I rode home trying to think, without much success. There was time spent with my neck twisted, inspecting my second pony-to-be, Judy. She trotted along easily enough, being careful to keep her bridle slack, but she wasn’t anything like ‘even’ in her stride. She’d speed up, slow down, or swerve a bit. Judy wasn’t a trained pacer at all. My thinking was mostly wasted on admiring her figure, looks, and the charming way her breasts bobbled as she trotted. I also noticed that she wasn’t half trying, at this speed - just lazing along. If I faced front I saw the blonde ‘monkeys’, striding along in their strained positions, elbows almost meeting behind them and heads held very erect due to the straps. And I had to spend time admiring Malua - I didn’t know whether jealousy was a factor but I had enough sense to realize any female would bridle if ignored long. When I could tear myself away from the eye-candy fore, aft and abeam, I thought about what to do, how to go about training my gorgeous pair of ‘Radiants’. I realized I had no place to put them.

"Malua, I’m without a place of my own as yet. I hate to impose further on your family, but is there room in your father’s stalls for both Suhanee and Judy?"

"Jim, dear, you are not imposing. You are a man, and you’ve seen how scarce men are here. My family is absolutely delighted to do everything we can for you, and the reason you haven’t been torn apart by other families trying to get you to stay with them instead is that my father is the Chief. But there’s just barely room in the stable. We have six small box stalls and one larger one, while most families have just two or three depending on their team. Dad’s team fills three, the family’s team two more, the monkeys have to share the big one, so there’s just one spare stall for your Radiants. We could build more stalls, but not before the big race. Everyone is busy training."

"Could I double my team up in one small stall? I don’t know how all this works, yet. Suhanee doesn’t have anywhere to go since she’s an orphan, but Judy’s supposed to go to her aunt Cynthia’s at night. But your mom talked about having to stay in a stable all the time."

"It’s really up to you. There’s room in a stall for two ponies during the day, if you don’t mind making them become really close friends. I jam these three (she indicated her team) into one big stall. Suhanee’s a special case since she has no home, usually girls go home at 6 and come back 12 hours later, ready for pulling, or to be trained or whatever else you require. The custom is that half a girl’s time is her own during the week, and all her weekends, but you can decide to keep your pony in stable all the time while you train them - some girls just don’t train well unless they’re constantly in harness and under discipline. Judy may turn out to be that way."

"If Judy needs to be kept in, just do it, everyone will understand and nobody will question you. Suhanee will have to sleep on a cot in a stall for now, the house is full with you in it. But she shouldn’t mind, and if Judy’s there too she can occupy another stall at night. Dad’s team goes home all the time - they don’t need any correctional work! - and I don’t think I’ll have to keep any of these monkeys in punishment harness at night." Malua flipped the reins to emphasize that remark to her speeding team, which didn’t - couldn’t - respond in any way but must have heard.

"Your problem is deciding how to train your two Radiants, and then doing it quickly. The big race is in just three weeks, so you and Joanne are going to have to bear down hard and brook no nonsense. I can’t offer much advice about Judy. She’s all of 20, and others have tried to get her used to bridle, bit and quick response, but from what her mother says she just resists like crazy, wriggles out of her restraints, and is a real handful." I looked back. Judy apparently was hearing all this, but not reacting. She was still keeping up her uneven but unlabored pace, not even breathing hard. As I watched she skipped a couple of times and did a little cross-kick.

"Just do what you think you have to, I don’t hold out much hope but maybe you’ll hit on something. Judy has to become completely tuned to your commands, you can’t have her doing what she wants. A team can’t work unless they work exactly together, responding to a competent driver." Well, I knew that from my sailing experience, ‘haul away’ means ‘haul away together’.

"And you will have your hands full with your ‘monkeys’, won’t you?"

"Yes I will. We aim to take the grand prize this year, they all want the right to wear jeweled slippers, and it’s Gail’s last chance. But with a three-up hitch, the driver has to have exact control or lose. It’s much harder than driving a pair. I’ll be around, and you can ask me anything, Jim dear, but the actual training is going to be up to you and Joanne. She’s quite good, you can depend on her, but the direction has to come from you."

"Yes, I saw that she’s strict enough, the way she roped Suhanee right back up as we left. She’s certainly a firm one."

"This is Joanne’s last year as a groom before she becomes a pony. She’s getting a lot of stuff out of her system now. She and Suhanee go back quite a ways, and although they are good friends something tells me they go beyond that. Watch Suhanee’s eyes when Joanne is harnessing her. It’s as though Suhanee is floating off somewhere."

Malua told me more about training and racing as we journeyed back to town. The races were over several distances from sprints to cross-country trials of ten miles, there were also contests something like cart-driving in the outside world where precise maneuvering and backing up were important, the girls had to show off several distinctive gaits, and there was also a beauty contest.

"It all sounds very complicated. How are the winners chosen?"

"Each team enters each event. Events have points assigned, and the winning team is the one that places highest in the most difficult events. When my team won, two years ago, we beat everyone else in the longer races, placed second or third in the sprints, second in dressage, and (here Malua blushed prettily) first in the beauty contest."

"I’m not surprised about that, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And the winners get to wear jeweled slippers, like yours. What else?"

"Oh, that’s quite enough. Dr. Mac has told us about the OW’s ‘Olympics’, where winners get a gold medal. Gold’s plentiful here, so it wouldn’t mean much, but winning the jeweled slipper is like a ticket to paradise. Since there are so many more girls than boys there’s intense competition between us females for the best mates. Wearing the jeweled slippers just about guarantees a girl can get the man of her choice, because winning means she’s fast, very pretty, and excellently trained - our men like wives who will usually do as they’re told. As our marriage ceremony shows." (And again, Malua blushed.)

