But all that changed when Sean and Horace walked in after a few hours.

“There she is, Horace. Don’t know what got into her.”

“Mighty strange.”

“Wake up, Prancer. We got a full day ahead.  Enough resting.”

“Why did you EVER do that?  We treat you so well! Huh?”

“Well, Master Sean, I…a…I…aaa…”

“Speak up, pony!”

No excuse would suffice, and she knew it.  “It was… an accident, sir.”

“An accident?  What kind of an accident?”

“The boy…he…musta thought my shoe was loose, and stooped down to fix it, or something.  And I didn’t see him, what with the blinders...and I kicked at a pebble…and…”

“Never mind.  What’s done…I trust you learnt your lesson these past two days?  Kicking a white man – a boy! – calls for drastic measures.  What if you had killed him?  You’d be dead now, bitch.  You know that.”

“Yessir.  I’ll be more careful…”

“Mind you do…now stand up.”

To Horace: “Had her fixed in a bad way these past two days.  Let’s get her refitted.”

“Right, Sean.  We got the cart and Chickey ready to go!  I’m glad Silas went for the deal...she’s some right nice pony!  Going to make a pretty pair.”

The three walked out to the side yard. 

“How’s that new corset on her?” asked Horace.

“I like it, and I think she does too.  That’s why I left it on these past two days, while she was being punished.  And I tightened it real good.”

“Tighter the better…”

 "Yeah, makes her titties stand out more,” grabbing a handful and smiling.  That and the posture strap.”  He pinched her nipple.

Cassie flinched.  He sure likes pinching things!

“Those two are going to make some pair,” repeated Horace.

“No – TWO pair!”  They both laughed out loud.

Cassie remained silent, wondering how human beings could be so cruel.

“There we are,” as they approached the tethered Chickey and her double cart.  Cassie didn’t expect this, but figured it was just another day. She had had only one other experience in tandem.  She was so glad all that nasty business was behind her now, and she was done with her punishment.

Chickey was another pretty slave.  Her tack was a bit different though than that to which Cassie was normally subjected.  For one thing, Chickey had long hair and, instead of a posture strap, her hair was attached to her tight waist belt.  Her arms were tied together in a different configuration as well – in the small of her back, they were hand-tied-to-elbow with wide straps.  Her bit was more traditional – almost like a real pony, to which the reins were attached – blinders were also attached to her head harness.

Her footwear was certainly different.  This pony girl was known for her beautiful posture, not in small part due to the fact that she wore leather boots made to resemble actual hooves.  These boots were fashioned to keep her on her toes, which accounted for her proud prance.  Cassie assumed with relief that this would slow her down, and, therefore, she also would be “galloping” slower.”

There was one oddity:  Chickey sported a ‘tail’, which seemed to be made of real horsehair.  It emanated from her buttocks and was not attached with any straps or the such.  It appeared to be…Cassie was shocked…It MUST to be attached to something up her behind somehow!  Would they do that? Ha!  Of course they would!  Put nothing past them. But how does it stay in?  She has no crotch strap…

“That there tail is spiffy!  Maybe we could cook something up for Prancer... so they look uniform...what do you, think Horace?”

“Way ahead of you, Sean.  Look what Silas gave me.”

“A tail of her own!  How nice!  Take off her crotch strap!”

Cassie soon found out how the tail stayed put.  The wooden rod to which it was attached sported a big knob, which, after they forced it up her anus, could only be removed by the pony’s pushing hard, like it was trying to defecate.  Of course, when Sean put the pretty tail in place, he didn’t fail to rub Cassie’s crotch a bit, and pinch her clitoris, as he was wont to do, smiling all the while at Cassie’s discomfort.

“There, Prancer!  Now don’t let that out when you’re running!  You won’t like what we do to you if you do!”

If Cassie could have been humiliated, she would have been, but she had seen everything in her life, and this was just one more mean thing.

She was led over to the cart, and a short strap was connected from her inner corset ring to Chickey’s counterpart, to keep them together while trotting.  Once in place, she unable to see her partner, for the blinders and her inability to turn her head due to the posture strap.

