Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get The Blues

Chapter 27. Kate is Auctioned

(Even Ponygirls Sometimes Get the Blues, by Aurelius)

The story so far:

(Ch. 22) La Plata. In the dungeon. Jessica faces the guillotine.

(Ch. 23) On board the Slave to Fortune.

(Ch. 24) The Slave to Fortune lands at Rabbit Island. Jessica in the cell block.

(Ch. 25) The hi-tech cells. Stories of ponygirls in exile.

(Ch. 26) Just Desserts. Rude food.

THE SURGERY

Kate was untied from the dessert trolley, vowing never to eat a tangerine again, having been gagged with one for the previous three hours. She was permitted to eat the scraps of food left on table and her own body. Such was her hunger she wasn't squeamish about eating the banana which had nestled inside her vagina all evening. After being hosed and scrubbed down in the kitchen's back yard she was permitted to dress and make her weary return to the surgery.

Doctor Schmidt treated the lacerations around Kate's wrists and ankles, as well as the deep indentations the breast bondage inflicted upon her. He did nothing about the pinprick marks scattered over her breasts, deciding they would heal just fine.

He wasn't particularly sympathetic towards his nurse. "Shall I tell you about real suffering?" he asked her, not for the first time. And Kate, as on those previous times, declined his offer and ceased her complaining. The doctor dressed her wrists and ankles in bandages and surgical tape, more than would normally be necessary for such injuries, but not all his patients had to sleep in chains.

They had an unwavering nightly routine. At the doctor's command, Kate laid down on a cushioned mat, which she had earlier removed from a cupboard and unrolled into one corner of the surgery. A set of four chains were draped ready, each fixed to the same metal ring in the wall six inches above the floor. The doctor watched as Kate secured her own ankles and then her wrists into their respective metal cuffs. It left her wrists chained loosely behind her back, ensuring first that she wasn't free to wander, and second, that she would not touch herself in the night. Kate pulled her pillow into position with her teeth, and laid the side of her head on in.

The second part of their routine came later, when the doctor covered her with a sheet immediately before turning off the surgery lights. This simple act was the only tenderness he ever showed her. After covering her, he stroked her tenderly, a touch too intimate to be parental but not sensuous enough to be that of a lover. It was, Kate began to think, how someone strokes a much-loved pet dog. Invariable she closed her eyes as the doctor petted her, his touch affirming her place and her value as his nurse. She'd be deeply unsettled if ever he failed to provide this simple comfort.

THE ROTATING EXERCISER

Ranulph Markham was a man of his word, which may be good news or bad, depending on what he had promised.

For Rachel and Linsey it meant being dragged from their beds at six o'clock, with not a hint of dawn in the sky. Bruce, who's own ponygirls were on the late shift - not starting until midday - had volunteered to put them through their paces.

Rachel and Linsey were firm friends after their time together on the Slave to Fortune, and even as Ranulph Markham informed them of their punishment for gluttony at the dessert table they shared a smile. Like many slave girls, they were curious to discover first-hand what being a ponygirl was really like. All that intimate harnessing, the elegance and poise, the discipline, the training, and the firm way the drivers handled them. It looked easy enough, particularly watching the likes of Jessica and Debbie going through their paces.

They were still smiling, even after Bruce had brought them into the chilly pre-dawn air, and harnessed and bridled them. They revelled in the leathery caress of the practical harnessing, biting and chewing on the real rubber-covered bits between their teeth.

The fun didn't last. They weren't allowed to wear the heel-less pony boots as they'd hoped. Normal running shoes would suffice. And instead of being harnessed side-by-side in front of a cart, Bruce led them into the corral, the grassy fenced-off area beyond the main lawn. There wasn't a cart for them in the corral either, only the rotating exerciser, the merciless device used to train new and unfit ponygirls.

The 'rotor' as the drivers called it, consisted of a central vertical pole, which rotated at its base, and radiating from the top of the pole, two rigid, braced arms, 15 metres in length and 6 feet above the ground. Bruce fixed Rachel to the end of one arm, clipping the dangling cables to the securing points on the back of her harness. Linsey received the same treatment on the opposite side, 30 metres away.

Bruce wielded his horse whip, beating Rachel's thighs and calves until she made some satisfactory high steps. He walked around the circuit with her, obliging Linsey to walk at the same pace on the opposite end of the metal arm.

Then Bruce stood and waited for Linsey to arrive. Her ungainly attempts at pony stepping had him tutting and shaking his head before she was even close to him. She endured the lashing of his whip and his tongue as he taught her the basic ponygirl steps. She hadn't been yelled at like that since the days of the school hockey team.

"Get those knees up, you lazy slut. C'mon, work those thighs. Move it! Your master has been spoiling you. If you don't get in shape he'll probably sell you to a pig farm." His whip landed hard on her haunches, reminding Linsey that this wasn't a game. If Bruce's aim was to make her cry, he'd succeeded.