"But Malua, you have the slippers, you are beautiful even by the high standards of this place, and yet you aren’t married, two years after you won the prize. Why? Or is that too personal? I’m still so ignorant of your customs, so you’ll have to excuse me if I say something inappropriate."

"Oh, Jim, we have almost no taboos here. You can ask about anything, people here don’t offend easily. Especially when you are from the OW. We believe there are no stupid or wrong questions, except the ones that aren’t asked. I’m not married for a very simple reason - I hadn’t met anyone I cared that much for. Women compete for the few men here, but it doesn’t mean we’re pushovers. It’s considered quite acceptable to not marry; over half of us don’t, after all."

"Hadn’t met?"

"Hadn’t. Maybe things are changing." and the blush continued, while Malua changed the subject by using her light carriage whip to slightly correct Gail’s stride. She could lay that fine ribbon of a lash on a flank, rear or shoulder of her team with the gentlest touch, just tickling, and the effected pony would pick up her knees more (as Gail just had) or get in closer step or whatever else needed correcting.

"Why not just tell Gail what you wanted, there? I admire your expertise with that whip, but wouldn’t it be simpler to talk to her?"

"It’s mostly a matter of body language. Gail needed to step a bit higher, to match Renee and Marie. She should do it unconsciously, so touching the body part that needs correction is a more direct way of training than talking to her. Besides, in racing it’s often hard to hear, so ponies must be very used to physical commands, very sensitive to touches. Our best drivers never talk to their teams at all, just jiggle the reins or lay the whip on."

"Gee. Well, that brings me to another question. Your team is composed of intelligent girls, at least they look smart and lively. Why not just tell them where you want to go and sit back? Why go to all the trouble of controlling them?" I got a long, uncomprehending look from Malua.

"Do what?"

"Just tell them. ‘Girls, take us to Tatts.’ They know the way, surely. They aren’t dumb horses, they’re people."

"Oh, my, Jim. I keep forgetting how strange the OW must be. Why on earth would anyone want to let ponies drive themselves? They’d get out of step, they’d go at a speed you didn’t want, and they might stop to gossip or… or… anything. It’s... It’s... unimaginable. Driving well is a challenge and very interesting. You haven’t tried it yet so you wouldn’t know, but we don’t do this just because it’s a convenient way of getting around. It’s fun!

"Watch as we follow this turn coming up. If I just hollered ‘hey, turn right’, or "follow the road", the team wouldn’t do it together, and one or more might not hear me. Even if they did, Marie, the offside right pony, has a tendency to veer at the start of a turn, while Gail and Renee don’t. And in those #4 training harnesses they’ll have trouble seeing how tight the bend is - the poor things can’t turn their heads or look down, strapped and bitted as they are. They should all turn at the same time, with Gail speeding up while Marie lags a bit to stay perfectly in line through the curve, and they have to stay in step of course. I’ll make that happen now, by touching each pony’s left rein to her neck like this, but Gail will get a little ‘chuck’ with it to speed her up, and Marie a little tug to the right on her bit to make her turn just a little more. See? They are going around in a perfect line, knees up and in step. GOOD, you monkeys, a well-done turn for once. Keep it up and you may get to relax - just a little - for the last part of the trip!" Malua observed her team’s performance for a minute, then continued her discourse:

"So, well-trained ponies never do anything on their own, they wait for commands from their driver or groom. If I don’t steer them, they’d probably run right off the road at a curve. Or not, but one couldn’t be sure."

"There’s a lot more to this than I thought! You have to independently adjust three sets of reins?"

"Yes. I can do that one-handed if I’m whipping or braking with my right hand. It’s a matter of training. I started driving troikas when I was a groom, long ago, and then I was part of a troika during my pony years, on the receiving end, and I kept my hand in even then, practicing on other teams on the weekends. I do it without thinking, and in fact I’d have a hard time telling you how to do it, it’s so unconscious. Occasionally we do four-in-hands, for fun, and eight reins will really challenge your fingers! The town also has a big coach, which takes a ten-team hitch. That’s actually easier, you really only have to control the first pair and the rest follow. But with just two ponies you’ll have an easier time, one per hand." I looked at Malua’s hands. Three reins came to each, so she was controlling Gail with her left hand, Marie with her right, and Renee with both.

"How do you manage to make Gail or Marie do something without signaling Renee too?" Malua laughed.

"I don’t know. My hands do it. Now don’t get me thinking about it or I’ll get all confused, like the caterpillar who couldn’t walk when asked how he did it. Are you trying to sabotage my team, Jim?" Amidst general laughter, including the ponies (two of whom gurgled throatily around their bits) we pulled up at the stables at Tatts. Joanne came trotting out and took control of the team while Malua and I went to get Suhanee. She was in a ‘transient’ stall, arms still tightly wrapped up, fingers fidgeting. When she saw us her face lit up but she couldn’t greet us, because Joanne had a severe-looking bit in her mouth.

"I see my groom has been getting you used to full tack, Suhanee. Good, you will need to get used to a lot of new things. Malua, how do I lead her out?"

"Bridle around the neck, like with Judy. Usually you’d just say "Joanne, bring Suhanee out" but she’s busy with the monkeys." I looked around and found a line with a snap, but no real ‘bridles’.