Although the girls were the same height, the newcomer’s ‘hooves’ made her stand taller, and, thus, the reins were generally at the same level, because Cassie’s were attached to her nose and Chickey’s to her mouth.

The surprise came to BOTH ponies when the boys proceeded to apply two supple leather sheaths to each of their inner legs, one melding their legs above the knee, the other below.  They now had three legs between the two them.

“There ya go!  No more kicking now, Prancer!  Here, we’ll walk you two about a bit.”

Guess the punishment ISN’T over!

The boys led the ponies about the field, getting them used to their new predicament.

"You’re going to be trotting quicker than that before you’re done, girls!”

"They expect us the RUN like this?  Suddenly she felt panic. This, and the anal tail, was a new shock to the system.

“Come on, pony girls, together now.  Up, down, up, down…thatta girl!”

Around and around the field they trotted, the boys helping them to synchronize their steps.  The process was difficult, but after some three hours, the two pony girls finally were able to trot together at a goodly pace.  Of course, a little prompting with a riding crop now and then hastened the learning process.  In any case, their inner legs were so tight to each other that they DID feel like they were one!

Chickey’s handicap of having to trot on her ‘hooves’ cancelled out Cassie’s breathing restriction caused by the corset, and they made a good team.  Cassie DID find it odd being hitched to another pony girl, and synchronizing with her steps, and never seeing her face, though!

She wondered what the solitary figure near the shanties was thinking and feeling, and a tear passed as she mourned the fact that she hadn’t seen her papa for some time now – she ached to have him hold her, and to tell him her sorrows.  What must he be thinking now about this strange three-legged pony girl duo!

After the training session, they were watered and their bits replaced.  Then they were tethered to a fence and left alone in the shade for a while.  Both dozed while standing, something they were used to.  They certainly couldn’t talk to each other, or even see each other. 

Suddenly, they were startled.  There was a rustling in the brush behind the tree.  Furtively, hesitantly, Cassie’s papa came toward her, his arms stretched out to her face, then stroking it.  Awkwardly, he then embraced her and said, “Oh my Cassie. Oh my little girl!  Thank The Lord that mamma didn’t live to see you this way.  My poor baby!  What they have done to you!”

Cassie moaned, and the Papa began to release her from her pear bit.  But she knew what would happen to him if he were caught, and began shaking her head.  God forbid he should suffer any more than he already had in his wretched life!  Nevertheless, she pined to speak to him.  So she eventually gave in to his persistence, and allowed him to remove the bit – it was difficult to remove, but, eventually, he managed.  The posture strap remained in place.

Flexing her mouth, then nuzzling his face, she spoke words of love and respect to her father.  Oh! If only she could embrace him!  “Oh Papa, oh Papa!  I’ll be all right.  I am strong!”

“Papa, no one is here, and you’ve gone this far – could you take the bit off my partner?  And our blinders?  I want to talk to her.”

Looking around, “Yes, my child.  Gladly.”

Cress unbuckled the bridle bit from Chickey’s mouth, and removed her blinders; the girl shook her head and worked her mouth.  “Thank you, sir.”

“We can’t talk long, Chickey – Is that your real name?”

“Yes -- Chickey.”

“How long you been a pony girl?”

“I think is has been six years now.  It’s been horrible, but there are times, especially after I won a race, where is hasn’t been too bad.”

“Those shoes – you’re on tiptoe!”

“Yes, I've been wearing these for two seasons now.  They don’t take a long time to get used to – not as difficult as they look!  But this three-legged thing is worse,” testing their common leg. 

“I suppose this came about because I kicked a little white boy a while back.”

“Yes, I heard Master taking about it.  For kicking a white boy they kill slaves!  You ought to count your blessings!”

“No, they didn’t want to do that, I suppose, but I’ve been punished, believe me.”  She explained what she had endured.   Papa winced – he looked so sad.

“We did pretty good on that three-legged thing, eh?” she said to Chickey.

“Good thing, they would’ve found another way to teach us - probably much worse that whipping!”

“You been ‘foaled’?”

“Yes – twice.  I’ll never forget that stud stallion!”

“Stallion?”

"Oh yes!  ‘Storm’ – pony man.  Bound like us.  Big…in more ways than one!” She smiled.

