"I think Sirius should cover Turquoise, don't you?" Said Hannah. "You can see he loves her." Turquoise' ears pricked up at this, and she tried to catch a glimpse of Sirius' reaction, but he was yoked down too tightly. She whinnied a bit in approval. Love was nice human abstraction, but a cock was tangible.
"I don't know." Said Emily. "I don't like to encourage that sort of thing with ponies. Anyway, he's new."
"But see how he looks at her? And he's done very well on the course."
"Yes, yes." Emily sounded exasperated. "But remember Draco? He was so desperate for Dolly, and we let him cover her, and then he was just unmanageable. Remember?"
"Oh, I know, I know you're right," said Hannah. She lit a cigarette and took a long, wistful drag of it. Turquoise could smell the phosphorous of the match, pungent, and then the rich smell of tobacco. "Still, I think it would be a fine sight. Turq raising her tail for that cock, god. She wants it now - don't you girl? But she would be howling if she got it."
"Yes," said Emily. She walked over to lean on Turquoise' stall door, and rubbed at the ponygirl's neck with one hand. Turquoise curled her head demurely to let the massage proceed. "He would rip her a new cunt to race with. You can't put a number ten peg in a number five hole, Hannah."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. Want some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you."
Hannah stubbed out her cigarette, and went into the office to get some coffee. Turquoise could smell her pouring it, the bittersweet flavor erasing the tobacco from her nostrils. She pawed at the ground. So I don't have a warehouse vagina like Magda. Sue me. But let the ponyboy have some fun, please.
"Cream and one sugar?" called Hannah from the office.
"Yes." Hannah brought the coffee back out to their coffee table, and Emily stopped massaging the ponygirl. Hannah lit another cigarette as Emily sipped the coffee. "Ooh," she said approvingly, "you're well trained."
"Well, I should be, working for you." Said Hannah drily.
"Ah. It's different with grooms." Emily shrugged philosophically. "Take you, huh? You smoke too much. You have lousy grammar. And you drive a pimped-out Honda."
"We are not making fun of The Skankmobile." Said Hannah, untouched by these reproaches.
"Ok. You drive a widely loved and respected vehicle, a unique vehicle, a vehicle with personality - that looks like NASCAR on opium."
"Much better. Apology accepted."
"My point is, if you were a pony, I could fix all that in one day. Right? Am I right?"
"Well…"
"And then the next day I'd have you working on something constructive, like the high jump. Which you'd be excellent at. Am I right?"
"No."
"Come on, Hannah, you'd look great in hoof-boots, you know it…"
"Sexual harassment, boss. I'll put in a complaint to Maxon, eh?"
"Oh, good point. But am I right?"
"Yeah, you're right. But mostly you're just pissy because you don't have any new ones to break."
"There's Sirius."
"Yeah, but we broke him in too fast."
"Oh, he still has a lot to learn. We haven't even broken him to harness."
"Yeah, yeah, but admit it, you like a virgin. You want to strip down a human in the tack barn, and walk out with a freshly branded pony, a pony still crying human tears."
"There's Melissa." Said Emily, mischievously, sipping her coffee.
"Melissa?"
"The college student. The one who came here."
"Christ, Em, what makes you think she's going to call you up and be like 'Hey, thanks for the field trip,'" Hannah mimicked a valley-girl voice, complete with the head-bobs and the one-handed cell phone "'The human thing isn't working out. Can you stick a bit in my mouth, please, please?'"
"I think she will."
"Yeah, you have enough overconfidence to hammer the nail into, Em."
"Well, I think she will. Bet?"
"Sure. I bet…I bet she doesn't call you at all, but I can't win that one, huh? I bet she doesn't call you by Christmas. And no fair trying to contact her."
"Scout's honor." Said Emily very sincerely, holding up two fingers. "If I win, you have to start coming to work in a real car."
"Ooooh," said Hannah. "If I win, you have to let Sirius cover Turq."
"Ok."