"If you want to leave that bit in her, you can just clip that lead to the bit ring." So I did that, then tugged gently. Suhanee flowed forward at the slightest pressure, she didn’t seem to want the bit tugged on at all. That was my first real ‘driving’ experience. To have someone as lovely and lithe as Suhanee respond instantly to my inept tug was quite something. We went back out and I clipped her to the other side of our cart, so she was standing next to Judy.

They were a pair; the same long, lustrous hair reflecting different hues depending on how the sunlight struck it, almost the same height (Suhanee slightly taller) and with the same long legs that graced all the women I’d seen so far. Long legs made longer still by their habit of always standing on tiptoe, just the balls of their feet and toes on the ground. It gave a high-heel look and stance without the heels. Both had brown eyes with speckles that also caught the sun. Judy was carrying a bit more supercargo up front. Suhanee’s eyes were bigger, but maybe that was due to the large bit she was working over in her mouth. They both fidgeted with their arms, trying to loosen their bonds, and had already turned to look each other over.

"How do I introduce them? Or should I?"

"Really, Jim dear, you have the strangest notions. Your two new ponies are people! They can hear and speak. Well, Judy can speak at any rate. You could say "Suhanee, do you know Judy? She is your new team partner." At this Suhanee shook her head, while the un-bitted Judy said "Hello, Suhanee."

"Jim, we all know each other on this little island, and the only two Radiants of pony age would certainly have met. What Suhanee meant by her head shake is she and Judy haven’t worked together, and haven’t been friends yet. Judy’s been raised on her farm, Suhanee is from the other end of the island, so it’s understandable they don’t ‘know’ each other, but they know the other’s name. In the next several weeks they’ll know each other better than they’ll ever know anyone else - ponies get very intimate." That struck me oddly. I looked at Malua, who looked back quizzically.

"Did I say something strange?"

"Malua, in the ‘OW’, intimate usually means being physical."

"Yes, that’s what I meant. They will be in close contact, they’ll share a stall, and they’ll have to learn to feel what the other one’s about to do. It’s a very close, very physical thing. I know my two former teammates better than I’ll ever know anyone else, including my own sisters, brother Matt, and even my husband if there ever is one."

"Er, no. ‘physical’ in the sense of, ah, well, ... sex." Now I was blushing.

Malua, Judy, and Joanne all burst out giggling or laughing. The four bitted ponies made funny noises through their noses.

"With each other? Two ponies? Oh, Jim, whatever put that idea into your head? Oh, Joanne, Judy, did you ever..." and they burst out with the giggles again. I felt excluded from some great joke.

"I’m sorry, I’m still so new to this. Look, in the ‘OW’ there are some females who get romantically attracted to each other, and, well. Well, dash it, they get ‘intimate’. That’s what I thought you meant." The giggling continued.

"Jim, there’s nothing strange about that. Think on it. Since a lot of women here don’t have access - not ‘easy’ access, anyway, to a man - well, of course they turn to other women. It’s just that the idea of two mated ponies being that way sounds so strange to us. Look, would you be attracted to your brother?"

"Certainly not! See here, Malua, I’ll have you know I’m very normal that way, and I resent..."

"Calm down, Jim. You’re not in the OW any more. Sex isn’t something we titter about here, or repress. It’s an urge, like itching or being hungry. A much stronger urge, of course." Now Malua was the one doing the blushing.

"But with a team-mate? Never, not in the way you’re thinking of. Oh, sure, Judy may scratch Suhanee where she itches sometime, somewhere really sensitive, and Suhanee may stroke Judy to soothe her when she’s upset, but that’s just a favor - Dr. Macintosh says the OW word for it is ‘mutual masturbation’, which is an ugly term and not at all what we mean by ‘sex’. Sex between two team-mate ponies just doesn’t happen, as in OW culture sex between brothers or sisters doesn’t. Or isn’t supposed to. Ponies who run hitched together and are trained together know one another far too well for sex to work. The way we do sex, anyway. There are no mysteries between them, even if they were attracted to other females that way." This was getting entirely too personal for me, with six attentive pairs of ears tuned into our conversation. I decided to swear off this topic until we were alone. Besides, wasn’t I supposed to be somewhat in control here? I searched my memory and trotted out a speech I’ve heard from a dozen cap’ns and bos’ns over the years.

"Well I see I’ve got a lot to learn yet. OK, where were we? Oh, yes, now you two ponies have been formally introduced. I’m Jim, your ‘owner’ or driver or whatever, anyway I’m the one who’s got to get you into tip-top shape so we can avoid embarrassing ourselves in the big races. I’m a nautical man, I run a taut ship, and I expect no nonsense or fiddle-faddle. Do as you’re told, try hard, and you’ll find me a fair and kindly master. Slack off and you’ll wish you had never set foot on my vessel. You’re both wrigglers, but you’ve never wriggled with the kind of knots I can tie, I promise you. Joanne and I will be keeping you on your toes (oops, bad metaphor, they’re already on their toes) and very much in top tune. Judy, you’ve always been a problem with other trainers, but there won’t be any problems with me. Not allowed, d’ye see. Suhanee, you’ve never been trained before, so this is new to both of us, but it will go fine. You’re both supposed to be very fast, you’re both absolute smashers to look at, so all we have to do is get you working well together. That starts right now, we’re off home and I expect you to stay in perfect step the whole way." I paused to see what effect this little oration might have had. Judy was staring off, Suhanee was looking vague, Joanne had a blank look, and Malua had a definite smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Oh well, I was new at all this. I’d just have to get the hang as I went along.