Cassie smiled back.  “You girl…”

Cress interrupted, “Gotta tie you back up. I hear them…”  With that, he quickly replaced their bits and blinders, much to the girls’ consternation.  The pear bit was slow going, but he finally managed without pinching her tongue too much more than he had too in his rush.  Cress felt dismay forcing the diabolical gag into her mouth it, trying not to hurt his daughter. 

Well, I guess I saw my partner, anyway!  Bye, papa, as he kissed her on the forehead and quickly disappeared into the brush, just in time.

“Gave you two some rest!  Now we’re going for ride with a load,” said Sean.

The boys unhitched the team and led them into the field.  Then they got into the cart, and Sean grabbed the reins, “Go, ponies!”

The girls began the laborious pull, tying to overcome the inertia, while tending to the synchronization of their middle legs.  It was difficult, but, once they were moving, easier than a single cart.  Nevertheless, the concentration, which had to be devoted to their legs, made up for the ‘ease.’

They stumbled a few times, still not quite used to the hobbling effect of the three-legged configuration, but they recovered, especially since they were urged on by the insistent sting of the riding crop.

As they trotted through the gate and down the road toward town, their footing became more and more confident, and they fell into a rhythm that, somehow, seemed comforting.  The ‘third leg’ almost seemed independent, as Chickey’s constant movement carried her along, and forced her, almost effortlessly to continue.  Cassie’s breathing was rhythmic, as she had accustomed herself to her corset and the different method of inhaling and exhaling required to get enough air.

Three miles, later, they were entering town, amidst stares from the townsfolk. 

“Show-prance, ponies!” yelled Sean, rippling their reins.  “Look proud!”  And so the effort of trotting was replaced by the effort of high stepping.  Which, in some ways was even more difficult, not only because of the third leg, but because their tail knobs were apt to come out without concentration (God forbid!) – there was much to concentrate on for these hapless pony girls!  Cassie found show prancing even more difficult, as the high stepping caused her corset to be pushed upwards, and into her breasts, which was painful.  This process caused a jerky movement up and down of her tassels, which pleased the boys, who didn’t hesitate to issue raunchy and degrading comments.

And they DID look proud, as they paraded though the main street of Beaufort, heads high, tassels swinging, tails erect, their show prance even more impressive with their third leg, astonishing all who observed.  The two pony girls almost seemed to take pleasure in the effort!  Then again, what other ‘pleasure’ did they have in their wretched, pitiful lives?

They were quite a show for the hoop skirted, corsetted Southern ladies, with the fine hats, stopping to gape from the wooden sidewalks from where they traveled from shop to shop, some escorted by well-dressed Southern gentlemen.  None seemed empathic to their plight – most assumed the slaves were enjoying giving them this show – FINE ponies!

Among the onlookers was little Mrs. Brady.  Her boy had recovered from the kick in the head, but she was still angry at the kicking incident, and looked forward to the nigger’s demise next year. Serve her right, uppity nigger!  But she sure looks good in that rig!  Shouldn’t hook her up like that with a GOOD nigger – might contaminate her.  But the loss of her right leg to the common effort surely must aggravate her. Good punishment until she is put out of her misery. She smirked.

The angry, bitter lady kept walking, and didn’t look back.

But Cassie saw her despite her blinders as they came though a small bend in the street.  She didn’t know that this was the mother of the little boy that had caused her all that misery, even to that day.  Strange how streaks of consciousness intersect, and one never can recognize them.

As they got to the other side of town, they were relaxed into a standard trot.  Cassie was grateful for the relief to her breasts (they were red and abraded by this time), but she was extremely tired at this point. Her corset felt like a vise and her mouth as if stuffed with peeled lemon.  She was so thirsty!  If only she could put her head forward and sleep for a while – the position enforced by the posture strap was SO demanding!  If only she could lie down and place her hands under her head and slumber without the infernal rod through her nose!  And without having to hold the tail up her backside.  She sighed the sigh of the forlorn.

So when the boys tied their pony team to the hitching post in front of the cobbler’s, the poor girl practically fell asleep standing up, which was not really unusual.  So good…so nice…ahh…

CHAPTER FIVE