I awoke with a start as my soft butt followed the bedclothes onto the floor that morning and my shackles thudded on the floor.
"THERE was movement at the station, for the word had passed around, that the colt from old Regret had got away," Roger intoned as he tumbled me out of the warm bedding, "but don’t worry sweetheart you ain’t going to get away."
"Brekky, sweetheart. Patio in five minutes, K? I know it’s your day off; but I thought since you haven’t seen the farm yet so you might like give me a hand up there."
‘Damn him,’ I whined under my breath. I’d planned to go past work and casually flash Angie with my new jewellery. She’d have been green ‘cos Lewis just used her. She’d told me he had never bought anything especially for her and here I was with especially made gear.
Ten minutes later after the obligatory heart-healthy breakfast of wheat-bix, fruit and fresh orange juice Asta and I were eagerly waiting in the ute for Roger to get off the line to Lewis.
Asta started to howl excitedly as soon as she saw the ressy and went totally ballistic when Roger turned into a narrow dirt road.
"Shudup stupid," he ordered. "The corkscrew," he explained. "She knows it’s not far now." The road dropped and curled upon itself alarmingly for about a kilometre then he turned into an even worse track that wound through a narrow cleft beside a dry creek bed and stopped before a rusted gate.
"Bloody exclusive this place; there’s only a back gate now. The hills face, the main road out the front and the whole bloody village of Chain of Ponds were resumed when the ressy was built. Apart from the long paddock this end the rest all abuts catchment reserve. You get to open the gate."
Asta didn’t bother to wait for me to work out the old fashioned post and chain latch; she jumped onto the ute’s bonnet and soared over the gate.
Back in the ute and curious I asked, "Doesn’t that fence get washed away when the creek flows?"
"I’m lazy sweetheart, not bloody stupid. There’s a trip wire on the high side that lets it drop flat so all you gotta do is clean the shit off and stand the bastard back up again. Gotta be a bit quick but, else the ferals get back in."
Yeah, right... like I’m going to believe that one.
Eventually he stopped in front of a large galvanized shed.
"Trust me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Jees you’re a dopey bitch, either that or you’re had too much sun. Ya could do with someone remind ya to keep your throat wet," and then he ushered me into a large farm workshop. "Keep yer Bloodies on sweetheart but shuck the rest. K?"
I thought, admittedly not for either the first or the last time ‘He’s right you know’ as I stripped.
He buckled a wide black belt snugly around my waist and made sure it rested comfortably above my hips.
"Like yer basic outfit luv? Knocked it up last Mund’y."
"What are these for?" I asked as I played with the substantial rings that protruded from the sides of the belt.
"To make things easier for you," he said as he eased my arms into a soft leather sleeve, "Don’t want yer to get blisters do I," and secured it with straps that crossed behind my neck and buckled to the leather sleeve. "Bugger it, sags a bit, I’ll have to put eyelets in Mark II so we can adjust the fit. Comfortable?"
It wasn’t blisters in my hands as I backed up to fondle him.
"Later on sweetheart," he ordered as he walked me over to a two-wheeled cart. "We built this originally to get the Rotties fit. Went like a bomb once the buggers got used to it. The ankle-biters all loved it too. Kids who were stuck in wheelchairs used to go berserk when we took ‘em down to Regency. Made a packet for charity and had a lot of fun at neighbourhood shows too. I thought that it’d be more fun buggarising around with it up here than you girls just pounding that bloody treadmill,"
Those Rotty’s must have been big dogs ‘cos my butt slotted easily between the shafts once they were buckled to my belt rings.
"Walk around for a bit so you can get used to walking with the cart, then we’ll start to load up the cart so you get used to handling the weight."
Round and round inside the shed I went. At first I kept forgetting that the cart was behind me because it was so well balanced then I learned to side step around sharp corners. After that it was easy even though the load eventually increased to one hundred kilos.
"You still okay with this Annie? Comfortable?"
"Yep."
"Do you want a break?"
"No, I’m OK."
"Hey, I can’t see properly without my glasses."
"Won’t matter ‘cos you won’t see anything with this blindfold on. Open wide." The soft bit was gently pushed into my open mouth and buckled firmly into place. A couple of clicks then "C’mon sweetie" and the bit insistently tugged me forward.
I followed and the cart just tagged along behind.
‘Tag-a-long would be a good name for the damn thing,‘ I thought.
"Right sweetheart. Just go with the leads OK. If there’s pressure on the left then sidle left, if there’s pressure on both then stop. Once you’ve got that down pat we’ll see what husbanding the block needs."
Roger must have been walking along behind ‘Tag-a-long’ because I could sometimes feel the light reins on my shoulders and the changes in pressure on my bit always came from directly behind me.
"Annie, I want to you to remember your first look at Bedrock," he said as he lifted my blinders and reached to slip my glasses back on. Must remember to ask Jim about laser correction, remembering these glasses is as much fun as a carbuncle on a ringer’s arse." The cliff’s proximity startled me and I back-stepped until his grip on my reins reassured me and reminded me that I trusted him implicitly.
It was some vista, westerly from the ridge top, looking down into the widening valley at the old homestead, the rock strewn creek and the uniquely brownish green of the Australian eucalypts.
"It’s all down hill from here luv so you can give me a lift. K?"
"OK," I mumbled around my bit.
"Ponygirls don’t talk sweetheart," as he returned me to my sightless state.
Nod, nod.
"Kneel down so I can get in sugar."
I kneeled albeit reluctantly and thought I’ll never get back up with you in the cart.
I was wrong.
I was wrong about going downhill too. The cart must have had some sort of brake fitted because mostly it meekly followed me until we reached level ground and I had to pull it.
"Ok, take a rest Canuck," he said as he led me into the shade of a river gum and tossed my reins over a low branch.