"Oh, Malua, how does Joanne come with us?"

"She trots along behind, just like your ponies. Girls her age can run quite as fast as most ponies. Joanne, do you want your hands tied for balance?" Before Joanne could answer, I interrupted.

"No, she doesn’t. Her hands will be busy. Joanne, get a quirt. Whenever Judy gets out of step, remind her. Smarten her up a bit. Judy, you are to stay in step with Suhanee. In perfect step. Let’s not get off to a bad start, I know you can do it. Malua, am I in bounds here?"

"Oh, very much so, Jim. All right, I promised the monkeys they might get a bit of rest, and they’ve been standing very nicely posed while we chattered. Would you help me relax their harnesses?"

"Delighted, m’dear. How much?"

"To your pleasure. Do Marie and Renee, I’ll do Gail."

So I got to ease the elbow and neck straps that were bracing these two blonde delights so rigidly. It’s an odd feeling, I’ll tell you, to have someone that good looking just passively waiting for you to do whatever, entirely helpless and at your disposal. And I had two such of my own, waiting just behind. It was going to be interesting, this ‘training’ business. Very interesting.

I loosened the various straps, chucked Marie and Renee under their gaping wet chins, got winks of thanks in return, and joined Malua in the cart. With a chuck she set them off and we sped down the lane. Three in front, two in the cart, two following along behind, and one behind them like a coach dog. Quite a procession. As we went I heard the distinct ‘thwack’ of a quirt meeting soft flesh. Judy wasn’t keeping step, and Joanne was applying correction as needed. The sounds tapered off after the first hundred yards, Judy evidently deciding her independence wasn’t quite worth it. But an occasional "thwack - Oh!" could still be heard.

"Malua, I still need help. Why is all this physical restraint and correction necessary? Joanne is trotting along behind us without any inducement at all, and these girls seem to all want to be ponies, and to do well and win the jeweled sandals, so why do I - and you, and everyone else - why do we have to bind them up and put ‘training’ harness on? Why don’t they just behave? Is this tied in with the driving business you were telling me about earlier? Were you that way too, as a pony, needing lots of bracing and discomfort to be proper?"

"That’s good question, Jim, but hard to give a simple answer for. You heard my mom talking about the history of pulling, how girls got into trouble and it was decided to restrain their hands after that. But that was an accident, they weren’t evil. It’s probably easiest if you can just accept that ‘that’s the way it is’, but you are so deuced curious you probably won’t. I will try to explain based my own experience, but remember these fractious steeds in front of and behind us are really just young women, and every one of them is different.

"Fine by me, I’d love to hear your point of view. Maybe I’ll learn more from my own ponies as time goes on. And I can easily accept that it’s just ‘so’, adjusting the buckles on Marie and Renee just now was a distinct pleasure and I’m not complaining. As long as I don’t have to wear this stuff, it does look uncomfortable." Malua looked disdainfully at my cotton pants and shirt.

"I’m not so sure, I’d hate to be confined in all the stuff you’re wearing. Maybe in the OW men have an easier time than women - that’s what Dr. Macintosh keeps saying - but give me my sarong, or a waist belt and nice tickly beadie, any time. You can keep those ‘pants’, they’d be beastly uncomfortable, hard to run in, and they certainly wouldn’t improve my figure!" I looked down at her brightly-colored sarong, tight around her trim hips, with her tiny waist sprouting up from them to support her perky breasts and sloping shoulders.

"No, pants wouldn’t become you. What a lovely custom you have here, running around bare-chested and with just sarongs or those little G-strings. What did you call them?"

"You mean beadies? They’re just to, well, preserve a bit of mystery. Ponies don’t have to wear anything but their harness, but a girl likes to cover up a little." She gave me a shy sideways look.

"Now about ponies. This will probably take longer than we’ve got till we get home, but here’s a short version. Being part of a pony team is all very well, and has its rewards, but flying along like Gail, Renee and Marie are doing, lugging us and the cart, staying in perfect step, trying to breathe around a bit in one’s mouth and responding to any little whim of the driver’s isn’t exactly a picnic. In the olden times girls would get cross and just stop, or unhitch themselves and stomp off, or back-talk to their drivers. As well as cause accidents by behaving independently. So our Chief of many generations ago decreed that ponies would always have their hands bound, be firmly fastened to their carts, and be controlled by bits - things they could hardly ignore. During all my years as a pony, I never once was tempted to seriously misbehave, so I could argue that the restraints aren’t necessary. But I honestly don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been helplessly secured in position. Sixteen years of pulling carts five days a week isn’t a total picnic, and there were times...." She drifted off for a bit.

"There’s the other part. Jim, you’ve never been tied up or strapped up, under someone else’s control, have you?"

"No, not since I played cowboys and Indians with my friends as a little kid. I don’t imagine I go in for that sort of thing."

"Then what I’m saying may not make sense to you. It doesn’t, to a lot of men and even some women. Being a superbly-trained part of a team, completely subject to another’s will, and helpless to do anything about it, having to make no decisions at all... It’s sooo dreamily neat. Maybe it’s something in our genes, I don’t know, but the thrill that went through me each morning when my groom came to get me, bound my hands behind or strapped them to my waist band, and I totally gave up my independence for the next twelve hours - it was wonderful. Over and over, for sixteen years, from when I was an empty-headed teenager until I’d become completely mature, that thrill never lessened. And at night when she brought me home after showering me and a rubdown and freed my hands, took my beadie off and I put a sarong on, something precious went away. I had to start thinking for myself again, and even though I’m quite headstrong and troublesome..." She looked at me, for denial or confirmation I couldn’t tell which, so I just made a ‘harrumph’ sound.