After a few laps of near constant whipping, Linsey settled in a acceptable trot. Like a donkey rather than a pony, Bruce commented. She found it hard going, and bitterly regretted her greed at the dessert table. Bruce left her to complete the circuit on her own, alone but for the distant vibrations of Rachel being transmitted across the thirty metre span of rotor.

On the rotor's central pole Bruce set the counter mechanism to 100. With a strike of his whip against Rachel's rump he sent them on their way: 100 laps of a 100-metre circumference equalled 10,000 metres. Approximately 6 miles.

The two ponygirl tourists continued to plough their circular furrow in the morning gloom. Bruce had gone for a coffee leaving the lap counting to the counting device.

The Lodge was just a dark outline against the sky a hundred yards away, going in and out of the ponygirls' view in the course of each circuit. While most of the island's population of masters and slaves continued to sleep soundly in their beds, Rachel and Linsey trotted in lonely isolation.

They learnt the hard way that they needed to work together, to run at a pace both could maintain without causing the rotor to jolt and unbalance them. It was easier said than done when your partner was thirty yards away, on the opposite end of the huge rotating arm. Ponygirl life was proving a big disappointment.

A half-hour later Bruce returned, far from pleased by their lack of progress. He had a sure-fire way to get them running faster, swiping their butts with his whip each time they passed him. They quickly learnt that the faster they ran past him, the more difficult it was for Bruce to land a solid hit on their rumps. He laughed at the look of terror in their eyes each time they approached, seeing his whip ready and poised to strike.

There was however, one positive moment. Running the last few dozen laps, these novice ponygirls experienced a mesmerising and unforgettable sunrise.

THE COMMITTEE

Kate slept well that night, appreciating that the doctor's bandages had cushioned her chaffed wrists from their steel bracelets. She always rose after the doctor, due to his holding the keys to her sleeping chains.

After she had made his toast and milky coffee, Kate commenced her work cleaning the surgery. Every morning she spent two hours scrubbing floors, wiping surfaces and carrying out other periodic tasks, in order to maintain the surgery as she liked it. This morning the doctor seemed engrossed with a textbook, and writing out notes, coughing and mumbling to himself as he did so. Kate crawled naked on her hands and knees as she wiped the floor around and under him. Dr Schmidt never said anything to her, but how could he not enjoy having an attractive naked young woman happily scrubbing the floor around him every morning?

The phone rang.

As the doctor listened to the caller, Kate could sense by his telltale glance that it concerned her.

He put down the receiver. "You must go to the committee room in half an hour," the doctor said in his typically neutral tone.

Kate finished up her cleaning, took a shower, made up and dressed in her white stockings and suspenders, and skimpy white apron. Finally she pinned a clean nurse's cap in her short blonde hair. She came out of the bathroom and turned her back to the doctor to allow him to tie the apron strings at her neck and waist.

"Hands," he said. She crossed her wrists behind her to await their binding. He wrapped and tied a latex tourniquet tube around her wrists, holding them tightly in the small of her back. Thus bound, she was properly presented for her interview with the committee members.

Kate walked across the courtyard and entered the Lodge on her own, finding Erik waiting for her in reception. His half-hearted smile had a subtext of pity that she found disconcerting. He asked her to wait until summoned. "Talk to Nancy," he suggested.

Nancy could not talk back. She was held in a strictly roped hog-tie in the centre of a low platform. The black straps and a bright red ball of her ballgag harness complemented the immaculate white ropes perfectly. This was part of her six months of punishment: a real-life bondage artwork, an erotic talking point for people passing through reception.

The edges of Nancy's platform functioned as seating for people passing through the reception area. Kate sat down at Nancy's side gripping her arm with her own bound hands, unsure whether she was giving or seeking reassurance.

After ten minutes sitting in tense silence, the committee room door opened and Erik ushered Kate inside.

Five men sat behind long desk facing her, including Master Alex sat at one end, as if he had become a peripheral figure. Kate was invited to kneel on the floor in the middle of the room.

"Do you know why you are here?" The Chairman, seated in the centre asked.

She swallowed, and said meekly, "Yes, I do."

"Then you know that this situation will not be allowed to continue."

Kate nodded and hung her head.

"You will be allowed to stay on Rabbit Island while your details are circulated to other slave owners, in the hope of a reasonable offer. Priority will be given to those who are experienced in handling childbirth and its resulting transactions. It is highly likely that you will be sent back to La Plata, where the child was conceived. I believe that Madame Cavallo is very eager to have you back in her breeding stock, and has already made an offer. Another offer is also in preparation, but I doubt it will exceed hers."

"Could I stay on Rabbit Island if I had a termination?" Kate asked.

"Terminating your pregnancy is not an option; rather it's your current role as a nurse which will be terminated. Erik will escort you to the induction cells where you will stay until the sale is concluded." He pressed a speaker button on the desk. "Erik? You may take her to the cells now."

Kate glanced up at Master Alex, hoping he might say something. He wasn't smiling, but nor was he impassive. He seemed uncomfortable; not meeting her eyes, and tapping his pencil lightly on a notepad.

