{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"84c18548-ea25-4509-b46f-9641e2be3da1","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2023-06-01T13:58:52.356Z","title":"Old McDonald had a Farm...","slug":"old-mcdonald-had-a-farm","shortId":"3gbAbaRA","authorNote":"Authors note. I’ve had a couple of similar requests lately for a more ‘farm’ orientated pony story or series. By coincidence, I came across the first story I ever wrote the other day, which I thought I’d long since lost. Some may remember a story series that ran to three episodes on the now defunct ‘Gagged Utopia’ site called ‘The Lifestyle Farmer’ by Honorius. I thought it was excellent and was disappointed when it did not continue, so I wrote my version for a few chapters and then took a lengthy break. A couple of years later, I resumed my meagre jottings partly prompted by another of his stories, leading to ‘A Tale of Two Families and all the other rubbish I’ve since churned out. Anyway, I found my initial effort on an ancient memory stick and thought I’d quickly rewrite and publish it. (Waste not want not…lol!) If people are interested, I’ll dig out the other chapters and do the same.","disclaimer":"All rights belong to the author.","type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A visit to a couple with their own unique way of running a small remote farm!","partCount":10,"parts":[{"partId":"29c2398a-b3de-45cd-8ff5-97af84787b72","title":"Chapter one.","summary":"Old McDonald had a Farm...Technically, that wasn’t true, at least not in the complete\nsense. My frie","wordCount":8040,"readTime":40,"number":1,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"7abe3dd3-ecd6-4150-9ced-bd257dc4a22b","title":"Chapter two","summary":" Chapter two‘Well, it was only\na seven-seater!’I have heard of\nthat expression, time stopping s","wordCount":7153,"readTime":36,"number":2,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"80a7796f-14e5-4c34-a51a-ec48c09098f1","title":"Chapter three","summary":"Chapter three“The greens aren’t all homegrown”, Bessie said, handing me a plate with a very generous","wordCount":9153,"readTime":46,"number":3,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"1af9126c-46a9-4cf6-badb-b5f4f54d8102","title":"Chapter Four","summary":"Chapter fourI saw the folded note almost immediately as I clumped down the old wooden staircase, hav","wordCount":9414,"readTime":47,"number":4,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"e998a1ec-94cd-44c8-92e4-9ff59e5f243a","title":"Chapter five","summary":"Chapter five“I wasn’t trying to keep this one a secret, nothing like\nthat and HEEL, Damn you!” Bessi","wordCount":5920,"readTime":30,"number":5,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"e6868be6-e458-4385-a66c-8fdf47090718","title":"Chapter six","summary":"Chapter six“Not a bad way to travel, is it?” Bessie chuckled casually,\nflicking that whip again and ","wordCount":5727,"readTime":29,"number":6,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"5277bff2-b59b-4cb8-83ba-9f4901fae25f","title":"Chapter Seven.","summary":"Chapter SevenBetty shrieked with laughter, sounding more like the\nhigh-pitched wail of a disturbed b","wordCount":5747,"readTime":29,"number":7,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"526b70f7-2de6-49a9-9bb9-a6584871c720","title":"Chapter Eight.","summary":"Chapter eight.“Not bad, not too bad at all, especially handicapped with a\ntrainee”, Bessie chuckled,","wordCount":5728,"readTime":29,"number":8,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"410dd25c-817f-4d37-926e-fcbd5f3b2711","title":"Chapter Nine.","summary":"Chapter nine. Day number five, I thought, squinting at myself in the bathroom\nmirror as I scrap","wordCount":7354,"readTime":37,"number":9,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"35cc9856-c925-461a-80d6-dec6ac24612c","title":"Chapter Ten","summary":"Chapter TenI glanced at my watch—eleven fifteen or eleven sixteen in the morning, to be precise. AM","wordCount":9815,"readTime":49,"number":10,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter one.","content":"

Old McDonald had a Farm...

Technically, that wasn’t true, at least not in the complete\nsense. My friends, Robbie and Bessie McDonald, might have opted to retire\nearly, but they weren’t that old, not by today’s standards anyway, nor did they\nhave a farm. They’d bought what they called a ‘smallholding’, not a farm. I had\nno idea what that meant when they’d told me about it a year or so back when\nthey’d decided to exit city life and head for the wilds. Now I’d accepted a\nsomewhat insistent invitation to visit them; I looked up the meaning on Google\nbefore I started packing.

A smallholding is a home with a piece of land larger than\na garden but smaller than most farms. The land can be used to grow crops or\nrear animals. Generally, acknowledged to be anything with fewer than fifty\nacres of land. There was a link to a Wiki entry, but I didn’t bother to\nlook at it. Basically, it seemed a fancy name for a small farm. However, fifty\nacres of land seemed quite a lot and certainly considerably more extensive than\nthe average or even non-average garden!

I‘d been somewhat taken aback by their decision to decamp to\nNorth Wales, for neither of them was an enthusiastic traveller and Bessie, in\nparticular, was very suspicious not to say vocal about other countries and\n‘foreigners’. Indeed, she didn’t even need to go abroad. Being London-born and\nraised, anyone who lived more than thirty miles beyond the metropolis was a\nforeigner in her eyes. As a diehard Englishman considerably more travelled,\nNorth Wales was far more alien to me than Paris, Rome or New York!

Both were occasional vegetarians, on and off, hot and cold,\nif you know what I mean. Maybe that had something to do with their decision,\nalthough they were hardly zealous. Bessie was big on house plants and had lamented\ntheir lack of a garden for years to grow things. Personally, I thought that a\nsmall price to pay considering the size of their luxury apartment, the\nprestigious neighbourhood, the convenient tube station and no less than three\nallocated secure covered parking spaces—his, hers and one for visitors. Hell,\nforget gardens; people would virtually cut their right arm off in London for a\nsingle parking space!

I lived in a small one-bedroom first-floor flat in a less\nsalubrious part of town. Yes, I use both terms for added descriptive effect. My\nfriends had or used to have a spacious four-bedroomed apartment, whereas I had\na small, cramped one-bedroom flat that had cost me Shylock’s modern equivalent\nof a pound of flesh. Probably both arms and a leg as well, allowing for\ninflation. I didn’t have a garden either and, more annoyingly, not even a\nsingle parking space, never mind three.