Hannah had gotten Sirius into - it seemed - every piece of tack she had come across. He was wearing an English bridle with a rather ornate curb bit, and his arms were bound together in a leather sleeve, which was in turn buckled to three leather straps that ran around his chest. Two more straps were buckled to the tops of his thighs, and these were joined to the straps above them by heavy leather bands that ran along his flanks. Finally, Hannah had threaded a strap between his legs, first pulling his tail through a metal ring, and then pulling his genitals through a second such ring. She stopped to apply a little lubricant around the base of his cock and balls, where the ring fitted against them.
"Stops the chafing." She said, knowingly. "David forgot once, on Orion, and he couldn't cover a mouse for a week." She pulled up hard on this last strap, and buckled it into place. "There now. Full carriage gear. You look wonderful."
Sirius thought he looked absurd, but the moment he stepped out into the corridor, he changed his mind. All the ponygirls were craning their necks at him admiringly, as if they had been saying to each other 'Yeah, he's cute, but can you dress him up?' In Turquoise's smiling eyes, Sirius saw at once that the answer was 'yes.' He felt so happy he could have burst the sleeve and straps that held him. He felt like he could haul a stone boat. Hannah laughed at him, sensing this, and led him into the carriage house.
The carriage house was adjacent to the barn - actually part of the same structure, although they had to go outside to get from one to the next. It was a single room, quite simple, with a loft set on bents rather than the massive swing beam of the main barn. On the floor of the carriage house were four or five carriages which, it seemed, had seen recent use. All around them, in glowering piles of dust and cobwebs, were dozens of other conveyances, some of them quite literally stacked on top of each other. There was a huge ox-cart, with wheels as wide as a man, up on blocks. An ornate Russian troika sat on top of it, fairly dilapidated. There were bicycles and tandem bicycles and even a farthing-ha-penny, none of which could have been ridden by any pony. (Beyond them, Sirius made out a tractor, and the gleaming lines of a "Phantom II" Rolls Royce. Maxon's weekend car, perhaps.
The loft was piled so thick with old vehicles and parts of vehicles that it seemed to be in some danger of collapsing, and Sirius was glad that they weren't standing under it. He directed his attention to the few things that had obviously been used recently - not counting the Silver Ghost.
The largest of these was a rather traditional Victoria coach, with a swooping, graceful, foot-board. Someone had been re-oiling the leather and seemed to have given up halfway through. There was a complex arrangement of shafts and traces so that it could be pulled by four ponies - quite enough, Sirius thought, for something so light and delicate. Ominously, each position on the lower shafts was occupied by a thick leather phallus. Whatever ponygirls had to pull the Victoria, they would be putting their whole bodies into the work.
There was also a phaedrus with a half-roof, for rain, which Chessy often pulled when Maxon had guests. There was a simple dray for hauling things, which had no attachments at the moment but could probably be hauled by any number of ponies. Hannah was not interested in these. She wheeled out a very lightweight road cart, almost a rikshaw, with two long, supple shafts. Sirius was positioned between them, and they buckled into the straps that ran along his hips. In the aged darkness of the barn, he wondered how many other ponies had stood here between these shafts, like himself, eager and terrified. Not a few, he thought.
"This is Maybelline." Said Hannah, opening one of the two sliding carriage doors. "We call her that because her wheels aren't true." She laughed, but Sirius didn't get the joke. "She's not a racing cart anymore, but she's actually good for breaking in colts and fillies. We wouldn't want to make things too easy too soon."
Hannah fastened long reins to either side of Sirius' bit, and took her place in the cart. He sucked at the bit, awaiting this new violation. So far the bit had only been an annoyance, an intrusion. Now it would become a means of communication. She had a long, flexible whip, which she used to flip a few strands of Sirius' tail off one of the shafts.
"All right." She tugged at the reins demonstratively. "This is left, this is right, this is stop, and if I kept doing it, it would mean reverse, right? Very simple. If I crack the whip, speed up. If you feel the whip, and you're pulling me solo, it's almost always because you aren't lifting your hooves high enough? Got it?"
It seemed very simple.