While Erik was escorting her to the cells, their paths crossed with Riccardo's. Kate rushed to him pressing her body against his. She felt his arms fold lightly around her, and yearned to do the same to him.

"They're selling me, Riccardo." Kate sobbed. "I didn't want to get pregnant. I had no choice. I tried to resist, really I did! I don't want to go away from here."

"You'll be fine," Riccardo casually consoled her. He wasn't as upset by her news as Kate expected and hoped he would be. He kissed her briefly on the forehead and walked off, saying he had a meeting to attend.

Erik pushed Kate into the cell, coincidentally the same one Jessica had occupied. He untied her hands and made her strip. Kate cried, not for her imminent nudity, nor that her bunny chains were laid on the bed waiting to claim her again, but that her nurse's uniform, and all it signified, was being taken from her. She was scarcely aware of Erik encircling her neck with the leather collar. He snicked the padlock closed under her chin and spun her around to fix her wrists in the cuffs dangling behind her.

He'd seen many slaves falling apart as they realised the hopelessness of the situation, but never Kate. Not until now. Finally, she was broken.

* * *

"I need more time."

The chairman laughed. "And supposing you manage to raise the money. Then what? She's a slave. There are security issues to consider. You can't return her back to normal life. If she doesn't betray you, she'll betray the people of Rabbit Island. We can't allow that to happen."

Riccardo was ready for that line of argument. "I'm negotiating with someone who can provide the security."

The chairman tried a more sympathetic approach. "Riccardo. Are you sure you are doing the right thing? Spending your whole life savings on a slave? It's even more expensive to keep a slave than a wife with a shoe fetish. Believe me, I've done both."

Others at the table laughed politely. Riccardo didn't, and nor did Alex.

Riccardo waited for the smile to drop from the chairman's face. "Sir, if I place the highest offer, and meet the security conditions, then can I have her?"

The chairman shrugged. "Yes."

"That's all I need to know. Good day, gentlemen!"

Riccardo made his exit without further comment, leaving the committee bemused, but not impressed. They'd seen it all before.

"You can love a slave, but you can't be a slave to love," the Chairman commented, glancing imperiously at the men on either side of him. The others, including Master Alex this time, mumbled their agreement.

ALEX'S SECRET

Ranulph Markham took a coffee and bacon roll outside, and walked towards the corral to check on the progress of his companion slave. He was just in time to watch the last five laps. When the hundred laps were completed the rotor automatically locked to prevent further rotations. Bruce noticed Markham's disappointment and went to the central pole of the rotor to add ten more laps.

"It must have jammed!" Bruce joked as he whipped Linsey's backside to get her running again. He walked over to Markham to continue the conversation, leaning on the opposite side of the corral's wooden fence.

"Great job, Bruce. I do believe this'll do Linsey some good," Markham commented. Watching his near-constant companion, running lap after lap in nothing but a harness and a film of perspiration was arousing him. "What happens next?"

"It's break time. I'll give them water, and a couple of sugar lumps, ten minutes to recover, then I'll fix them to weighted sulkies for some strength work. If you come back later, and she has performed well, you can take her for a ride."

Markham laughed. "Now there's an offer!"

He took his leave from the corral and headed for Master Alex's office, where a satellite internet connection enabled him to keep abreast of business affairs in London.

Alex returned to his office, explaining the unfolding events of the committee room to Markham. The wealthy Englishman had taken a liking to Riccardo and the cute blonde slave, whose family home, he discovered, was only twenty miles from his Hampshire estate.

"My friend, by rights she should be returned to La Plata. She's carrying a baby that was bred to exact specifications, a Mediterranean man and a blonde woman. These children all go to happy loving homes of people who can afford to give them every advantage in life."

Alex gave a sigh. "If they could only see how that child was conceived!"

"That's not the point. Who are we to make moral judgements? Cavallo has her business and her way of doing things and she's willing to pay a good price."

"And what about Riccardo?"

"He needs saving from himself. He should not be ruled by circumstance," Markham said bluntly. Alex always admired and respected Markham's hard-headed logic, the sign a successful businessman and slave-owner. Alex regretted remaining silent, as Markham's pale blue eyes met his.

Markham turned the conversation. "You wouldn't ever find yourself ruled by circumstance, would you?"

It was a rhetorical question, and a provocation. A simple yes or no wouldn't suffice, and Alex knew it. He settled in his chair and composed his thoughts for a moment.

"I never thought so, but times change and so do people. I'm tired of all the travelling and leading a double life. I want to change my life, before it changes me."

"And does this anything to do with your ponygirl friend?"

Ponygirl friend! Alex ignored Markham's gentle teasing, but couldn't stop himself from talking about her. "She's not the cause of it, but she's an indicator of my recent state of mind. It could have been any slave until..."

"Until what! Out with it, man, we've been here before."

Alex took a deep breath. "It happened six months ago. I was out for lunch in an Italian diner in Brooklyn one day, meeting with Taylor Grange."

"Oh yes I remember him. How is Dr Grange, these days?"