‘Yeah right,’ I thought. ‘I’m still hitched to the bloody cart mate,’ I fumed. Then I noticed he was busy by the water’s edge.
He’d pulled up a trap, whistled and then set about getting a small fast fire going in an old firepit. He’d dug up a billy from somewhere too and, after filling it from the creek, had parked it on the downwind side of the fire.
"Brew up in a tic then I’ll cook the marron on the embers," he said as he unbuckled my halter and slid the bit out of my mouth.
He fished around in the cart for a bit and then unhitched me. Freed of the cart I walked over to watch him take the boiling billy out of the fire and brew up.
"Like lobster?" he asked stamping the fire out.
"Marron’s sweeter," he said as he carefully removed each crustacean from the trap and laid it gently on the hot ash.
We couldn’t have been there ten minutes before he peeled and then fed me my first Marron. He held his pint pot of tea to my lips and noticed my tears.
"Too hot sweetheart?"
"No," I sobbed as I nestled against him and rested my head on his wide shoulder, "this place is way, way too much," and he gently lowered me to the warm sand.
His calloused hand firmly caressed my swollen breasts while tongues duelled in imitation of the action that would eventually slake his seemingly insatiable need. Mons cupped by his hand and with my lips parted by his calloused fingers I sobbed my need. Nudged softly his knee mine parted and his member cleaved into my molten core as I shuddered in fulfilment. He smiled down as he rested on his elbows, "Good girl, gotta show your appreciation but never fake it K," as he relaxed his stance to thrust me back to heaven.
Much later, blindered, haltered and hitched between the shafts, he walked me into the creek and carefully rinsed my sex before sluicing water all over me to get the sand off. He even fingered out the tangles in my long hair before getting back in the cart and driving away from a place and time that I will never forget.
"Wow, Fantastic, how the hell did you get Annie to do that?" shouted Angie.
"I thought something was suss when Lewis sent me up here with a delivery, cos it’s way out of our normal area but I never expected anything like this. Can I have a ride?"
"You better ask Annie."
"Can I Annie? Please?"
I could have cried as I turned my sightless face towards Roger’s voice; she wouldn’t notice my anklets now I thought.
"Well, Can she Annie?"
Nod. Nod.
"What’s wrong Roger? Why didn’t Annie say something?"
"Ponies don’t talk Angie. Climb in and be gentle with her reins OK? cos I’ll be watching."
"Let’s go Annie."
"Gently Angie, gently." He said as he walked along beside us.
"Good girl Annie," he said as I followed the pressure on my reins.
"What do you reckon Angie? Reckon it’d be more fun than the treadmill?"
‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I’ll scratch the fat bitch’s eyes out then I’ll have it out with him. Bastard, I’ll show him. Gives me jewellery and then pervs on her flabby arse up here while I’m stuck at home or at work. Not blooming likely.’
"Would I have to wear that blindfold?"
"It’s so you won’t be distracted. It reinforces your reliance on someone other than yourself and it demonstrates your trust in me."
We’d stopped by then and I’d kneeled down so Angie could alight. My reins were brought forward and as I was being led into the cool shade he said, "Well, Angie, it’s put up or shut up time," as my reins were tied to something, a branch I think.
"OK, but I’ve only got these sling-backs so I’ll have to go barefoot," I heard as Roger started to unhitch me from the cart.
"Yeah, noticed that. There’s more tack on the bench in the shed. Why don’t you and get ready while I fix things up here?"
‘I’ll fix her little red wagon when she’s in the shafts and I’m out of this shit,’ I promised myself as he wheeled the cart away.
"Naw, Angie, the belt’s not tight enough."
"Sorry Roger. I couldn’t reach the buckles at the back so I had to put it on backwards."
"Turn around, hands behind you."
"Uh... That’s tight... Uh... Shit Roger that’s tight."
"Open wide."
"errrrrootuuubd."
"Ponies don’t talk Angie. Stand bloody still will ya?"
Yelp.
Then he nudged me sideways until our shoulders bumped.
"Just wait there you two. K?"
We waited. Some scraping in the shed and then we heard him wheeling the cart back. Then I felt the shafts bump against my hips and felt their weight as first one side then the other were clipped to my waist belt. Then I felt tugs on my waist belt as he hitched Angie alongside me.
My halter pulled a bit when he untied my reins and fed them over my shoulders. "Steady girls, if you get your legs tangled up you’ll fall and hurt yourselves."
Then I felt my bit being pushed backwards.
"That’s right girls. Back up."
"Kneel!" And we did.
"Up. Let’s go." And we walked off together.
He let us just stroll along pulling the cart that day, but we must have pulled it for miles. Up hill and down dale we went. Sometimes we’d stop and he’d squirt cool drinks into our mouths. All the time though he told us how good we were doing and how good we looked. It was fine until he tried to a really tight turn and we got our legs tangled and panicked. "Just stop. K?" he said firmly. "OK, now sidle like you’ve learned Annie and you follow her Angie." Angie trod on my foot a couple of times, and I trod on hers too; but we got that dammed cart turned around without Roger getting out and without him yelling at us. I think we were all just happy to get turned around. Well, obviously Roger wasn’t because he had us sidling left in circles, sidling right in circles and walking backwards in circles too. God might have known where we were, but I certainly didn’t when we finally felt bitumen under foot and approached the sound of an idling diesel.
‘Hell,’ I panicked and felt myself redden all over. I thought I’d die of embarrassment. The only thing that I was thankful for was that no one could recognise me with the bit, halter and blinders on.
He stopped us right next to the diesel
"G’day mate, thought you’d never turn up."
"Got tied up at the shop," Lewis said. "Want a hand putting the rig away?"
"No mate, just unclip her reins, unhitch her and then you can piss off. Annie and I’ll tidy up."