Street parking was a no-no because of through traffic and\nbus routes, and the nearest spot was a small tarmac oasis that had been\nrepurposed by the Luftwaffe one night during the Autumn blitz of 1940 and,\nstrangely for London, never built upon. Probably because the revenue the current\nowner got from hiring out the fourteen spaces annually made a small fortune. Of\ncourse, I’d had my name down on the waiting list for a spot for six years and\nhad moved precisely four places nearer to obtaining one. You are now number twenty-eight\nin the queue. Please hold as those bloody telephone things would have\nirritatingly told me!

Being a car owner under the circumstances was perhaps ridiculous,\nbut I persevered. My expensively restored, original E-type Jag, my pride and\njoy, resided under a faded cover on another friend’s driveway occupying the\nspace his wife’s cheap Korean runabout had filled until their acrimonious\ndivorce. Given that getting to my ‘wheels’ involved a ten-minute walk to an\nunderground station, eight stops on the tube, and another ten-minute walk,\nyou’ll understand why my silver classic wasn’t clocking up much more\nmileage-wise.

Consequently, giving it a rare run out was one reason I was\nheading North-West to spend a few days eating dubious meals in a remote part of\nWales. I’d only been to that part of the country once before, a four-day scout\ncamp one Easter when I was about twenty years younger. It should have been a\nweek, but our leaders wisely ordered a retreat to civilisation in the face of\nrelentless monsoon rain, artic winds and the growing prospect of mass\nhyperthermia among our sad and soggy troop!

Destination aside, it was good to give my British classic a\nrunout, but I have to say that I’m not a great fan of the countryside. I\nremember being introduced to a gorgeous young blonde dolly at a Christmas party\na few years back that I’d been surreptitiously eyeing up. My fault, for I’d\nbeen more interested in her legs and cleavage than what my hostess had said\nprior to introducing me beyond her name registering. Bernadette, if I recall\ncorrectly. Worked as a riding instructor at a place that specialised in giving\nexperience to disabled and socially deprived children. The current term for\npoor!” I could just see her in that sexy tight casual riding gear they have\nthese days!

Unfortunately, my attempts at getting into her saddle ended\nat the first hurdle when I was verbally bucked off head over heels over that\nfence. She’d said something about the countryside and working in it, and I\nshould have paid attention rather than focused on that deep sun-bronzed\ncleavage. ‘What did I think?’ was the only bit that registered.

In my spare time, I was a man of letters, a writer of short\nstories who’d also once penned jokes and monologues for a couple of well-known\ncomedians, plus been an occasional fourth wheel to a writing team on a TV\nsitcom that ran for three series. I regarded my wry, somewhat deadpan sense of\nhumour as a helpful chat-up tool, but it failed big time on this occasion.

Bernadette was looking at me intently, a glass of bubbly in\nhand, something to do with the countryside; what did I think of it or along\nthose lines? Easy-peasy, I’d thought, grinning at her and promptly sinking\nmyself with all hands. “Oh, I’m just a simple city type of guy, but I’ll grant\nyou all that empty green space comes in jolly useful for growing food-type\nstuff and breeding big Mac ingredients once you’ve knocked a few trees down! I\nmean all that open space available for building new housing estates, gas\nfracking, dumping litter from rock festivals pus adding new motorways, freeways\nas our colleagues across the pond would say, not to mention….”

The latter part was true, and I never got to mention\nanything else because she gave me a dark look, called me a moron, and told me to\n‘fuck off’ before disappearing into another room. Well, in my defence, she rode\nhorses for a living and didn’t look remotely like any of those anti-hunt,\ncountryside alliance types and Greenpeace freaks you see on the telly. Probably\na vegan to boot!

Mind you, even if I’d taken another tack, I doubt that we\ncould have established much of a relationship given my thoughts regarding the\ncountryside pretty much mirrored what I’d quipped. My only regret was that they\nhadn’t used up enough of it building a decent motorway in the direction I was\nheading in, and from my brief bit of research on google maps, it would soon be\ngetting worse, far worse. I hadn’t anticipated that I could have added ‘bloody\nimpossible’ before I reached my destination!

*****

I was right. A vintage Land Rover with four-wheel drive would\nhave been a better elderly vehicle for the final stages of my journey or that\nWorld War Two-era jeep another friend owned than my highly polished sixties\nspeed machine. It was great for turning heads, especially female ones, perhaps\ndown to its long sexy, almost phallic shape. However, not terribly clever when\nit came to potholes and similar. I’d even been warned about it by Robbie. He’d\nasked me if I still had my ‘antique’ transport and then advised me that he’d\nmake arrangements for me to leave my car with some guy who ran the local fuel\nfilling station and repair place in the old blacksmiths forge in the nearest\nvillage some eight miles from their place, and he’d come and collect me.

A warning I’d ignored for the first mile once I’d found the\nright track and then had the good sense to realise that if I continued along\nthat impossible obstacle course, every hundred yards of progress was probably\ngoing to knock a grand’s worth of value off my restored beauty not counting\nsuch essential things as the exhaust and suspension! I chickened out, returned\nto the village, and cut a deal with Owen, the garage guy Robbie had mentioned.\nFree storage providing he did no more than fifty miles tops on a decent road,\nno scratches or bumps, plus he filled the tank back up, deal? He agreed, and we\nshook on it, adding he’d also check everything for me, which is always helpful\non a very old vehicle that didn’t get much use.

Robbie turned up about thirty minutes after I’d phoned Bessie,\ngrinning all over his face. “You made it further than I thought you would” he\nlaughed and waved to Owen. “Evening Taff, you going to keep an eye on yon wee\nheap of old junk for him then?”

“Sure, will boyo, be a pleasure. Treat it like the Princess\nshe is, so I will. How’s Bessie? Has she gotten over the sniffles she had in\nthe post office last week?”

