by Mark Andrews
On the first day we ran them to the point of exhaustion - that is, until they dropped. But then we allowed them a thirty minute respite, kneeling where they were on the gravel of the drive while they recovered at which we whipped them to a return to the garage complex behind the house and allowed them to work at light duties (raking the drive) for the rest of the morning. But it was a return to the gym in the afternoon.
And so they now had the gym work, the domestic toil and now cart-horse training each day while their bodies adapted to the new employment we planned for them. It worked very well. Their bodies continued to develop and to achieve quite remarkable strength and endurance. So much so we were able not only to run them faster and faster up and down the drive but also for longer and longer periods.
But style was just as important as speed and endurance and here Sanjiv was a real surprise. He had stayed on with us, partly because he was genuinely interested in developing Joel’s and my as well as Chandra’s and Bjorn’s mental acuity and this we did for an hour or so each day, more or less depending on what else we had planned; but also because he was intrigued at what we were doing to Madeleine and her cohorts.
In any case, on the second day of their training as human ponies, we found him out in front of the porte cochere. watching us intently. We stopped by him and asked what he thought.
“You are doing wonderfully with them,” he began, “but they are at, is it sixes and sevens, with their feet...”
We smiled at his quaint English but nodded politely. “Sixes and sevens?” Joel asked.
“Yes, they are not in step. Just as an army marches in step, so must horses, be they equine or human. Unless they are, the action and thus the effort applied to the poles is uneven and its effect very much reduced.
“May I...?”
“Of course,” I said, and so he now took his place beside Madeleine, who was the lead pony on the left. Billy was on her right, Peter behind her and Joan Thomas behind her husband.
“Right, now we begin with marking time, just as soldiers do. Left-right-left-right...” he kept them at that for a few minutes then called out, “Halt!” They achieved this quite well. Next he told then he was going to order them to walk, again, as soldiers: “By the left, quick-march!”
They took off, now in perfect step...
And so it developed. In no time he had taught them how to take off together at the flick of the reins to Madeleine’s shoulders and to keep in step when an increase or decrease in speed or pace was ordered. With his help, and with our continued insistence on the most rigorous of physical training, they became, over the next few weeks, a quite incredible team.
By the time the eight weeks were up and Bill delivered the new carriage to us, they were able to continue on, up and down the drive for the whole morning or afternoon.
Their bodies were now just about perfect: very muscular, without being gross and, in the case of the two females, probably too much so for neither of them could now be called beautiful.
They weren’t exactly mannish but with prominent and sharply defined shoulders and biceps, heavily scalloped belly muscles, very muscular buttocks and extremely shapely and powerful thighs and calves, they could no longer be described as feminine. But wow, could they perform!
Once harnessed and with the bridle buckled to Madeleine’s head, the four of them, still totally naked of course, could actually gallop up and down the drive and round to the back of the house over and over again, virtually non-stop. It was an incredible sight and, we believed, one Brisbane - or anywhere else in the country for that matter - hadn’t seen, for we never went out the front gates and as the entry to the estate was recessed in from the road, we were pretty secure from prying eyes.
This was because we wanted to spring it on our wedding guests as a complete surprise. Instead of having Madeleine and her friends wait on them, we were going to treat them to rides up and down the drive during the banquet to follow the ceremony.
Our wedding was a wonderful event.
We had wanted James Hobbs to be our guest but he insisted on stage-managing the whole thing himself as our butler but in turn, we insisted that he do so from a seat at our table and he did agree to that. Sanjiv was also seated with us.
The ceremony itself was beautiful and James had outdone himself so far as the detail of the breakfast which followed it. Everything ran like clockwork and the hundred or so guests seemed to be enjoying themselves - or at least they were until our new carriage and its four human ponies arrived, right in the middle of the dessert course, as planned.
At that moment, they went wild, leaving their sweets half-finished, clambering over fallen chairs to be first to the spot on the back drive next to the lawn where had been set up the tables for the breakfast. As it was summer we had opted for a marquee without walls and I grinned as I saw its supports in danger from the crowd, all of whom were now streaming over towards the magnificent carriage and its four human ponies.
Bill Chambers had really done us proud with the carriage. It looked like a smaller version of the old queen’s landau but he had used materials which had decimated the original’s weight, making it a breeze for our well-muscled and highly trained human steeds to gallop along in perfect harmony.
But it was not only functional. It was also a thing of real beauty: high-gloss black lacquer picked out with gold leaf. Beautifully upholstered red leather seats and real silver fittings inside. But beautiful and all as it was, it was the four slaves our guests were most interested in. They crowded around their positions, standing perfectly still (at attention) with their eyes unwaveringly fixed on something directly ahead of them and apparently oblivious to the dozens of people thronging around them, some of whom actually reached over to fondle their so muscular bodies. As the minutes passed, these ‘inspections’ became more intrusive and Joel and I grinned as we watched fingers straying down to genitals, delving in to the females and exciting the two males to erections. The females’ udders also came in for a lot of attention.