"Well, I always had mixed feelings about my returns to ‘regular’ life. I’ve spent almost half my life as a pony, Jim, and it will never leave me. You will never know that thrill, that incredible feeling when you come to the stable with your hands secured, and your groom strips you, puts whatever harness your owner has chosen on you, your bit goes in, you’re harnessed to a cart, and you’re part of the team again. I had it done to me thousands of times, and I hope to have it again. That’s why women here are tied in the forest for their wedding hunt, then done up as a pony again to pull their husband home, and tied up helpless on their wedding night. We want that, not you silly oafs. It wasn’t the men’s idea, they haven’t a clue. You’re dears, but not good at thinking clearly."

"But then why wriggle? Why bolt? Why is all this ‘punishment’ and correction necessary?"

"Even though a pony is completely in control, she needs to test the limits. It’s a great zing to get free, to wander off, to frustrate your owner in some way. It’s the pony’s way of getting back for all the control she has to endure. If I let the monkeys out of harness without hobbling them or tying them to a hitching post, they’ll scamper away. They can’t go anywhere, it’s a small island, they know they’ll be brought back and made very uncomfortable for their transgression, but they do it anyway. I did too. But at six o’clock their groom takes them out of harness, showers and rubs them down, walks them home and finally frees their hands, and then they’re free. Do they scamper off then? Of course not. What would be the point? But when the harness goes back on, they start looking for ways to misbehave all over again. If you’re going to have the high spirits it takes to be a champion, the flashing eyes and the proud gait and the temperament, you have to rebel every so often. I expect it of them, they expect me to expect it, and I expect them to expect me to expect it. It’s all a grand game, Jim. They test me, so I prove I’m cleverer and faster than they are. Usually. But here we are home. Whoa, monkeys, don’t go up the bloomin’ steps!" She yanked back hard on all three bits, snapping their heads back and stopping them dead.

"That’s what I mean. They’d have pulled us through the front door if they could, and it would all be my fault. All right, monkeys, for that you stay in # 4 all day tomorrow, and Jim won’t be here to ease it up for you when I’m not looking. Ooo, just wait..." Malua made no move to get out of the cart’s comfortable wicker seat. Jane came out to take hold of Marie’s harness, and held her and the others still by the simple expedient of pinching Marie’s right nipple.

"We have a little time before 6, Jim, do you have other questions?" Well, if she was content to sit here so was I.

"Let me savor the moment, Malua. It’s so unlike anything I’ve seen or done before." I reached back and pulled on the two bridles, which still connected my team-to-be to the cart. Judy and Suhanee both moved up close. Joanne just stood, in no hurry, watching Judy closely. Now I was surrounded by tanned female flesh on all sides. Malua seated next to me, the three ponies in front standing with their heads still back - Malua hadn’t lessened her grip on their reins - their sides heaving from the long trot and the breath whistling through their noses and young Jane with her intimate grip on Marie. Suhanee right next to me, her breasts brushing my shoulder as she panted around her bit, Judy on the other side next to Malua, and Joanne who now put her crop under Judy’s chin and lifted it until it pointed almost straight up. Judy tried to turn her chin away, but Joanne’s crop followed it as though it was glued on. Apparenly Joanne had firm ideas about posture, and wasn’t shy about enforcing them. Good, I needed all the help I could get.

"What’s the significance of 6 in the evening, other than that the ponies are off-duty? And how do you know it’s 6, anyway? I have a watch but I haven’t seen any others here."

"Watches are an OW thing, and they are of little use here. The island’s near the equator, and we say it’s ‘6’ - quitting time - when the sun goes down behind the mountains. It doesn’t vary much through the year. At ‘6’, most traffic is off the streets, the grooms take the ponies home, and then we eat dinner. Life here is divided into ‘doing things’ from morning to evening, then ‘not doing things’ after that. The ponies become people again at night and enter fully into society. After dinner we gossip, we argue, and generally gad about."

"Well, it’s certainly a paradise. I had wondered at first, about whether the ponies were under some kind of involuntary enslavement, but I can see how wrong that was. One last thing, where can a chap lay hands on harnesses and other equipment for his team?"

"The belts and beadies they’re wearing are all they really need, plus a bit for Judy. But I think you mean training or posture or punishment or show harness, don’t you. Well, we have a good selection in the stable - dad’s quite the disciplinarian and with two teams we have a lot of tack. For show harness, if you decide to enter that competition, you need to arrange something with a harness-maker. If your ponies need something more rigorous than we have, Joanne can find it for you, she knows where everything is in town. Your main problem will be getting a light, fast cart. I know of one, but it’s farther away than Judy’s house even, so we’ll wait until you get your team trained to go get it. You can use our spare cart in the meantime. Jane, you can take the monkeys now. Number 4 harness again in the morning, please, they haven’t quite gotten the message yet. We’ll do some speed trials in the morning, and then work them all day to take some starch out."

With that my long day came to an end and evening started. Jane unhitched Gail, Renee and Marie, and led them off to the stables. I asked Joanne to do the same with Judy and Suhanee, then take Judy to her aunt’s, and find a place for Suhanee to sleep. Malua and I went in to wash up. I must confess I would much rather have attended to my two new ponies myself - gad, but they were lookers, and evidently the ‘groom’ got to take their pony harness and bead-things off, wash and rub them, put a sarong around those shapely hips, and lead them home, hands still bound behind them. Well, that was a job I’d take in a flash, but decorum seemed to demand I escort Malua instead. I did see Joanne lead my ponies to the stable, and noticed that she had put a small bit on Judy before taking her bridle off the cart. It really was like dealing with regular ponies, fractious ones at that.