"He's well, but this doesn't really concern him."

"Oh?" Markham was becoming intrigued.

"Taylor and I were talking about the far east, and my lecture tour to Thailand and Malaysia. You know, just catching up on things. Then Taylor was bleeped and had to rush back to Brooklyn Infirmary. I stayed to finish my lunch, having time to kill before my next meeting…

"The proprietor of the joint, an Italian guy, struck up a conversation after I'd complimented him on the food. He seemed happy, quite a joker in fact, but I detected something troubling him. He'd probably heard us talking about psychotherapy, and I assumed he wanted professional advice. It was also possible that he'd read one of my books. Or perhaps he wanted me to sign one of my books for him?

"But no, he hadn't any idea who I was, nor did he want to talk to a shrink. Instead, he wanted to talk about Thailand. I asked had he been there. He said no, but his daughter had. She'd gone there last year as a backpacker, but had never returned, nor even made contact…

"I liked the guy; I truly did, and felt very sorry for his loss. He asked if I could do something next time I visited Bangkok. You know, make some enquiries, distribute some photographs and so on."

"Why didn't he travel to Bangkok himself, if he cared that much about his daughter?" Markham asked.

"His wife was badly hurt in a car wreck, and he couldn't leave her. She broke her legs and back but was recovering well. What struck me about him was his passionate optimism that his daughter was still alive somewhere. I told him that he should never give up hope. We went on to talk about other things, like baseball. He was a New York Mets fan, and I'm a Yankee fan as I'm sure you know. I joked I'd rather be at the Met than watching them. A typical Italian, that comment piqued his interest as I suspected it would, given that he shared his surname with Italy's most famous composer. We joked about that, and he suddenly burst into song, La Donna è Mobile! He was pretty good, a fine lyric tenor. I applauded him, and he tore up the check, tossing the pieces in the air like confetti...

"I asked if he ever went to the opera. He said he hadn't been for a long while. I told I knew somebody at the house who could get heavily discounted tickets. I sent him a pair a couple of days later."

Markham feigned indignation. "You never told me you could get discounted tickets!"

"Ranulph! I can't!" said Alex. "I just wanted to repay him for the meal, without seeming to go overboard."

"I'm still confused. What does this man have to do with anything?"

Alex swallowed, recalling a particular moment. "As I was leaving the restaurant he gave me a photograph of his daughter, and asked me once again to look out for her when I next went to Bangkok. And if I saw her, to tell her how much her mom and dad loved her."

Markham exhaled, and settled himself in his chair and rubbed his cheek. "The photograph? Is it who I think it is?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

Markham just nodded, patting Alex sympathetically on the shoulder. "And that's why you're so determined this ponygirl goes through the memory erasing program?"

"Yes. I'd actually promised it to Jessica, I mean ponygirl Jessica, before that chance meeting with her father. She'll be one of the first to go through the program, not counting Cavallo's failed attempt to use it to long before it was properly developed."

"Oh, you mean the armless girl. Janie?"

"Yes, Janie. She didn't make the grade as a ponygirl on La Plata, so Cavallo decided to use her as a pawn in absurd game. She marked Janie with a Rabbit Island tattoo, gave her the drug treatment and set her free on a beach in Thailand. She expected that the trail would lead back to Rabbit Island." Alex laughed. "Foolish vain woman. She almost got away with it, but then she discovered that Rabbit Island fights back."

Markham gave a coughing laugh. "Well at least their slaves do. One of your slaves cut off Cavallo's arms."

"Let's be accurate. Cavallo's own surgeons did it. Kate only engineered the situation in order to save Jessica."

"My Lord! What is it with those two slaves? I can't decide if they're the luckiest or the unluckiest people I've ever met."

Alex shrugged. "Perhaps they are the luckiest unlucky people?"

Markham paused to reflect. "Yes I like that! Makes for an interesting life I'll bet. Now, let's get to the point. You want me to help Riccardo? But if I agree to take on Calamity Kate and her new owner, I'd be surprised if Rabbit Island's committee will ever agree to Jessica being released. If she was, those two girls are certain to attempt to make contact in the future, and who knows what chaos they could unleash on the wider world."

Both men laughed so much that Markham had to wipe away a tear. Alex composed himself quicker. He was in the mood for business.

"I'd like to take that chance. Riccardo can work on your estate. He's a good trainer and handler. Kate will have her baby, and the rest is up to you."

"You're asking a lot of me, Alex... but I'll do it. I'll provide the home, but I'm not interested in buying pregnant slaves. What happens after the birth is not my concern. I don't intend on opening a crèche. Can Riccardo match Cavallo's offer?"

Alex picked up the phone to the reception desk. "Erik, can you bring Janie into my office please?"

A minute later the office door opened. Janie entered, wearing a dress designed by Carol to distract from her obvious disability. The front of the dress scooped down from her shoulders leaving her breasts bare. She wore a narrow black leather collar around her slim neck like a choker. Dropping from the front was a chain, its shape reminiscent of an anchor in the way it descended between her breasts, and then split in two, curving up to each of her newly ringed nipples. The distraction certainly worked on Markham. Noticing there were no other chairs in the office he invited Janie to sit upon his lap. His arms were instantly wrapped around her neat waist.

