there were no options other then being what they wanted me to be, a human mare.

Then I was there, by Mom and the Queen and Lady Karen was handing my reins to the Princess. Every little girl I knew at home…well, in the U.S. had dreams of being a princess some day. But here I was close to a Princess but I was her horse. Not even a lady in waiting or a maid. I was a horse! Well, a mare anyway. Not close to a princess fantasy at all.

Cinderella never had it this bad. She didn’t have to be the horse that pulled her carriage, which is what I was about to become. So many people around me over the last day and a half seemed to accept this as natural or at least normal. Women and girls trained to pull carts or carriages like horses. I wondered what my girlfriends back home would say if they saw all this.

The Princess Julia took my reins in her hand, smiled at me and said, “Hello, Strawberry. Welcome back! You don’t remember me do you?”

I neighed.

“When you were very little, before you were stolen there was a little black girl who snuck into the Queen’s stable every chance she got and went and played in the nursery. I was that girl.”

Suddenly I did remember her, but only in images of playing in a nursery. Then I looked up at the Queen’s carriage and the younger of the two red haired mares and remembered her too as a child, all of us playing together. I can’t say I remembered all the small details. But it did make me feel closer to this new place then I had a few moment earlier. The Princess must have seen my look. She pulled the reins and led me to Robin. “Strawberry,” Princess Julia said. “This is your sister, Robin.”

I just stood there not knowing what to do when I felt the Princess’ hand in against my bond arms at my back pushing me forward until the fronts of our bodies touched. I remembered seeing how Mom greeted her mate, Cherry, a few minutes ago so I tried to touch cheeks with Robin. And our breasts rubbed and my nipples sprang to life on their own, becoming hard and stiff as our breasts rubbed with the motions we made trying to hug each other. Then I heard the jingle of the bells and looked down to see the ring clips on her nipples holding the bells. She was wearing nipple bells. And so was her mother and the rest of the team. And Robin shook her breasts and made the bells jingle. That motion set the bells on her reins ringing too.

Robin whinnied, the other mares whinnied and they shook their bells. Then they all whinnied like they had for Mom and suddenly the whole crowd was in the act by cheering or the mares whinnying and I was blushing so hard I thought my skin would burst. It was bad enough just being the way I was but being seen by everyone and then having them recognize me too? I wanted to be invisible. It would have been interesting to look at if it wasn’t me right there while all this was going on. Pictures out of some adult book might have been fun to look at but actually standing there in harness and bridle and bit was another thing.

Princess Julia moved me back so we stood next to Mom and the Queen and then she said, loudly, “The Princess’ missing mare has returned too!” Which just had to set off another round of cheering, by the crowd, of course! Why couldn’t they just have taken me to the stables they talk about and do whatever they wanted to me there in private. Why embarrass me this much. I tried to hide by turning toward the Princess and pressing myself against her. “It’s almost done, Strawberry,” she told me. “Even I cringe at some of these public ceremonies I have to endure. You won’t be noticed after your back in the stable. Just a few minutes more.”

Actually it was as soon as the crowd stopped cheering. The Queen and Princess led Mom and I to their carriages, Mom to the Queen’s and I to the Princess’ carriage as the Lady Karen followed to the Queen’s carriage. Mom tried to shy away from getting into the carriage. “Your mother has ridden in a carriage,” the Princess told me. “She has always been part of the team pulling the carriage or cart. Step up, Strawberry.”

I stepped up into the rear seat of the carriage and then found out I wasn’t going to sit, which I couldn’t do with my arms bound in that silly glove behind my back anyway. There were telescoping pipes that came up front and back an attached to the harness I was buckled in and the pipes and harness held me in place as I stood there. The Princess got into the front seat and picked up the reins to her team. I was surprised that she and the Queen were going to drive their own teams. But when you’re royalty of a small island you can do what you want. This ceremony was all about the mares so maybe they wanted to show how well they handle their mares to impress the crowd. It impressed me!

The human mares on both carriages moved out smoothly and I felt only a slight sway when the carriage moved. The Princess and Queen shook the reins and steered their mares around and down the runway until there was a side road leaving the airport. A wide main, paved road turned west and we cold see the palace and beyond that a small town. It was about a mile that we had to go before guardsmen opened the iron gates and we turned into a long, circular drive toward the huge two story mansion. But Queen and Princess steered the teams off to the right and onto a white gravel path that went around behind the palace building. There was a long, wide, single story, frame building that looked just like a very large stable. Wide open double doors with a crowd of mares and stable hands just waiting for us. My new home, I guessed and suddenly I was even more worried. Ever been a stranger walking into a girl’s locker room for the first time and seeing all the strangers changing into their gym uniforms. It was like that only much more erotic since these girls were human mares and were naked. Even the male stable hands, wearing clothes of course, seemed to take no notice of the nudity all around them. It was if it was quite normal for naked women to wear a harness and bridle and be led around on reins or fastened between shafts of carts, carriages or wagons.

As the carriages pulled up in front I saw two women, mares, being unhitched from a wagon. A real farm wagon, small enough for humans to pull but with a square box behind for a load and there was no seat for a driver. These women were led around by the reins clipped to the bits in there mouths and the harness for the wagon was thicker and more business like then the harnesses worn by the carriage team. This was for working in the fields and the two mares looked tired.

But then everyone in or around the stable seemed to descend on us and soon I was down from the carriage and being led into the stable and my new life as a mare. The Princess’ mare and I wondered what that was going to be like.