"It's very simple by oneself." Hannah added. "Add three or four ponies, and try to back a hay-wagon into the barn, and you have a lot more to think about. Today, I just want you to get a feel for being in the harness. Now, let's go!" She popped the whip beside his ear, and he sprinted forward, then decided he was not being called upon to sprint and slowed to a walk, out into the bright light of the home pasture.
"Easy, boy!" Hannah laughed. "That's it." She stopped talking, guiding him to the track with little tugs on the reins. The gig seemed very light, even with Hannah in it, and when they got up onto the smooth ground of the track, it seemed even lighter. There was a constant, odd tug on his hips. It felt, in a way, as if the phallus thrust into him was attached to a man whose hands were on his hips. But there was little sense that he was pulling a heavy weight.
With a snap of the whip, Sirius was jolted up into a trot, and they made lazy circles around the track, Emily only occasionally tugging on his left-side rein to round the corners, or snapping him gently to remind him to lift his feet. After a few rounds, she stopped him, and wheeled him around, and then ran the track in the other direction, faster and faster. Sirius loved it. On the corners, he could lean to take the gig up on two wheels, and Hannah yelped with delight. It was the most fun he had since arriving.
Suddenly there was a fury of lashes against his ass, making him bellow, and he came to a stop. He realized that Hannah had been signaling left, but the track turned to the right. He looked back her, confused.
"Never make assumption when you're in the harness. If we are running towards a river, and I don't signal you to turn, then I want you to run through the river. Got it? Now, we are going off the track, aren't we?"
With his ass still smarting, Sirius turned up the hillside. Across rough, grassy ground, going uphill, he thought that Hannah was quite a significant weight to pull. At last they came up to the high driveway, which snaked down the hill in three lazy switchbacks, and for the first time since the day he arrived, Sirius saw Maxon's house.
It was built like the barn, and probably around the same time, although there had definitely been a great deal of work done on it since. Massive, stone-walled, with a lovingly complicated roofline, it seemed to dominate the valley like a crown on the landscape. The hillside it was built into was not all that steep, but on the down-hill side, there was a wide stone patio - actually arched underneath, Sirius saw, panting - so that by the end of the patio there was a fairly significant drop-off. It gave the house a majestic feeling.
Hannah directed Sirius straight onto this patio, which seemed almost as large as the house itself. There were several hitching posts, and she got off and tied Sirius up to one. Emily lay sunbathing in a bathrobe and Hollywood-starlet sunglasses, and Maxon himself was sitting in an Adirondack chair, smoking a pipe and doing a crossword puzzle. He rose to greet Hannah.
"Good morning. You've got Sirius in the harness, I see."
"First time out."
"Fine, fine. How is he?"
"Oh, he'll be great. I want to see him on the phantom."
What's the phantom? They can't mean the Silver Ghost.
"Don't worry. Everything in its time."
"How does he pull?"
"He's favoring the right a little bit." Hannah was checking to make sure the ring around his jewels was still lubricated. The attention made Sirius half-erect, much to his embarassment. Maxon smoked his pipe, observant but unresponsive. "It's nothing we can't fix with an ankle weight. And he weighs one-sixty-four, so I think we could match him with Chessy."
"Mmm, yes. Is his weight stable?"
"Yes. He dropped three pounds the first week, but everyone does."
"Yes."
"Turq lost a few pounds," said Emily, without stirring. "I think she's becoming a picky eater."
"Well, if you catch her at it, give her hell." Said Maxon.
"My pleasure."
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get my lunch."
"All right, carry on."
And Hannah left.
It was rather cold, and snow was starting to fall. Tomas had put Turquoise and Minka out in the far pasture, wearing heavy woolen coats. Then he had gone back in to the barn, and Minka immediately gave Turquoise a sly look.
Well yeah, girl, of course.
Minka nuzzled her head under Turquoise' tail, as if to warm her exposed face. Her lips felt wonderful on Turq's chilled labia. The rubber bit held her tongue firmly back in place, so Minka could work only with her lips, nibbling along the labia slowly, as if Turquoise was a Popsicle, which in fact she felt a bit like. Receiving these caresses, Turquoise waved her head luxuriantly, to dissipate the pleasure, to draw it out. Soon she was molten under her tail, her hips rocking back and forth, the strands of her tail slapping gently against Minka's neck.