Robbie held the passenger door open, the door to his\ngleaming new 4 X 4, a Japanese monster, I noticed as he motioned me to take a\nseat. “Bessie’s well, Taff. Just a mild touch of hay fever. I’ll tell her you\nasked. Thanks for looking after the car. I’ll call and let you know when we’ll\npick it up” he waved and joined me, reaching for his seat belt.

“I’m only staying for the weekend”, I quickly reminded him.\n“He already knows when I’ll pick it up”.

“Robbie laughed and gave me an odd look, grinning all over\nhis face. “You said you’d got a week’s holiday?”

“Yes, but I don’t intend to spend all of it looking at bloody\nsheep!” I shot back.

Robbie chuckled. “Oh, I think we can find something more\ninteresting than sheep to look at. Besides, there aren’t any around our patch\nof mother nature in the raw. No pressure, but I think you may change your plans\na little. Don’t worry about your rusting status symbol. Taffy Own is all right;\nit won’t come to any harm with him, plus he’s a damn good mechanic. Fourth\ngeneration around here. His great-grandfather was the last full-time\nblacksmith, his grandfather was a mechanic and still shoed the odd horse, then\nhis father ran the garage and now Taff. His old mum still runs the post office\nnext door, one of those old girls who’ll die in harness without ever\nconsidering retiring. How’s yourself these days, anyhow?”

I was about to answer when another thought occurred to me.\n“Hey, how do you know how far I got up that wretched drive, track, pothole breeding\nground, whatever you call it?”

“Hah,” he laughed and grinned at me as he tapped the\nimpressive satnav stroke entertainment console. “Tech laddie, technology. The\nwonder of this modern age! Got security cameras in all sorts of places and\nalarms”.

I frowned at him. “Why, who in their right mind would try\nand break into anything out here? Anyway, why the sea change? I remember you\ntreated cell phones like live snakes and wouldn’t even use the TV remote!”

Robbie laughed again. “Only because I could never find the\nbloody thing! But that’s a good point, laddie, or boyo, as they say in these\nparts. Security is not always about keeping people out, you know. Damn useful\nfor keeping an eye on things you want to keep in when you’re in the livestock\nbusiness, sheep excepted, eh?” he chuckled and gave me a slow mischievous wink,\nthen had to hastily brake and reverse a few yards as he promptly missed his own\nturn-off adding. “Whoops!”

“So, you’ve finally succumbed to the modern age and finally\ngiven up on steam”, I teased as we slowly started up the track I’d recently\ngiven up on.

“Yup, had to, force of circumstances. Not quite a road to\nDamascus conversion, but not too different. Well, in one sense, very different,\nI suppose, but not in terms of the general meaning. Anyway, I was always a bit\nof a poser in that respect,” he laughed and added. “I did use the TV remote,\ncontrary to rumour, plus I had one of the first iPhones and Ipads, just didn’t\nflash them around much. Being regarded as an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy stick in\nthe mud often proved useful in the finance business! Hang on to your hat. Got\nto go very slowly over this bit, even in this bad baby.”

I grinned at him and grabbed the appropriate hold as the\nvehicle suddenly lurched to one side. Thank God I hadn’t decided to drive any\nfurther. Sly old devil, I thought he’d certainly pulled the old fuddy-duddy\ntech virgin bit off successfully, but why that mischievous wink? What was the\nstory behind that? The vehicle bumped heavily several more times and then lurched\nthe other way as he slowed right down. I looked ahead and shuddered, imagining\nwhat damage I’d have done to my low-slung Jag along that tortured Luna-like\nsurface.

I’d known Robbie and Bessie for about five years. I was\nthirty-four now, and they were about twenty years older. Robbie was a city\nbanker by profession, not one of the very top guys, but he’d undoubtedly\nclimbed high in his chosen career. Bessie was or had been in marketing and held\nresponsible senior positions in numerous well know high-street companies, and\nthey’d both enjoyed salaries that made mine look insignificant! I’d liked them\nboth from our first introduction at a party in Canada. There was something\nhomily and warm about them, comfortable even.

They were easy going, friendly and we shared a similar sense\nof humour and, of course, interests. Physically we had hardly anything in\ncommon. I was six feet one, lean, dark, and hairy, needing to shave at least\nonce a day and sometimes twice if I had an evening function to attend. Robbie and\nBessie were almost a matched pair barring sex and hair. Both were about five\nfeet five, somewhat rotund in shape, and in need of a regular workout that\nneither would ever contemplate, let alone partake in doing. Robbie was\nvirtually bald, bar a thin growth on either side and the rather pathetic\ncombover he persisted in maintaining despite being wholly inadequate insofar as\ncovering his pink pate. My fingers itched to grab a pair of scissors and put it\nout of its misery every time I saw it! Bessie at least maintained a full head\nof curls, although the colour tended to vary somewhat, and she didn’t do\nsubtle. It had been orange the last time I’d seen her, which didn’t sit particularly\nwell with her otherwise warm motherly appearance.

“A couple more miles,” Robbie said. “It gets better the\nnearer we get to the farm”.

I grinned at that. “Farm?” I queried. “I seem to recall\nbeing corrected when I said that getting on for a year ago!”

“Smallholding, farm, mini agricultural business, whatever!”\nhe grinned and laughed. “Hey, let's just call it what it is, a retirement\nhobby, eh?”

“Not bored then, yet?” I queried.

“Not one bit”, he chuckled and then turned, giving me that\nsame curious slow, sly wink before he chuckled again, adding, “You’ll see why\nsoon”.

I waited, but he seemed reluctant to say anything else, he just\nthrew a mischievous grin at me and concentrated on the road ahead, so I changed\nthe subject. “I read Bessie’s latest the other week and left a comment on both\nsites,” I told him.

He nodded. “Yes, thanks. She saw them and replied. I expect\nyou saw that. He nodded, adding, “Not one of her best efforts, I thought, as\nreflected by the lack of comments, but don’t you tell her I said that, laddie.\nYou know how touchy she can sometimes be. A couple of negative comments, and\nshe goes all moody for a week!”

I smiled. “Trust me, and I agree. I thought the ending could\nhave been a lot better. Judging by the comments left by her regular readers,\nseveral others seemed to think the same way.” I paused momentarily as we\nbounced over a large rut before adding, “I think people expected more given\nthat it’s the only story she’s put up in what, four months at least!”