Joel and I strolled up after them and then Joel climbed up into the carriage, drawing me up after him and addressed them.
“You will no doubt remember our former mistress, Madeleine Albrecht, but you may not recognise her in her new role as one of our ponies.” Here he paused and then turned towards our enemy, reaching out to point to her. It was obvious few of the guests had recognised her for who she was, although of course it was obvious what she now was.
“And behind her is the young man she used to frame my wife. On their right are a couple of her sycophants who knew about and connived at her perfidy. All four have been developed and trained as ponies, which is what they will be doing for the rest of their miserable lives.
“Right now, we invite you, in lots of four, to enjoy a spin down to the front gate and back...”
The nearest four guests climbed up and young Arnold, a nineteen-year-old cat-burglar who was small and slender (perfect for his nefarious profession) and looked to be about fifteen, now dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform, headed them off while the rest stared after them, all waiting impatiently for their turn.
I have to admit it was indeed a splendid sight. The carriage itself was splendid but the four nigh-on perfect specimens of muscular athleticism, the females amongst them every bit as much so as the males, were even more so. Each left thigh rising in absolute unison, the precision of their movements now quite perfect. Their bodies swayed at the same time; feet descended and touched the gravel together.
With their hands up on the handles of the yokes on either side of their necks, their back muscles writhed in almost the same pattern, as did their universally well-developed biceps and shoulder muscles. I delighted in watching their buttocks, each set narrow, boyishly rounded and dimpled on their outer surfaces. As they took the weight on the left leg, its buttock clenched (also in perfect unison with the others) but then relaxed as t
heir torso passed over it.
We all watched as the carriage disappeared around the house but then reappeared about six minutes later to pull up beside us. Its passengers reluctantly disembarked and the four next guests mounted up and took off.
The guests (except for the next couple of groups at least) then dispersed, either back to the tables or to wander around the garden while we mixed freely among them. All were fulsome in their praise of what we had done to Madeleine and her crew. Most thought we were being easy on them but all seemed to agree that turning them into muscle-boys and girls and training them as ponies was about the best thing for them.
“But what about the times they aren’t actually taking you somewhere or are in training?” asked Joel’s brother.
My new husband grinned back at him. “Oh then they will be on their hands and knees, endlessly scrubbing the stone floors in the kitchens, quite uselessly but as their collars will ensure they never cease, even for a breather, they will know the worst of what it means to be a slave...”
Chapter 7
Our sessions with Sanjiv, which of course still included Chandra and Bjorn, had some startling results. As we practised the art of telepathy and its allied disciplines, we found our powers increasing. We could communicate over longer distances and the messages became clearer and more detailed.
We also found our powers to influence others growing as well. As this became apparent, we became concerned and after discussing it between ourselves at length, raised it with Sanjiv.
He twinkled at us. “As I have said before, I knew I had chosen you two well. Yes, it is of concern that you may well be able to influence others by thought but think about it. What is the difference between that ability and the power of influence by word?”
We looked at one another and laughed. “Of course, but in any case, I doubt we will be trying to change the world or even Queensland...”
“You might be surprised,” he said, somewhat enigmatically. We let it pass, however, deciding to wait and see.
We used our four ponies a lot, even taking them down to that same shopping mall to allow Madeleine’s former friends to see her in her new state: a superbly muscled stark naked and totally nude human pony, harnessed to a beautiful carriage alongside her accomplice and friends and now capable of galloping us along the roads at a fine pace while we were clapped by the pedestrians (who also booed her and the other three).
Whenever we were going to a Sunday barbecue or the like, we used it, even if the distance was quite a few kilometres for it was pleasant to sit back while Arnold drove us along, delighting in the open carriage, the sight of the four now beautifully muscled slaves, each with the silicon doggy tail waving madly from side to side as they galloped us along, not to mention the waves and cheers of the people as they stood and watched the spectacle. And then of course, once we arrived, agreeing to them taking our host and his other guests for spins during the course of the party.
Arnold was instructed to make them sweat. “Run them hard, boy,” Joel told him, “and whip them when they start to falter.”
“Yes, sir,” the young slave replied. We knew he wouldn’t let us down. He too had suffered under Madeleine’s sadistic ownership style and, like the other slaves we had inherited from her under the judge’s order, treated them with contempt and totally ignored them, except when placed in direct control over them and then enforcing our orders to the letter.
Of course we continued with our own exercises, always striving to perfect a particular gymnastics routine and to make our own bodies as good as we could get them. But we also delighted in supervising theirs as well, driving the four of them to harder and harder effort in the gym, and then on the heavy practice cart (which we now loaded with more stones to make it even harder), whipped them to longer and longer stints, changing the pace continually but making the galloping sessions always a little longer than last time until, after a few months, they could gallop us along for over two hours without a break.