Malua entertained the family at dinner with a full account of the day’s events. There was general skepticism about my ‘purchases’; the consensus was that training the fractious Judy and the wriggling drop-heeled filly Suhanee was almost certainly too tall an order for a newly-arrived greenhorn. But it was all good-natured, these people didn’t seem to get really serious about much of anything. And why should they, living the carefree lives they did? I had my own ideas, and while they might be crackpot, I was confident of at least some kind of showing at the races. To marry the chief’s daughter, which was seeming like a better and better idea, I’d have to show I was worthy of her. I intended to do more than that, to show Malua who the real driver was and maybe win a prize. If I’d had any idea then of what a tall order that was, I’d have returned Judy to her mother on the spot and looked around for another buyer for Suhanee. But I’ve always been stubborn about challenges - nobody else survived that blasted Jerry torpedo that got my ship, and I wouldn’t have either except for my refusal to sink.

After dinner we ‘promenaded’. By this time everyone in the town seemed to know what I’d done at the auction, and there was much commentary about Suhanee’s unsuitableness from people we met. What struck me almost speechless was that two of the people we stopped to talk to were Renee and Marie. In colorful sarongs, like all the other women, hair all combed, cheerful, and in the company of their mothers and sisters. You’d never guess that a couple of hours ago these same two were standing at full attention, almost nothing on, with Malua dragging their reins, quivering in harness, unable to even twitch, and exquisitely sensitive to Malua’s every little whim. They greeted Malua and her sisters, mother and dad, chatted gaily away, and when the subject turned to their own training they made moues and admitted that they probably deserved tomorrow’s continuation of ‘harness #4’. But without a smidgeon of servility or submission. It was a perfectly normal conversation between friendly families and between women of only slightly differing ages. Although they were calmly talking about Malua inflicting suffering on them the next day, no hint of begging off or tension appeared. Marie and Renee seemed perfectly at ease with their pony status, and a discussion of the discipline they needed was no more emotional than talking about new clothes or the weather. They were quite candid about Judy, though:

"Jim, we couldn’t see how she trotted today - silly bit-rods kept us looking straight ahead - but we know Judy’s earlier trainer, and she gave up completely. Judy’s just not pony material, trust us. You’re going to put in a lot of work for nothing." This from Marie, whom I had been adjusting harness on, hobbling, and assisting with other indignities to, just that afternoon. ‘No hard feelings’ indeed! As I looked at her, I got the distinct feeling that Marie was feeling that earlier intimate contact, and projecting it back to me, but all under a veneer of happy chatting. Later I found that island woman acted like that all the time. When you’re competing for a small number of guys, you learn a lot of tricks and use them all. Island women made sure any man who caught their fancy, even a little bit, felt very special, very much appreciated. But as Malua had already said they did it without being pushovers, they were definitely most interested but just as definitely not ‘completely available’. I’ll have more on this later.

As we were talking to Renee and Marie, Judy and her aunt sauntered up and greetings were exchanged all around. I expected the blondes to stop talking about Judy with her actually present. But no, they continued right on and Judy joined in talking about her own pig-headedness and how hard it was to follow someone else’s orders.

"I just want to run, free like the wind. It’s terrible having someone bit you and make you go faster or slower, tell you when to turn, and insist you keep in step. I hate it."

It was as though they were discussing other people, not themselves. Apparently their lives were nicely divided by daylight and dark, weekdays and weekends, and what happened to their alter egos, their pony-selves, they did not see personally.

"Oh, Judy, you are impossible." (from her aunt) "You’ll never get near jeweled slippers that way." (from Marie) "What made you so independent, anyway?" (from Renee) And, "Then we’ll have a jolly time trying to work together, won’t we" from Suhanee, who had just wandered up, arm-in-arm with Joanne.

"Oh, hello Suhanee. Did Joanne get you some dinner?"

"Yes, Jim, before she went home. Then I had a bit more at her house later. You didn’t say anything about me staying in the stable, so Joanne decided I was ‘off-duty’ and it was all right to go out together." Joanne spoke up too - "I hope that wasn’t wrong, sir."

"Fine, fine. We don’t start training until the morning; both you and Judy have the night to yourselves. But please don’t count on having every evening free, girls. We have a lot to do and it make take more than just the daytime." This got me a look from Judy and a glance from Suhanee, but no comments.

We went home, and I stayed up for a little while talking to Malua about what I might do to train this troublesome pair. She had some good suggestions about basic pony training which I stored away. Then I brought up a ticklish subject. A very ticklish subject indeed, considering my intentions re Malua.

"Malua, dear, I’m going to be paying a lot of attention to both these good-looking young ladies for the next several weeks. Spending more time with them than I will have for you, I fear. I hope this doesn’t, well, doesn’t....

"Whatever are you driving at, Jim?" There were no thunderclouds on her brow, no sharp looks. She seemed genuinely puzzled. I was completely at sea.

"It’s just that I don’t want you to feel left out or ignored. I’m very taken with you, I think you know that. Y’see, in the OW if someone cared about someone else but wandered off to keep company with some other good-looking someones, well...."

"Oh, Jim, you OWs are so strange. You’re actually worried that I will resent you spending time with Suhanee and Judy, aren’t you!"