Janie's memory, and her true character, seemed to improve with every day. She was gregarious, confident and witty too, and had no need or desire to trade on people's sympathies. Her sexual nature, a playful submissive and pain slut, had also resurfaced. Seeing her sit on Markham's lap, both of them smiling and flirting, Alex was satisfied that he had done the right thing in bringing her to Rabbit Island, knowing that he might just as easily have administered that fatal potion to her at their first meeting in Bangkok.

"Janie. Who was it that cut off your arms?" Alex asked.

"The sick bitch from hell. Cavallo. And just because she's joined the amputee's club, doesn't mean she's no longer a sick bitch from hell!"

"I'm going to call her on the telephone now. Would you like to speak to her?" Alex asked.

"Sure." She sounded surprisingly casual about it. (Alex already knew what her answer would be.)

He dialled the number. It was answered, and after a brief transfer Alex was speaking to the lady herself. He despised her, but that didn't hinder his ability to engage in small-talk, having known her for many years. Then he got to the point:

"I have somebody in my office who'd like to speak to you. Somebody with whom you have something special in common. Somebody who has a remarkably good memory, in spite of your best efforts. She's very talkative, and would dearly like to have a chat about old times."

Cavallo was silent, utterly speechless. Alex imagined one of Cavallo's twin helpers holding the phone while the other fanned her. Cavallo correctly sensed that Alex had an agenda. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"What's done is done. We all need to look to the future, not revisit the past. Don't you agree?"

"I suppose so."

"Then why do you want to buy a slave that has such terrible memories for you? Withdraw your bid and I'll make no more of your conspiracy to incriminate Rabbit Island."

More silence from Cavallo's end, until she said: "I have an order for a baby to fulfil. $100,000"

If we pay you $100,000 compensation will you withdraw your bid?"

Cavallo agreed, and then abruptly hung up, depriving Janie of the chance to speak to her.

GETTING TO THE CLIFF-TOP ON TIME

Kate was fully engaged with the feeder when her cell door opened. She panicked as if caught in flagrante delicto, although actually she was doing nothing wrong.

"Don't let me keep you from your lunch," Riccardo joked. He waited as she carefully pulled her mouth off the penis-like tube. "How's the food?"

Kate shook her head. "I wouldn't know. I don't have taste buds in my throat." She knelt down on the floor in front of him, and proudly stuck out her chest, as instructed in Lucy's video.

"Listen Kate. I have to inform you that your sale has gone through. You'll be leaving Rabbit Island in a few months."

"Oh shit." She mumbled at the floor.

"Your new owner doesn't appreciate that kind of language!"

Kate lost her temper. "Riccardo, what the fuck do you care? I thought you did, but obviously you don't. I'm going to leave my friends here and might never see them again, and you tell me I can't say the word shit?"

"I warned you, I don't appreciate such language."

"Beat me then! Punish me! I'm no longer a person. I don't care any more. I'm sitting here in chains, sold off like a pregnant sow. Just a piece of merchandise."

As Kate descended into tears, Riccardo stood motionless and quiet, waiting for her outburst to subside.

She looked up at him and scowled. "What's so funny? Why are you smiling?"

"You're mine. And so is the baby."

Her face seemed to distort with confusion. "What are you talking about? You said they'd sold me!"

"Kate, listen to me, you pregnant sow! They sold you, and I bought you. I'm your new owner, and there's something else too. Tests have confirmed that I'm going to be a father. You're carrying my child."

Riccardo had never in his life seen, or expected to see, a smile to compare with Kate's at that moment. He helped her to stand, and they kissed with a reckless abandon that could only lead to one thing. He pushed her back onto the bed. Kate, with her hands pinned behind her, arranged herself on the bed as best she could, as Riccardo hurriedly removed his shorts. She looked up at him, panting with desire, desperate to feel his cock thrusting deep within her, as if for the first time.

She wasn't to be disappointed; and even if it was the fastest fuck she'd had since her teenage years, it was also the most passionate.

Afterwards, they lay squeezed together on the single bed, bodies entwined. Feeling reborn. Riccardo's hand couldn't help but caress Kate's belly, with the tender touch of his fingers. A belly of great significance. There was so much to explain; at a time which he could hardly make sense of it himself.

Riccardo caught sight of his watch, suddenly shocked at how much time had passed.

"We have to go. We've been invited to a wedding!"

Kate didn't comprehend the last remark, so she ignored it. Riccardo jumped up, retrieving his clothing which was scattered around the cell floor, pulling on his shorts and underwear and slipping on his shoes.