“Been busy”, Robbie chuckled. “Anyway, who are you to talk?\nNot seen all that much from you lately, either. If things had been different,\nI’d have had to look elsewhere to stimulate the old love life or reread your old\nstuff. Some of your long serials must be growing cobwebs for lack of attention!\nThat new job is eating up your spare time and your kinky, creative interests!”

I nodded in agreement without speaking. He was on the ball\nwith that one. Bessie and I both wrote erotic literature as a hobby. We\npublished it on several internet fetish sites that specialised in artwork or\nstories of erotic bondage and domination. I tended to short stories and\nlong-running serials, while Bessie favoured long stories or novellas. That’s\nhow we’d met a few years before at an event in Canada. One site hosted a\ntongue-in-cheek annual awards ceremony for its assortment of perverted readers\nand authors once every two years.

This one was held in Vancouver, Canada and was the first and\nlast I attended, for it proved to be the final one. They were bought by a\ncompany that specialised in publishing erotic literature of all types. They\npromptly killed off the art side of the site but kept the story side as a\nsource of material and talent for their mail eBook business.

I’d been flattered by several invitations to publish my\nmeagre scribblings with some professional editing. I'd be the first to admit\nthat my spelling, grammar and punctuation had never been an overly sound\nfoundation, but so far, I’d declined. I wrote for fun, for my own perverse\nentertainment chiefly, and somehow, I suspected that fun element might\nevaporate if I started doing it for the occasional minuscule pay cheque.\nBesides, my stuff was rather nasty non-consensual stuff that I felt a twinge of\nguilt about, and somehow, I felt my privacy, which I valued, might suffer. Silly,\nI know, but that’s how I felt.

Bessie was my spiritual twin story-wise, for we frequently\nmirrored each other and, several times, had uploaded stories that were far too\nsimilar but quite unintentionally, for we’d not met or even corresponded at\nthat time. Indeed, reading some of the comments, it appeared that many of our\nreaders thought we were one and the same writing under two different names,\nwhich was somewhat understandable.

Bessie had accepted the new site owner’s publication offer\nentirely for vanity reasons, for she didn’t need the money. ‘I can see why\nauthors traditionally starve high up in their lofty garrets’, she’d laughed,\ntelling me how much she’d earned in six months, and that was without any\npublishing costs since they were eBooks. The novelty of seeing your name, your\npseudo name in print, soon wore off, as did her books on Amazon. They’d lasted\na fortnight before disappearing, presumably because her stuff was too hot for\ntheir growing conservative tastes.

By coincidence, we’d been seated at the same table for\ndinner at the hotel hosting the awards ceremony. We immediately recognised each\nother via our oversized pink badges sporting the names we wrote under. Bessie\nwas with her husband Robbie, and the three of us hit it off, as they say, immediately.\nThe first time any of us had attended the event, and somewhat successfully, to\nour mutual delight. We both ended the evening clutching a couple of hideous\ngold spray-painted plastic dildos mounted on little varnished wooden plinths,\nwith Bessie beating me on points as one of mine was smaller.

I took a winner for one chapter in a long-running serial and\na runner-up for a short story. Bessie took home two winners for her ‘Poppy the\nPonygirl’ and again for ‘Humans Make the Best Animals’. Both are excellent\ntales of dehumanising bondage and suffering. Also, among the ones that were too\nhot for Amazon, and that was after she’d already toned them down somewhat!

The three of us spent a couple of enjoyable days exploring\nVancouver as we were booked on the same British Airways flight back to London,\nalbeit in different cabins. However, Bessie took care of that since she\nconveniently happened to be working for them at that time. A call to a local\ncolleague discovered that business class wasn’t even half full, and I paid a\nsmall, almost minuscule amount to upgrade my ’cattle class’ ticket. Bessie had\nwanted to do that as well, but I insisted.

Well, all history now as Robbie and I bumped slowly towards\na growing huddle of grey stone buildings set against a bleak, windswept,\nvirtually treeless background of stone-faced hills. Our friendship had grown\nthrough our mutual interests and regular meetings as we all lived and worked in\nthe capital and even after they’d left for the wilds, via email and the odd\nSkype or phone call. Maybe that’s partly why our written output had fallen off\nbecause Bath and I had grown accustomed to bouncing ideas off one another. Our\nlittle mutual admiration society revolved mainly around the concept of human\nanimals, wretched innocents snatched from their everyday lives, dehumanised,\nand held captive in appalling primitive conditions.

Most of our stories and written material was along those\nlines, although we both occasionally ventured into other territories such as\nenforced feminisation which we found equally fascinating though very much a\nsecond subject compared to our primary interests. Thus, I was looking forward\nto spending a few days in this isolated abode they’d decamped to and using the\npair of them as sounding boards for the ideas I’d been jotting down recently.

My enthusiasm for hitting the keyboard and producing erotic\nfiction had been dormant of late, so I was looking forward to additional\nstimulation of the little grey cells. I also said so to Robbie and was somewhat\ntaken aback when he threw his head back and roared with laughter before telling\nme.

“Och, Laddie, I’m thinking it won’t be your little grey\ncells that’ll soon be getting a wee bit of stimulation, and I doubt it will be\nwee either after it does!” he laughed again and was still chuckling at the\nexpression on my face as we pulled into the neat little dirt yard between the\nvarious buildings of his farm, sorry, his smallholding scattering a meeting of assorted\nhens!

*****

“Better now! So how was your journey,” Bessie asked as I\nemerged from the downstairs washroom, making it sound like I’d just flown in on\nthe red eye from the States or crossed half of Europe. Bessie, I’d realised\nimmediately from the bear hug and shower of kisses, was in one of her motherly\nmoods despite the ‘punk rock’ vivid purple hair. Somehow she managed to appear\nboth big and small simultaneously, or so it seemed. Wider rather than higher,\nso perhaps medium might be more apt. Like Robbie, she was in her mid-fifties,\none of those women you couldn’t imagine ever looking young, who’d probably looked that age and kind of\nmotherly and homely from her mid-twenties onwards and never changed. She’d also\nbeen baking, adding to that comfortable, reassuring, homely aura.