Hoofbeats and cart-wheels approached them. Ah, hell, we're busted. But don't stop. The other pony must have shared the sentiment, because she moved quickly down to Turq's little clitoris, kissing it, fluttering her lips against it. As Sirius trotted into view with Emily in tow, Turquoise groaned with joy.
"Scram, Minka!" Emily was shouting, as the gig wheeled off the track and tore towards them. "What are you doing?" Minka did indeed make a break for it, and Emily wheeled the cart around to chase her, lashing out with her long buggy-whip. Turquoise watched Sirius respond deftly to this rapid series of changes in speed and direction.
How wonderful. Already he's found his pony-mind for harness racing. He isn't trying to control the cart anymore, he is letting Emily control through him. He isn't blocking the flow...how quickly he learns!
Emily was in a fury, landing several quick blows on Minka's ass as she galloped up the hillside where the cart could not chase her. Finally Emily wheeled around to return to Turquoise, who paced uneasily away. She couldn't escape, of course. She and Minka were caught, they would be punished. That didn't matter. She looked into Sirius' eyes, past the blinkers. Was he upset? No. A little envious, that was all, but not upset. So there was no problem.
"Turquoise, don't stand there looking so pleased." Emily hauled back on the reins and hopped off the cart, crunching across the snow to Turquoise and grabbing her by the hair. "All right, old mare, you've had your fun for the morning." She pulled an alcohol pen from her pocket, and yanked the cap off in her teeth. Using Turquoise's whole back as a page, she scrawled some message, and then slapped her rump, hard.
"Get back to the barn, don't make me whip you all the way there."
Now that's not fair, Turquoise thought, bounding past Sirius, who was bulging under his winter-harness. Why do I have to get written on and look ugly? She never does that. I bet she won't do it to Minka. Ah, and now Minka will think I owe her one.
She made it back to the barn. The door was shut, of course, but she banged on it with a heavy fore-hoof. Might as well get this over with.
Ingrid opened the door.
"Well, well, Turq. What sort of trouble did you get into?"
She shrugged, prancing past her into the barn. Ingrid got some reins and brought her out onto the threshing-floor, where she tied the ponygirl down beside the potbellied stove. It felt wonderfully warm after the cold, overcast weather. She sprawled out on the floor beside it, getting covered in sawdust and sneezing. Well, she was going to be punished anyway.
"I see you've been insubordinate." Said Ingrid casually. She went to the cupboard where she kept her tools, and selected a thin aluminum rod, no more than a wire, really, which Turquoise had never had to face personally. She had seen, though, the crisp black lines that it left on Draco's buttocks, and she felt the familiar panic of knowing that she could not possibly bear what was to come, and that she had no choice.
The first blow landed like a paper-cut from hell. Turq was not so well tied that she couldn't struggle, but soon her struggles her tangled her in a position which was, of course, no more defended than any other. She kept struggling with her voice, giving it full tether to do what it had to do, to tear the peace and quiet of the barn apart. But she was not going to cry.
"Its not that you're so bad…" Ingrid said between blows. "In fact, you're a model ponygirl…you know that…I know that…but the yearlings don't know it…unless you show them."
"Hey, Ing." David's voice interrupted. She hated him momentarily, for making her pause. Turquoise liked the torture to come and go without lunch breaks. But when she heard him continue, she did begin to weep, with relief. "You should probably ease up. She's going in to the vet this afternoon."
Maxon sent his ponies in to the veterinarian once a month, a rather insane expense. Turquoise was fairly sure that the consortium only required ponies to go in quarterly, before they started invoking their various forms of international discipline, from the "concerned suggestion" to the "public humiliation" to the "team of armed men destroying your ranch and appropriating your livestock." But Maxon sent his ponies in monthly. The ride was so long, and the veterinarian so thorough, that Turquoise felt sure Maxon's motive had more to do with sadism than overwrought concern for her well-being.