"Yes. Yes I am. I must admit they are deuced attractive young women, and I’ve had a hard time of it today keeping my eyes off them. I wouldn’t blame you if...."

"I suppose I should be flattered, but I’m just a bit bewildered instead. How could I possibly mind? You are interested in me, aren’t you? A little, anyway?"

"You know I am. More than ‘interested’. You’re the person of my dreams. In fact I’m not sure most of the time that all of this isn’t a dream." Malua reached over and pinched me.

"I’m no dream. But you still have so much to get used to, we are so different from your peculiar world. No woman here could possibly resent a man she’s attracted to paying attention to other women. It’s what we expect. Remember, the men here take three or four wives. It’s human nature, silly. I’d worry about you if you didn’t look at Suhanee, Judy, and any other attractive female that crosses your path. We women get attracted to one man, and if we’re lucky we marry him. We don’t need more than one. Men are different, they spread their affections wider. Lucky thing, too, or we would die out - not enough babies. So please, dear, set your mind easy. I know that Suhanee and Judy, as well as most other unattached women, will be interested in you. They will make it as clear as they can that they are interested. I saw all the looks and body language Suhanee was using on you at the auction. I thought it was funny, since she’s so clearly not pony material, but she hooked you somehow.

"But that doesn’t make me resent Suhanee. Mac once told me how OW women act, it sounds horrid, always in competition and resenting one another. All we worry about is being attractive enough to land someone. That someone is quite welcome to as many other women as he wants. We know from an early age that we’ll be living in a large group, just as our mothers do, and we can’t afford any petty jealousies. We try very hard to get along with each other. Maybe that’s why the whole island gets along. We don’t have disputes or fights or those things you call ‘wars’. Our men are happy, their wives are happy, and even the women who don’t get married are happy. Now please don’t worry any more about paying all the attention you want to your ponies. They are very nice to look at. I wish I had hair like they do, but then I probably wouldn’t have become the champion pony."

"Your hair is just great." After that we leaned closer and engaged in a long, searching, and rather intricate kiss. I was breathing pretty hard when we came up for air, and quite ready to carry things further.

"Not yet, Jim. Not yet. We don’t rush into things. We go slowly, it’s much better. Now shoo, go see to your pony. You are an Island man now, with responsibilities."

It was a very confused ‘Island man’ that walked away, bent over a bit to conceal the rigid member in my pants. Did Malua mean all that? Or was it just a veneer she put on her real feelings? I couldn’t imagine women who didn’t resent ‘their’ man having a straying eye. It was too good to be true.

By the time I got to the stables I was somewhat in control, at least to appearances. I hoped that the sight of Suhanee wouldn’t set me off again. She was standing at the stable door, gazing out at the stars, and smiled as I walked up.

"Hi, Jim, welcome to my humble abode."

"Good evening, Suhanee, I hope that this isn’t too primitive for you. It seems there isn’t enough room in the house, and...

"Oh, I heard everything Malua said to you this afternoon, I understand. It is fine here, I like having the whole place to myself at night, and Joanne and I made a nice little bed for me. I’m your pony, after all, and living in the stables is quite appropriate. Will you come in?"

"Thanks. Suhanee, can you tell me about yourself? I’m new at all this, and if I understand you better it may help us both get ‘trained’. Why do Malua and the others think you won’t be a good pony for me?"

"That’s easy enough. When I saw you at the auction today I knew instantly that I wanted to be your pony. Do you know how ponies are chosen?" I shook my head. "We have strict customs. No pony can ask to be on a team. She has to wait to be chosen in a private sale, or bought at the auction as I was. So even though I knew I wanted to run for you, I couldn’t ask. And, since I look this way (she gestured at her largish, upstanding bosom, her hair, her figure, her legs which were long and shapely even by island standards) and am a Radiant, a lot of people were interested in me. I didn’t know how many favors you had stocked up, but since you were the new shipwreck arrival it probably wasn’t many. So I had to do something to make everyone else lose interest, but not you. I did that heel-drop, but tried to convince you with a look that I was doing it on purpose. Besides, maybe you didn’t know what a bad thing that was. When Malua dragged you away I thought I’d burst out in tears, but you came back. And now I’m your pony." She smiled dreamily.

"You’re an orphan? You have no relatives?"

"I have lots of relatives. Hundreds. My mom died when I was born, and my dad died a couple of years ago - of old age - but most everyone in my town - New Bedford - is related. The whole island is related somehow, all descended from ten families and all intermarried. I have an older brother, and all my step-moms are alive, and my step-sisters, 7 of them. I could stay at several houses here in town but they are all pretty crowded. What I don’t have is a family of my own with a house and team. That’s when we call someone an orphan, when they don’t have a home and team. It is easier for me to stay here in the stable, and it’s quite nice. Having a dwelling all to yourself is a rare thing."

"Would you mind terribly telling me why you wanted to be my pony? I don’t know the first thing about driving, and aside from Malua nobody here knows anything about me as a person."

"Silly. You are new. Any new man is the most exciting thing on the island. Just about everyone at that auction wanted to be your pony. I was lucky that you saw me first, and liked me, and could afford me after I faked that heel-drop. It isn’t hard to learn to drive a team. If you can get Judy and me to work together, you won’t have any other problems."

"I’m flattered. I hope I won’t disappoint you. I’m not cruel, and I certainly did like you the instant I saw you. Your hair..."

"Oh, my hair. My blasted hair is the bane of my life. Radiants aren’t supposed to cut their hair, like I’m some sort of island treasure. So I have to spend a lot of time washing and brushing this great mane of mine. It gets attention, but usually I’d rather be a short-haired blonde or brunette. Darn, but we can’t change what we’re given."