“Not too bad. I made good time most of the way, no hold-ups\nor roadworks,” I told her, dusting some of the flour off that her hug had\ndeposited. “No problems till I got here and made that foolish attempt to take\nthe Jag down your extended front drive, sheesh! Next time I’ll brink a tank!”

Bessie laughed. “Yes, I saw you” She nodded to a\nwall-mounted flat-screen TV which was off by the look of the black screen. “I\nwas in the kitchen making up a batch of scones and saw you arrive when the\nbuzzer went off. I didn’t think it’d be long till that camera saw you heading\nout again. I told them that”.

I nodded. “Well, you were right”, and then as I reached for\nthe huge mug of coffee she’d produced, “Told who?”

Bessie laughed, clapping her hands, producing a small white\ncloud of flour dust. “Oh, piffle, time for that later. You sit there, drink\nyour coffee while it’s hot and loosen up a bit. Robbie, take his case upstairs\nand then, mmm” She twisted her lips and put her head on one side as she thought\nabout something. “Maybe, take our guest over to the barn while I clear up a bit\nand get on with dinner. Might as well start him off straight away; no point in\nshilly-shallying, is there?”

Robbie reached for my budget airline-approved carry-on case\nand hefted it. “Traveling light, I see. Nope, might as well get it over and\ndone with, as you say, Love. Worst-case scenario, I can always blow his head\noff and bury him in the back garden, I suppose” he nodded towards a shotgun\nmounted over the enormous open fireplace on a couple of wooden pegs, then\ngrinned and winked at me before heading for an open wooden staircase in the\ncorner.

“Oh, pay him no heed!” Bessie laughed. “Besides, I offered\nto bet him you’d not be the least bit bothered by things here, but he refused point\nblank to take me on. Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be needing that gun, not this\ntime, not for you anyway. Now drink up while it’s hot. Do you want a bun or a\nbiscuit or anything?”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t hungry. Curious, yes, very\ncurious suddenly by their rather odd behaviour. Not quite what I’d expected,\nbut then, thinking back, hadn’t they always been a bit unconventional despite\ntheir very conventional city occupations and lifestyle?

“Fish pie” for supper and homegrown greens, is that okay\nwith you?” Bessie’s head reappeared around a door frame, and I nodded.

“Fine,” I said as she withdrew presumably back into the\nkitchen and closed the door rather firmly. I remembered that they were both\nsort of vegetarians, after a fashion, you might say. They didn’t eat animal\nmeat, not very often anyway, but both ate fish, all dairy products, and\npoultry. Well, chicken, I didn’t know about Turkey or any other. Organic food\nwas another interest, and I’d always presumed that a desire to grow their own\nvegetables and the like had been partly responsible for their decision to quit\ncity life and bury themselves deep, very deep in this case, in the countryside.\n

Robbie clumped heavily down the wooden staircase, presumably\ngiving me an unnecessary thumbs-up to inform me that my small bag had been\nsuccessfully delivered to the guest room. Then he waved for me to join him and\nopened the front door.

“Come on, bring your mug if you want, no ceremony here. Got\nsomething to show you and might as well get it out of the way now before dinner,\nand we can chat about things as we eat” he held the door open and grinned.\n“Anyway, this place of ours isn’t big enough for secrets” Then he laughed and\ntook me lightly by the elbow as he escorted me across the farmyard towards a\nbig old barn on the opposite side. Like the house, the exterior showed signs of\nrecent renovation in that all the pointing between the old grey stones was new.\n“Well, that’s quite true, considering everything. It would be hard to hide\nthings from honoured resident visitors like yourself.”

“Honoured?”

“Oh yes, Laddie. VIP, you’ll be the first and” he chuckled,\nunlocking a massive padlock, then lifted the top of a small box covered with\nflaking green paint affixed to the wall beside the sizeable double steel doors.\n“Probably the only one I expect. Neither of us has any family, leastways none\nthat we are on ‘inviting to stay’ terms’ and who else would we invite besides\nyourself? Hang on a sec,” he added as he tapped on a small electronic keypad\nthat emitted a sound I was familiar with from work. I was a key holder, and the\nentrance door to our rented offices made precisely that same short electronic\nmusical sound as the alarm deactivated.

“D-Day,” Robbie said, closing the cover. “Remember that, and\nthe key to the padlock simply sits on the mantlepiece over the fire, the one in\nthe big living room back there, next to the clock Bessie inherited from her\ngrandmother.

“Eh?”

“Normandy invasion, think D-Day for the code, 060644. I\nexpect you’ll want to wander over here on your own while you’re here,” he\nlaughed and then muttered, “I must get some more oil on these bloody hinges,\nboth sides. I keep saying that to myself and then promptly forgetting. Damn,\nthings are new as well. “We had the doors changed because the old wooden ones\nwere rotten”, he grumbled, pulling open the left-hand door, which screeched in\nmetallic protest as he did so, and I took a couple of steps into the dark\ninterior. Robbie flicked on the lights, which was just as well, for there\nwasn’t much natural light inside. There was a dull gleam from above via some\nineffective skylights high above the rafters and heavy roof beams emitting\nvirtually no helpful illumination.

“Covered in half a century of muck and bird droppings, I\nexpect”, Robbie noted, my head tilted upwards. We thought about having them\ncleaned but decided against it. I kind of like the gloomy atmosphere in here,\nand the lights are on a rotary switch. Bessie usually cranks it right up, but I\nwas in here when your phone call came, and this is how I like it most times!”

I switched my gaze from the high roof to my host, wondering\nwhat was so fascinating or important that I’d been dragged over to see and why\nI might want to wander over on my own. I noted with some amusement that Robbie\nwas literally bobbing about with barely suppressed excitement for some odd\nreason. Then I saw it at the exact moment Robbie grabbed my arm again.

“Smell it?” he asked, taking a deep breath.

“Eh?” I Hardly heard what he’d said, my attention now entirely\nfocused on the animated figure in front of me in the central area beyond the\nentrance. Thinking of lights, a small green one promptly switched on in my\nbrain!