Then he grabbed Kate's nurse's clothes from his canvas bag. He didn't have the key to her handcuffs so had to dress her himself, employing the same brisk manner with Kate as he used when harnessing his ponygirls. First he clipped the garter belt around her waist, then rolling the white stocking up her legs, while Kate sat on the edge of the bed in a state of shock. Riccardo planted a delicate kiss on her small stocking-covered feet before strapping on her wedge heels. She stood up so he could dress her in her apron and tie the ribbons behind her neck and at her waist.

They dashed from the cell-block as if making a jailbreak. His getaway transport, pulled by ponygirls Melinda and Diana, was standing outside ready to haul them in quick time to the cliff-top viewpoint a mile along the track.

Kate could scarcely believe the scene that awaiting them: A wedding ceremony, complete with a bride in a white lace dress, and a groom in a suit and tie. It was Mia the former slave, and José the gardener.

Also present were Master Alex accompanied by Carol, Ranulph Markham with companion slave Linsey looking very glad to be back at his side; Charlie the slave trader, with Janie at his side; Vince accompanied by pussygirls Lucy and Anna, and Doctor Schmidt too.

Not attending the wedding as guests, but still playing their part, were Jessica, Debbie, Sandra and Cathy. The ponygirl foursome stood ready to convey the newlyweds' back to the staff quarters. The four-seater carriage and its ponygirls had been specially decked out in white ribbons and flowers.

Another one present but not on the guest list was Rachel, as she continued her pussygirl trials. Immediately after her release from the ponygirl's punishment frame, she had been taken to the preparation room to commence her three-day stint as a puppy. She seemed nervous and self-conscious, kneeling on tight leash at Carol's right hand side. It didn't help having Lucy and Anna debating whether it was good luck to have a dog at a wedding.

Kate now understood why Dr Schmidt was so preoccupied by his paperwork that morning - he was preparing to officiate over this wedding ceremony.

Doctor Schmidt wasn't the only one with a ceremonial role. Charlie was to give the bride away. Dozens of slaves had passed through his slave trading operation, but he'd never seen one as transformed as Mia. It was difficult to believe this woman was the sad drug-addicted whore he'd been obliged to take in a part-exchange deal many months ago. For week after week she sat forlornly in her small cage next to Janie's. And while he cleansed and cured her body, Janie attended to Mia's broken spirit. Now she stood, a bride dressed in dazzling sun-reflecting white, having a day she dared not dream of during her twenty years of hell in a Bangkok whore house.

For a fleeting moment, Charlie considered quitting the slave trade for a new business in the booming Asian brides market.

The doctor commenced the ceremony, his serious monotone according a formality and gravitas to the proceedings.

Mia, partly concealed by a full veil, had her hands tied behind with a short length of white rope, almost invisible against the white of the dress. The doctor made some initial statements requiring short responses from José, Mia and Charlie. Then Charlie untied the rope on her wrists, folded it neatly and presented it to her. She gazed at the rope, a simple yet potent symbol of her existence, literally in the palm of her hand. Just to have held it in her hand for a moment was sufficient. She handed it to José.

Further vows were uttered by bride and groom until there remained one final act to perform. José bound her wrists in front of her using the same white cord, and presented her a small bouquet of orchids. The doctor pronounced them man and wife, eliciting spontaneous applause from those whose hands were able to clap. With perfect timing, Vince launched a daylight firework display that rained down confetti on them all.

Markham and Alex talked over glasses of champagne and wedding cake, with Carol and Linsey - companion slaves, past and present - standing attentively at their side. Markham took in the scene of pussygirls, ponygirls, a nervous puppy, masters, a slave trader, a doctor and nurse, a gardener and his bride and declared: "Sheer folly, this wedding of yours, but jolly nice too!"

Alex agreed. It was a rare and special moment - not just the wedding but being surrounded by the people he cared most about. Yet he had an unsettling feeling too. This assorted group was just a fraction of Rabbit Island's population. Most of them had chosen not to attend his 'folly', thus demonstrating how peripheral and isolated he had become in the new Rabbit Island hierarchy.

The bride and groom were ready to depart for the domestic staff quarters, where a celebratory Filipino barbecue and party awaited them. Frank helped them up onto the rear seat of his carriage. With a wave and a thank you from José they were off. Riccardo wiped tears from Kate's eyes as they watched the ponygirl foursome trot off at a brisk pace. Four sets of jingling boot bells adding a delightful soundtrack to their progress, until the sound faded into the distance just as they did.

There was no rush or desire amongst the remaining wedding party to head back to the Lodge. They had plenty to eat and drink, and this grassy viewpoint was equipped with wooden stocks, pillars and frames, providing many avenues of amusement to be explored. Markham pointed out to Alex - quite correctly - that slaves become soft if not tested and disciplined, particularly after a light day like this. Besides, he added, he'd taken a Viagra pill before the wedding, and was ready for action.

They chained pussygirls Lucy and Anna to opposite sides of a vertical whipping post, hands held high, the backs of their dresses unlaced and pulled down around their feet in readiness for a whipping.

Linsey was undressed and tied within a spread-eagle frame so that everyone could appreciate her exotic all-over body tattoo. The rough grass rubbed harshly against her reddened rump, a painful reminder of her morning in ponygirl training.