The big trailer could take six, so she went in with Sirius, Minka, Ayesha, Dolly and Scorpio. After an exhausting ride, on their best behavior under Ingrid's baleful stare, they reached the vet, whose office must have been located as far from human civilization as it is possible to live in central Canada. And that's pretty goddamn far, thought Turq, who had been a New York girl a million years ago, and lived as pony for two years in the suburbs of Amsterdam.
"All right!" Ingrid barked. She loved being the top dog, when Emily wasn't there. "Off the truck, and no funny business at the vet's."
They were led into the waiting room, where Ingrid and David - who had been driving - tethered them one by one around a large table. The table was covered with magazines and, inexplicably, a restraunt-sized pepper mill. Maybe the vet took his meals out here.
In one corner of the room, a kittengirl crouched inside her cage. She was naked except for her belled collar. And she talked. As soon as the grooms had taken Ayesha in and left the rest of them alone she whispered "Are you ponygirls? Real ponygirls? And ponyboys, too, I mean?"
With spontaneous coordination, all five of them looked the other way. Even Sirius, Turq noted to her delight. Fucking animals that talk. Why do they bother?
"Can't you talk?" the kitten asked sadly. She was blonde, and had hair up in cute little blue barrettes. She didn't seem to believe that these ponies - who had no visible bits or gags - were incapable of speaking. "I'm from Edmonton. Where are you from? How come some of you have two legs and some have four?"
And so it went for ten minutes or so. At length the kitten shut up. Minka sprawled across the magazines and fell asleep. Orion came back, and the grooms took Sirius in, and then Scorpio. Turquoise was fourth. Whatever happened to 'ladies first?'
Maxon's vet was an elderly, dark-skinned Jewish man with an Arabic name: Hazim. He did his usual routine, in his usual impenetrable accent.
"Hello, Turquoise. I can see you've been disobedient recently, eh?" He gently smoothed a hand across her welts.
"All right. If you're unhappy, you'd like to retire, please to stomp three times…..not, eh? If you want to continue on as a ponygirl, please to stomp three times."
Stomp, stomp, stomp. Vastly important, of course, but the ritual always made her impatient. It reminded her of some bizarre parliamentary procedure.
"Right, well then you see. Open the mouth…yes…the right ear…the left ear. Miss Jonson, please take out the mare's tail." There was that hideous moment of removal, and Turquoise squirmed. The vet circled her to examine her nether parts with his complete toolbag, as Ingrid washed off the phallus in the nearby sink.
"Yes, yes. Raise the foreleg, please." He examined her nipple-rings, and then carefully probed her breasts. Repeat on the other side. Satisified, he jabbed a needle into her buttocks, making her wince, and took a small sample of blood, which went in the fridge. He was back with the accursed little jar. For Turquoise, who did not much mind needles, this was always the hardest part.
"Please to give us a sample, Turq."
Wrenching up her face into a tight little ball, she managed to half-fill his jar. He seemed satisfied and went to set on his swivel chair.
"La. She is fine of course, except for the welts and this that she is losing weight. But her blood work is all fine, everything is fine. I took the stool sample last month, she hasn't any worms. I don't think she is any kind of sick. Does she eat properly?"
"No. I think she's in love." Said Ingrid.
"Oh, so it is." The vet bared his teeth and sucked some air in over them. "Well, I could give her some mood stabilizers." No, you bastard. You wouldn't dare. Anyway, it wouldn't work. She was surprised at her own outrage. She didn't want to be in love, did she? It wasn't pony-like. But, but...it did not matter, the vet was continuing: "But I think they might make her listless, yes? If she loses a little weight, this is no problem. Only when she goes below 62 kilograms, then you call me up, yes?"
"So what should we do?"
"Do what you normally do, eh? Separate them. Get her mind on a different stallion. La…it's a ponyboy she's in love with, not a groom or another ponygirl."
"Yeah, that's right. Sirius, the one you just saw."
He raised his bushy eyebrows a bit. "He is also in love with her?"
"Definitely."
"More of a problem, then. I would put them at different ends of the barn."
"I'll tell Emily."
"Bring in the next one."
Seething, Turquoise was led back out to the waiting room, where the kitten was describing a movie she had just seen to the ponies.