“The air, the atmosphere, that distinct aroma! Hell, you\nshould, laddie. You’ve written about it often enough, both you and Bessie!” he\ngrinned and mimed another deep breath intake while twirling both his forefinger\nround and round in front of him for some reason.

The barn was a bit deceptive and bigger on the inside than\nI’d have thought. As I’d noted, the exterior looked like some money had been\nspent on walls and big new-looking steel doors but not so the interior. It was\ndim even with the lights on, with no windows other than those murky skylights\noverhead. It was shabby and depilated, smelt old and musty, and my initial\nimpression was one of dusty cobwebs, aged grey timbers, and once white-washed\nstone walls now grey with age and years of accumulated filth. Hardly\nsurprising, though, considering it was an old barn that had probably been there\nfor a century or more and obviously never featured on anyone’s annual\nspring-cleaning list!

I felt my senses, sight, sound, smell, and hearing, were all\ndemanding exclusive individual attention rather than working simultaneously as\na team, which is the norm. That’s how our bodies function unless one had a\nskinful at the local boozer on a Saturday night. That is when coordination of\neverything goes out of the window! Yet somehow, this moment was different and\noutside the norm. My eyes flickered from what they’d first focused upon and\nthen back questioningly to Robbie as I instinctively took a conscious sniff\nobeying his urgings, that green light in the old brain box growing in insanity\nas my eyes returned to meet those of that figure in front of me.

Apart from that initial musty aroma, I smelt fresh grass,\npresumably from the big pile of green clippings to my right, evidently recently\ndumped on top of a blue plastic tarp. A strong smell of disinfectant seemed to\nbe vying for supremacy with other less pleasant but identifiable odours. Stale\nsweat, urine and even that of shit. I had a sudden vivid recollection going\nback to my teen years, one of those triggered memory flashes of helping my mum\nclean up after my bed-ridden grandfather had one of his ‘little accidents’. Not\nthat they ever seemed very little to me as I carried the stinking soiled bedding\nand whatever else down to the washing machine!

All that, though, was very much a subconscious background to\nwhere I was looking, “What the fuck?” the words came unbidden to my lips as\nthat green light in my mind instantly upped its rotary switch to full\nilluminating brilliance. “It’s…he’s real, isn’t he?”

“Ah, you’ve twigged”, Robbie chuckled, rubbing his hands\ntogether. “Rather spoilt it didn’t I leaving him out like that. I’d meant to\nput him back in his stall before letting you lose. Let you soak up the\natmosphere from the entrance first, so to speak, but then Bessie stuck her head\nin to say you’d called and were waiting on me down the village, so I didnae\nbother. Well, no matter and he’s seen you now. Come and say hello to Dopey. Meet\nyour first alive and kicking captive ponyboy. He does as well, given half a\nchance!”

He reached out again to take my arm, gently pulling me\nforward. However, his touch hardly registered, nor did I need that gentle tug\nto galvanise me as the full meaning of what I was seeing and his accompanying\nwords penetrated my stunned brain. I took a couple of paces forward, my eyes\nriveted on the strange figure bending towards me over some hurdle or similar\napparatus.

I was looking down at a restrained man, a large male, maybe in\nhis mid-forties or thereabouts. The man, or pony for he was garbed or harnessed\nin the fashion Besssie and I had so often written about, was highly animated.\nHe desperately tried to attract my attention, shaking his head from side to\nside as best he could and making odd, muted noises from behind the fat bit,\nstretching his mouth. His eyes seemed to bulge outward from his futile effort\nto communicate. Age, I was guessing from body build and what little I could see\nof his face, largely obscured by his head bridle. His head was shaved bald bar,\na stubby central kind of Mohican cut running from his forward hairline to the\nnape of his neck.

“Getting a bit fuzzy on the sides and elsewhere”, Robbie\nnoted. “We have a thorough grooming, shaving and trimming session usually every\nthird Sunday as a rough rule. I can’t say I’m that fussy apart from the mane,\nbut Bessie has a thing about body hair on them. You’ll remember that from her\nstories, no doubt?”

I nodded absently, focusing all my attention on the agitated\nfigure squirming before me, making those incoherent squeals and moaning grunts.\nThat mouth bit was making understandable speech impossible for the man. He was\nwriggling against the straps that held him down, his upper body twisting and\ntrying to free himself from the tight leather arm glove that imprisoned his\narms to the shoulder.

“He seems kind of desperate to communicate with you”, Robbie\nobserved with a wicked chuckle picking up a nasty-looking leather riding crop.\n“I wonder why?” he grinned and then, walking to the other end of the hurdle,\ndelivered three vicious strokes to the helpless man’s bottom, then beckoned to\nme. “He’s excited because he hasn’t seen a new face for a long time. Now stop\nthat foolishness right now, Dopey. He’s not going to release you, so stop being\nsilly” He waved to me again. “Come take a peek at him from this end.”

The helpless figure had emitted several muted shrieks of\nanguish as the vicious crop descended across his buttock cheeks. Still, his\nfrantic movements slowly subsided into a less energetic writhing as though to\nalleviate the pain that crop must have caused him. Robbie appeared entirely\nunconcerned and stood holding it in his right hand, tapping the end gently on\nthe palm of his left hand as he looked at me.

I hesitated, looking first at him and then back to that squirming\nmoaning figure, for there was a question uppermost in my mind but one I was\nreluctant to ask because I suspected what the answer would be. I was equally\nconscious of a rising sense of excitement, which was partly at odds with my\nconscience as an upright, honest, law-abiding citizen, and I already knew which\nof the two would win out.

The rear view of the helpless, restrained and harnessed man\nconfirmed my suspicions immediately, and a wicked thrill coursed through my\nbody that lingered unbidden in my groin and wasn’t going to depart anytime soon,\nI sensed. From this angle, I could see the mass of raised welts on Dopey’s rump,\nthe latest purpling. A drop of blood from the most recent was trickling down\none buttock. I could see many old and new marks forming a lattice across his\nback, rear and legs, the signs of previous beatings. One odd angry red, shaped\ncircular pattern caught my eye prominently high up on his right buttock. It\nlooked like a funny letter in a circle. I realised with shock that he’d been\nbranded!