Janie ended up kneeling with her ankles in wooden stocks, her collar chained tightly to a securing point between her ankles, presenting the masters with any number of options.

Riccardo magnanimously offered Kate's mouth to all those present. Still locked in her bunny chains, she was forced to kneel across Linsey's face, so she might receive pleasure as she gave it.

Ranulph Markham was Kate's first client, unperturbed that he was standing astride his companion slave being fellated by another woman. He soon put an end to Kate's tentative sucking, gripping her short hair in his hand and pulling her head harshly back and forward without let up until his semen exploded into her mouth. It was just the way Kate liked it, but she could hardly tell him that. Charlie was next, and then Vince, delighted and flattered that Kate happened to have an orgasm as the same time as his own eruption.

Kate didn't find the task a hardship, sucking one man after the other, she preferred it that way. One man was never enough. The hardest part was concentrating while coping with Linsey's amazingly dexterous tongue on her clit.

Her fourth customer was Doctor Schmidt. She savoured this rare moment of intimacy between them, taking her time, treating his erect cock not just as something to be mechanically worked to ejaculation, but as an extension of him as a person, her boss, her guide. When his finger touched the front of her neck, Kate knew what she was required to do. Changing the shape of her spine and bending her neck backwards she took him into her throat. His fingers lightly played against her neck, both of them savouring the knowledge that the bulge in her throat was his.

Carol handed Charlie puppy Rachel's leash. The Chinaman had never had a dog before, except for one time in a restaurant. He was at a loss as to what to do with her.

Carol looked at Charlie with sympathy. "Just take her for a walk, throw her bone gag for her to fetch, let her sniff and pee in the bushes. And don't forget to stroke her and tell her what a good puppy she is! Tell you what, I'll come with you while the pussygirls are getting their thrashing!"

Rachel crawled on the grass beside Carol as they walked along the cliff edge. She was in the usual puppy garb: a purely decorative black leather body harness and butt plug-tail, her hands balled into fists and covered in leather; and her feet in the same leather covering. The thick spike-studded collar combined with her blackened nose and heavy eye makeup to give Rachel that brutal-but-cute look required of a puppy girl. In her mouth she had a bone gag, a large rubber bone replica jammed between her teeth like a bit, and strapped around her head to keep it in place.

Carol removed the bone gag and tossed it a short distance in front of her. Rachel scampered off after it, gingerly picking it up between her teeth and returning to her. She sat directly in front of Carol and rubbed the bone against Carol's crotch. "What a good girl!" Carol said, taking the bone from her and giving Rachel a chocolate drop in return. They walked past ponygirls Diana and Melinda, still fully harnessed and attached to their trap, not even giving them a second glance.

Even Charlie had become blasé about ponygirls over the last couple of days, but puppy girls were new to him. He tossed the bone-gag, and Rachel chased after it, soon losing her canine inhibitions now that she was alone with Carol and Charlie. He recoiled in shock when Rachel returned and thrust the bone firmly and deliberately into his crotch. Carol and Charlie continued to toss the bone-gag for Rachel while they compared notes on their similarly bizarre lives. She promised to give him make up lessons the following day after he commented on what a good job she'd made of Mia the bride. He realised that if he could make a slave girl look her best it would increase her sale price.

BUNNY BAGS

By the time Carol and Charlie returned to the party, the Rabbit Islander's favourite pastime, a game of bunny bags, was under way. Kate, Lucy and Anna had been staked out, spread-eagled alongside Linsey, to create the appropriate XXXX shape for the game. All of them were blindfolded, firstly to protect their eyes from the sun, but also to heighten their suspense and shock when the bags land on them. And not wanting to leave out Janie, her ample breasts provided a handy repository for the wooden clothes pegs needed for this variant of bunny bags: red pegs on her right breasts and green on her left.

Determined to exact revenge for the Ryder Cup defeat, Alex and Vince were taking on the Anglo/European axis of Ranulph Markham and Riccardo. Doctor Schmidt acted as referee.

The first part of a bunny bags game is harmless. The players attempt to toss the small bean-filled bags onto the bellies of each bunny from a distance of five metres. The shock when one of those lands on her breasts or belly never fails to produce a squeal, and the blindfold ensures, quite literally, that the bunny never sees it coming. If a bag lands on her, the bunny has the prerogative to try to buck it off, however such action usually results in the amusement of the players and the subsequent tightening of her ropes.

Depending on how the sixteen bags in each round have landed, scores are marked up by attaching clothes pegs to their nipples. With $2000 at stake, the men had more to worry about than the bunnies' protests about their nipples. As long as they were large enough for the pegs to clamp onto, the men were happy.

The object of the second part of each game was to dislodge your opponent's pegs by aiming a bean bag straight at them. It required a strong and accurate throw. Most shots missed the peg but hit the breasts or ribs sideways on, often causing bruising. (After a bunny sustained a cracked rib last year, the weight of the bags was reduced this season.)