"You don’t have hair dye here?"

"Hair what?"

"I guess not. Suhanee, Malua said you are a ‘wriggler’, that you are a problem because you keep trying to wriggle free of your restraints. Why do you do that?"

"Because I don’t like being tied up. What would you do if someone tied your hands behind you?"

"I’m not a pony. But since you are going to be secured this way, every weekday for years and years now, why fight it?"

"Until I saw you I wasn’t sure I was going to be a pony. Not all girls are, some are too slow or too good at something else or - like me and Judy, just not the right temperament, so they aren’t chosen. It’s like marriage, except a lot of us never marry." I wondered if girls who weren’t ponies ever married, and how marriage was arrived at - did girls wait, as they waited to be chosen for ponies? And did they have any choice in the matter? Malua apparently did, or nobody had asked her, which I found hard to believe. But I could ask Malua all these things later. Time to get down to business.

"Well, now you are a pony. Are you going to keep wriggling?" Suhanee gave me a long look. Very long, but no answer came.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Jim, not at all. You can ask or tell me anything you want. I just don’t know how to answer that question. I suppose I probably will stop wriggling, because you will train me not to. But your question supposes that - as a pony - I have free will, that I can decide things. That’s not how I feel about it. Not at all. As a pony I am yours to train, to make of me what you can. But don’t depend on me for help. You have to train me! Joanne has been trying, but she is a groom, not a trainer. She has been tieing me up and whipping me, but it doesn’t have much effect. Someone has to take complete control of me, to make me do what I should." This last was delivered with a lot of heat, and a stamp of one poised foot.

"Oh, I will, Suhanee. I don’t quite know how, yet, but I will take control of you. And you will do what you should. Not as fast or as well, maybe, as if you had Malua’s dad train you, but we - no, I - will make it work. Well, I’m glad we had this talk, it’s made a lot of things clear. Do you think Judy feels the same way?"

"I don’t know what Judy feels, I don’t know her yet. You’ll have to ask her."

"Do you mind having to team up with Judy? I don’t get the feeling you like her much."

"I don’t know her, so can’t tell if I ‘like’ her or not. But we’re going to be on the same team, so I will get to know her. And later I’ll be able to tell you, if you’re still interested. Do I mind? I can’t answer that, Jim. Same as with wriggling. You could train me to ‘mind’, or to not mind. I do wonder if she’s as fast as I am, if we are both fast it will help. You know that we Radiants are very fast or very slow, I heard Malua tell you that. If Judy’s slow, it will be a problem, but you could train me to be slow too."

"I have one last question, Suhanee. When Joanne tied you up you got a very far-away expression. Does it mean something special to you? Is there some special way we should be tying you up?" Another long stare.

"It’s just peculiar to be completely bound with my elbows back that way, pulling my shoulders back and making these (she waved fingers at her impressive frontage) stick out. And being unable to wriggle when I really want to. Joanne and I played pony a lot when we were little - I’m not quite a year older than she. She was always the one who wanted to tie me, so even though I was bigger I was usually the pony. She got very good at tying me so I couldn’t even twitch. When she asked to be your groom, I knew I was in for more of that. A lot more."

"Should I get some other groom?"

"I can’t tell you that. What a pony wants doesn’t make any difference at all. You should get the groom you like, one who works well with you. I might complain about her or praise her when I’m ‘off duty’, but that cannot have any bearing on what you do. You can order me to tell you how I feel about Joanne when I’m in harness, and I would because I have to obey your orders, then, but it would make me, and Joanne, very uncomfortable. Besides, ponies aren’t supposed to engage in lively conversation with their owners. Right now, I prefer not to say." There was more going on here than my limited powers of deduction could handle.

"What do you want to know about me? About the outside world?"

"We aren’t terribly curious about the OW. Everything we hear makes it sound like a terrible place. People invent things they don’t really need, work all the time for something called ‘money’, cover the ground with concrete and rails, rush about, and are mean to each other. Or am I wrong?"

"Well, from my limited experience here I’d say you are pretty much spot on, Suhanee. This island doesn’t need radio, or telephones, or vacuum cleaners, or washing machines. You sure don’t need automobiles, you’ve hatched a much better idea yourselves.

"You didn’t ask about me, but I’ll tell you something - I’ve spent a lot of my life at sea, on big boats, and in ports all over the world. It’s made me more resourceful than the usual bloke. I can do a lot of things, and I’m confident and stubborn. And just foolish enough to think that I can learn to train a team of extraordinarily beautiful women to pull me about in good style. Even if I can’t, it’s going to be wonderful just trying, with someone as knock-down gorgeous as you. In case I haven’t made it clear, I think you are one of the three best-looking women I’ve ever seen - and I’ve seen women in a lot of ports, all over the world. Malua’s another and Judy’s the third. If you and Judy can run half as well as you look, we will beat the very wind. And I’ll try my damnedest to make you into a pony of distinction. Now it’s late, we have work to do tomorrow, so I’ll say good night."

Suhanee’s eyes got misty at that. Maybe I’d finally said something half-right! Being unsure of etiquette I didn’t offer to kiss her, just went back to the house. Everyone else had retired, so I fell into bed. And had the most peculiar and erotic dreams. If I didn’t convince someone to share my bed soon I’d surely go batty, all this fantastic female flesh was more than a chap could take, without partaking, but they didn’t seem all that eager to please. Well, it was early rounds yet.