“Made a bit of a mess with that one”, Robbie remarked\nnonchalantly as if discussing a brand deliberately and cruelly burnt into the\nbottom of a fellow human being was a perfectly natural subject for casual\nconversation. “Leastways, Bessie did. She had it made especially. It's supposed\nto represent our initials in a circle. She even registered it in the US at a\nsite specialising in ranch cattle and similar brands. The Circle RB joined. The\nR is reversed with the back of the B doing for both and set in a circle. Only\nshe jiggled the iron just at the critical moment, plus he moved a tad because\nhe wasn’t tied down tight enough, so ...well, you can see the result. ”

I stared at him wide-eyed and subconsciously nodding and\nhalf wondering why I wasn’t shocked or standing there spluttering with outrage.\nAs previously stated, I was a law-abiding citizen, wasn’t I? One who’d never\nonce troubled those responsible for upholding the law. Not so much as a\nspeeding ticket to my name, let alone anything worse. Not even a parking ticket\nor a reminder for an unpaid or overdue bill! I still had to ask the question\neven though I knew the answer, and I’d certainly be guilty of compounding a\nfelony or whatever, wouldn’t I? However, that was no longer important, not when\ncompared to that stirring in my groin that was overriding everything else.

I took a deep breath. “He’s real, isn’t he” My nod, this time\ndirected towards that hapless writhing figure strapped to the apparatus before\nme. “I mean…” I trailed off for a second, my conscience seemingly unwilling to\ncross a particular bridge because I felt that once Robbie answered, I’d be as\nguilty as my hosts were of perpetrating a major criminal offence. My lips\nmoved, but hardly an audible sound emerged. “Non-consensual?”

Robbie winked at me, not needing to hear to understand. “Of\ncourse it is, laddie”, he laughed. “Why do you think we moved way out here beyond\nthe borders of civilised living? Well, almost beyond,” he conceded, grinning at\nme. “Hell, if we’d wanted to amuse ourselves pandering to the whims of\nmasochistic perverts, we could have done that without leaving London., No shortage of them\nthere, I expect and willing to pay, not that we needed the money!” he shrugged\nand chuckled wickedly, patting the helpless man on his whip-scared bottom.\n“Whereas this fine animal and his brood provide us with a vastly more\nsatisfying level of entertainment! Here have a squeeze of real captive human\npony flesh. Go on, help yourself. It's not as if this fine beast is a stranger\nto it!” he laughed.

I looked from him, down at that helpless figure, and back to\nRobbie, who smiled, nodding encouragingly. “Dopey isn’t exactly able to object,\nis he? None of them are; that’s the beauty of the situation for us. Your call\ncaught me with my pants down, literally. I was vigorously engaged in giving\nthis stubborn creature another demonstration of my mastery over it when Bessie told\nme you were waiting down at Taff’s place.” He gave a cruel laugh, scrapped\nsomething off the guy’s raised butt hole, and held it out for inspection.

“Essence of Master Robbie, eh” he laughed, wiggling the\nfinger. “The overspill as it were, and we know where most of it always ends up,\ndon’t we, my handsome stallion” he gave the guy’s scarred left buttock cheek a\nhard slap which set the still figure to groaning and wriggling again.

It took a second or two for his meaning to sink in, and then\nI gawped open mouth at him for a moment. “You were fucking him?” I gasped.

Robbie smiled and patted the man’s mutilated bottom again. “Dopey\nhere isn’t the most tractable of animals. Bessie thinks we should geld the\nunruly bastard to quieten him down.” He shrugged indifferently. “Maybe we will\nat some point but for now, I want to keep him intact” he grinned and reached\ndown to grasp the man’s captive, caged penis. “Quite an impressive specimen.\nBut leaving him whole adds that bit more when I use him to enjoy what we deny\nhim. He viciously squeezed the man’s heavy ball sack and stood up, chuckling at\nthe muted noise and frenetic movement his cruelty had initiated.

“Somehow, it adds that bit extra to my mastery of the big\nbeast that wouldn’t quite be the same if we deprived him of certain important bits.\nMind you, like I said, all that may change in the future! I almost always give\nin to Bessie once she’d made her mind up about something!” He gave me a tight\nlittle smile and added. “Makes for a quieter life, and I’d close it if I were\nyou; this place tends to attract more than a few flies.

I realised what he meant and promptly shut my mouth because\nmy jaw had dropped a while back. “Jeesuusss!” I whispered, looking down at the man’s\ngaping anus and then back to my grinning companion. “Jesus!” I repeated in\nshocked awe as my brain struggled to process what I saw and heard.

“Actually, this animal was one of the reasons we moved here,\nthe main one, in fact. ” Robbie gestured around the big stable. “To this part\nof the country. Well, not this particular animal as such, but the idea was to\nfind a suitable retirement spot first and then acquire it. We spent the better\npart of two years, weekends and holidays, driving the length and breadth of the\ncountry. You wouldn’t believe how many isolated places there are in our\nso-called overcrowded little island.”.

I was listening or half listening as I looked around me,\ntaking in my surroundings which so far I’d ignored. Hardly surprising when you\nconsider that Dopey was the first thing I’d seen upon entering the building.\nNot a sight I’d expected to see and certainly not something you see every day! Not\nsomething I’d ever expected to see outside the perverted outpouring of my mind\nthat I typed into my laptop and the art on certain websites.

Inside the stable was a long room, open above the old roof\nrafters and beams supporting grey slate roof tiles. Further down was a sizeable\ndoorless opening leading to a dimly illuminated area beyond. To my left was an\nextended workbench with a big vice, various tools, and assorted spools for rope\nand chain. A large charcoal barbecue with a gas bottle stood next to it.

“Double use,” Robbie said, having ceased his monologue to\nwatch me instead. “Frying burgers or heating a branding iron.” He chuckled.\n“Bessie’s determined to have another go at this animal, only she can’t decide\nwhether to try and correct the original botch up or maybe do it afresh\nsomewhere else!”