And then of course, there were the punishment sessions. With them, unlike the other slaves, whose small lapses earned them just a warning (and which in any case were few, given our very much easier treatment of them), this four deserved strict punishments, just as Madeleine had dealt out to us.
Upside-down suspension in the hall, with their legs drawn out almost parallel was one she had favoured and therefore so did we. And then there was the whip.
James had already been an adept whip-master when he had dealt with us but he had been practising every day since coming to us and could now lay the tip of the bull-whip or the signal whip precisely where he wanted it - and with the exact degree of ferocity he desired, too. Thus, with Madeleine upended in the centre of the great hall in front of the grand staircase, when it came time to deliver the actual punishment, he could stand in front of her, but back a few metres and flick the long bull whip back over his shoulder, almost lazily, his eyes on her wide opened and so naked vagina, then bring it forward so that the long tail arced up over his shoulder - and then he cracked it, right on target, right in the centre of her evil twat - at which she screamed blue murder and her now so muscular and athletic body performed incredible gyrations an acrobat would be envious of.
These punishments were never hurried. We usually attended, unless we had something else on, in which case we left it to James to carry it out himself. We knew he wouldn’t go over the bounds but it was an added insult to her that her former butler could now punish her on his own authority whenever she erred.
We insisted that these punishments were never gratuitous. She had to have committed an offence, but it didn’t need to be a big one. She had punished me with a week’s agonising toil on the almost immovable roller - for the dreadful offence of placing a hairpin on her dressing table. A bad look, a word out of place, lack of diligence or effort applied, all merited punishment and a session in the hall was one of them.
Just as she had done with me, we had her strung up by her heels as soon as the offence was committed or reported to us. And there she hung all that day, naked, upside down, her legs stretched as wide open as they could get them, until after our dinner and then we, our guests if we had any, and the staff, servants and slaves alike, all gathered to watch James demonstrate his masterful skill with the whip.
It was usually twenty-five strokes, all delivered to her sexual organs for we perceived that it was her libido that drove her sadism and this was what we wanted to punish for it was that which had caused us all so much pain and humiliation at her hands.
She reacted as a bully often does, screaming and crying when on the receiving end of the pain and shame. She was no masochist and neither were the other three. But all of their bodies were now superb - and looked wonderful as they contorted this way and that during the course of the flogging.
Yes, the males were whipped on their genitals, too, although James was careful not to permanently damage their testes. Hurt them, yes. But while they remained very sore and tender for a week or so after the punishment, he didn’t really damage them.
But she had delighted in torturing us in other ways, too.
One of her favourites had been electrical torture and we used it extensively on her but as I have already described one such session I will tell of another she also favoured. Enemas! Ever heard of them? They used to be used quite extensively as a medical procedure to ‘clean out’ a patient’s bowels. That practice has largely fallen out of use but the SM crowd still use them in their little games.
They involve injecting rather large doses of warm (or hot) soapy water up a person’s rectum until he is bloated and in quite severe pain, leaving it there for a few minutes and then allowing him to expel it, after which the procedure is repeated, sometimes over and over again.
The addition of other chemicals, particularly irritants, cause the subject even more distress and so does a requirement that he keep the dose inside his b
ody without the benefit of an anal plug while performing exercises. Being forced to perform sit-ups or even worse, knee bends makes this just about impossible but even a tiny leakage merits an anal caning.
These were her rules and so of course we adopted them for her and the other three as well. Not the other slaves, of course. They might earn the cane over their bottoms for a serious offence but that was it.
With her, however, we operated under the old adage that ‘what was good for the goose, was also good for the gander’.
She never did things by halves and had set up one of the cellar rooms to make a perfect enema ‘treatment room’.
It housed an old, cast-iron bath onto whose sides had been built rests (and manacles) for the hands and knees. Once the victim was kneeling on (and had been chained to these), his legs were spread wide and his anus very well exposed.
Above the bath and hanging down from the ceiling, there was a plumbing fixture like a switchboard, except that it featured valves with associated temperature and volume controls and little vials in which to place additives, instead of electrical switches. There were also meters to measure the various levels, as well. A clear plastic tube emanated from the base of this unit which was at head height. On the end of the plastic tube was a large, penis-shaped nozzle and I suspect it was moulded from Joel’s huge weapon for it had remarkable similarities. It was even coloured the same!
Forgetting herself one day so much as to look me in the eye, I pounced and called for James (on my communicator). He was with us in a flash and grabbed her, heading off to the cellars. Joel and I followed and watched as he forced her up onto the bathtub and then manacled her wrists and ankles to the little frame and then unhooked the tube, greased the nozzle and, after removing the ubiquitous tail the four of them all now wore permanently, inserted the huge nozzle in it place. He made her clean the cone-shaped tail plug with her lips and tongue then set it aside.