A good hit makes an audible 'clip' as the peg comes off the nipple, sometimes tumbling several feet into the air. The peg's clip sound is immediately followed by a sudden cry of pain from the affected bunny, and a whoop of delight from the thrower.

Although they weren't gagged, it didn't serve a bunny to protest; she'd merely single herself out for more attention.

Carol was never much into sport, unable to appreciate the finer points of bunny bags, despite having been one of the spread-eagled participants on several occasions. She'd never actually tossed a bunny bag, and nor did she know if any woman had. Nonetheless she conjured with a delicious image of those four men tied down in place of the bunnies and having bean bags thrown at their genitals. They'd squeal every bit as much as those bunnies.

She was an animal lover, in her element with something at the end of her leash, something that needed care and attention and responded to petting... like Rachel. The new puppy girl was beginning to get into character, and bonding with her new protector.

"I think she's ready for her first reward," Carol said to Charlie, who wasn't much of a sports or animal lover. Having had too many chocolate drops already, Rachel sensed what that reward might be. Carol put her in 'show' position - a eject doggy posture with tail and head held high. She knelt down to one side of the puppy and reached a hand behind and between her legs, her other hand keeping Rachel on a very short leash.

Puppy Rachel felt Carol's thumb pushing aside the leather harness strap to slip into her sex, leaving the fingers free to work on her clit. "Keep your chin up!" Carol said, loud enough that everyone turned to look. A firm tug on her collar further reminded Rachel who was in control. She bit down on her bone gag as Carol's busy fingers took her to the point of no turning back. There was simply no point in resisting, she grunted, she growled, she rocked her hips, a doggy as she could be, all to win Carol's compliment of "what a good bitch you are!"

And then Carol stopped, wiping her wet thumb of Rachel's buttocks. "Stay!" she commanded, leaving Rachel to maintain formal doggy position, still facing towards the men, and on the brink of orgasm. Carol kissed Rachel's ear and whispered: "Perhaps in your kennel later, when you show me what your tongue can do, I'll finish off what I started."

"Your ponygirls, Riccardo, they move a lot," Charlie commented as the bunny bags game was changing ends.

Riccardo looked up and saw that Charlie had a point - Diana and Melinda seemed agitated. When he walked over and stood in front of them, their heads were facing downwards, not wishing to make eye contact in the way ponygirls usually did. He ran a finger in the groove between Diana's ringed labia. The reins were still threaded through the rings even though he knew it could cause irritation or possibly stimulation. He held his wetted finger up to Diana and wiped it harshly across her cheek.

Markham approached the ponygirls, while Alex and Vince stayed with the bunny bags, discussing tactics. "Are they okay?" he asked his team-mate.

Riccardo shook his head and sighed. "These two used to be Bruce's ponygirls. He warned me about this. They're fully harnessed, blinkered and turned to face down the trail and still they get turned on. They're both as wet as leaky faucets. Now I understand why he recommends using the spreader bar when they are parked up."

He retrieved the spreader bar from its storage point under the driver's seat. It was a five-foot long black iron bar with four leather, buckling cuffs attached. Markham bent down to help strap it around the backs of Diana's and Melinda's pony-booted ankles. Riccardo pulled out a small lump of chalk adding three more vertical strokes to Diana's thigh.

While the party continued, Diana and Melinda stood embarrassed, immobilised and sexually subdued by their combined spreader bar. Carol and Charlie stayed on a bench looking out to sea, drinking white wine and beer respectively, with an attention-seeking puppy girl at their feet.

The bunny bags game was eventually decided. The score, for readers who need to know this kind of thing, was a 27-22 win to the Americans, and two sore breasts and nipples for each of the female participants.

As the shadows of the sun grew longer, the group of six men, six women, two ponygirls and a puppy reluctantly left their idyllic scenery to stroll the mile or so back to the Lodge. Riccardo took Charlie in the passenger seat of the pony-trap, taking the long route back to give Diana and Melinda a much needed run.

Rachel the puppy girl crawled obediently at Lucy's side, thankful that the doctor had bandaged her knees. Linsey clung devotedly upon Markham's arm and Carol had a similar grip on Alex, as assertive as a submissive could dare.

It was nice to have a woman on his arm, Alex thought. It felt good to have arranged a marriage too; and of course he was happy Riccardo had acquired a suitable slave - one who was carrying his child. Kate, walking alongside and talking to Dr Schmidt, seemed to be the happiest person on the entire island. The irony, that the happiest person on the island was a slavegirl, wasn't lost on him.

"You seem deep in thought, Alex," commented Carol.

"I am, but that's not so unusual, is it?"

She squeezed his arm, seeing through his non-committal reply. "If you ever want to talk about it, you know I'm here for you. Anytime."

They must have walked five paces before Alex replied. "Thanks Carol, I could well take up your offer."

The events of the day, the people around him now, and Ranulph Markham's earlier probing and prompting, had given Alex much to think about. He had to make a decision, and there was no easy option.

End of chapter 27

Coming soon… The falcon position, Jessica's madness, jealousy and punishment.

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