That produced a loud if muted, exclamation from Dopey, who\nprobably strained his neck muscles, twisting his head around to stare up at me\nwith that same desperate expression. I ignored it, of course. I felt strangely\nelevated compared to him, and it wasn’t just because he was on that low hurdle,\nwell, not quite. It was more like I was on an entirely different level of\nexistence than him, and it was a rather odd and not to say empowering feeling!

“Nothing wrong with the fuckers hearing, is there?” Robbie laughed\nas we‘d both seen that sudden futile desperate movement from the restrained man\nat his words so casually spoken. I could understand that, for I’d felt a chill myself\nas Robbie spoke, my eyes straying back to that innocent-looking barbecue again.

“Anyway, we finally\nsettled on this place.” Robbie continued. “Isolated but not too isolated. House\nwas in pretty good nick compared to quite a few properties we’d seen. It didn’t\nneed much doing to it. All the outside buildings we might need plus a decent\nbit of land ready cultivated. The village is near enough to be useful yet far\nenough away not to bother us. Mains electricity, although we have a few natural\nalternatives, not just solar or wind,” he chuckled again and winked at me\nbefore continuing. “Even a half-decent internet connection and wait till you taste\nthe water. Got our very own spring, which comes from the hills, ice cold even\nin summer. None of your chlorinated muck here. We knew we’d found our\nShangri-la within a few minutes of being here and made an offer the same day!

“Everything except a decent approach road!” I noted sourly,\nwondering if their friend Taffy would find anything amiss with my suspension.

Robbie laughed loudly and shook his head. “By no means,\nladdie! Yon axle breaker was one of the main attractions for us. Promising, we\nthought from the first when the agent told us to leave our car at the village\ngarage, and he’d take us up for a look-see in his four-by-four. Good as a moat\nand drawbridge around a medieval castle when it comes to keeping unwanted or\ncurious besiegers out, almost,” he\nchuckled.

“So, I noticed; I gave up fairly quickly!”

Robbie laughed. “I’ll bet someone else not that far away\nwishes he’d done the same”, then continued. “We had that knocked through when\nthey did the doors and outside”, Robbie pointed to the opening down the end.\nThere was an old stable on the other side tacked onto this, but you had to walk\nall the way around for the entranceway. Seemed daft to us but then maybe our requirement\nis different to what there was back in those days!”

I nodded, still looking around. There was another long bench\non the opposite side with cupboards and drawers underneath, lots of straps and\nbits of leather tack hanging on a row of pegs above. Next to it was an area\nwhere the wall had been covered in white tiles like a large shower area, only\nthere were no shower heads, just a curled-up hose pipe hanging from a hook\nnearby. The dirt floor gave way to a raised area of damp concrete slightly\nsloped back towards the gulley at the back below the tiles with two covered\ndrain points on either end.

Between the tiled area and the wall down the end were\nnumerous pieces of furniture, some padded, some not and most fitted with various\nstraps. They were an odd-looking collection, but I knew what they were and what\nwicked purpose they served. On the opposite side of the opening in the wall,\nunder a long shelf full of assorted sex toys, was a long rack of whips,\npaddles, floggers, canes and similar ominous implements.

“All the comforts of home, ensuite bathroom facilities”,\nRobbie commented, nodding to the wet area and then pointing to the opposite\nside. That’s the ready-use stuff”, he added, indicating the bales of straw and\nassorted plastic sacks stored on that side near that horrible barbecue, various\ngarden tools, and a pair of wheelbarrows. “Bedding and floor covering stuff. We\nkeep the bulk of it in the other barn along with the outside pony stuff.”

“More!” I exclaimed in surprise, looking at the considerable\npile of hay bales and coloured plastic sacks denoting different materials.\n“Hell, Robbie, there’s enough to last a year and more already. Are you\nexpecting a troop of cavalry or something to put in an appearance, or do you\nmuck him out every half hour? I nodded towards Dopey.

“Nope, every couple of days unless someone’s got a bad dose\nof the trots.” He paused and grinned at me, noting I’d abruptly gone somewhat\nridged and silent. “You know, the Delhi belly, as they used to call it back in\nthe good old days of empire. The Rangoon rot and so forth! It tends to stink\nthe place out a bit. Bessie’s weird, she likes the damn stench, the stinkier,\nthe better, but my somewhat oversized\nnasal organ can only take so much…ah!” he finished with a grin, seeing where I\nwas looking. “Ah, twigged, have you? Proverbial penny finally dropped?”

“He’s not the only one here, is he?” I asked, speaking\nslowly, more to calm myself than for effect, as I looked towards the opening in\nthe wall at the far end and into that dimly lit space beyond the entrance. Was\nthat a hint of movement I could see through the big opening? Yes, a distinct\nrustling of straw or something similar!

“Nope, not the only one” Robbie gave a decidedly wicked\nlaugh and then grinned at me in an equally evil way rubbing his hands together.\n“Talk about getting lucky, kids in a candy shop and all your Christmases coming\nat once! Bessie and I are still pinching ourselves,” he looked sideways at me.\n“Hey, talking about that awful entry track of ours, you wouldn’t be in the\nmarket for a virtually brand new, top-end 4x4 SUV, would you? I just happen to\nhave one gathering dust in another old outbuilding, with only one previous\ncareless driver! Not that I’d recommend driving it in public, not without a\nchange of number plates and maybe a complete respray!” he chuckled, adding,\n“And don’t expect any accompanying paperwork!”

I looked at him for a long moment, then at Dopey before my\ngaze returned to that opening in the far wall or rather into the gloom beyond,\nthen finally back to my grinning host. “How many?” I croaked, for my mouth and\nthroat had suddenly gone very dry.

Robbie gave an exaggerated indifferent shrug. “Well, it was\nonly a seven-seater!” he said with a perfectly straight face.

My jaw dropped at the implication of his slightly apologetic\nstatement, which he immediately confirmed by adding yet another evil chuckle. “We’d\nbeen making all sorts of wicked plans for filling a single stall, and then, as\nI said, Christmas came early in the shape of one big shiny metallic green\npackage just crammed full of goodies!”

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