The flu season had struck the pharmacy with a vengeance. Absenteeism is a hard taskmaster when you’re at the sharp end so I worked extra shifts on my days off and longer ones on my usual days. Roger wasn’t choofed to put it bluntly. Hell, at this stage in my life I became aware that money doesn’t even come close to what this girl really wants.  I worried about him when he wasn’t in sight and about being so damn tired when he was. I knew that he had spent a lot of time up at the block ‘just pottering’ he’d said whenever I’d asked and each time he took me with him I’d be surprised by the changes he’d wrought.

We’d come up in the ute.

“Early,” he’d said.

Early it was as we drove into the awe-inspiring dawn dappled vale. Bloody cold it was as I climbed around the place marking levels wherever I was told.

“Grab a bucket of pellets and go let the geese out of the coop K?”

“Geese?”

“Yep, they don’t bother the natives, don’t like ferals and they’ll be better than an alarm system once the gaggle assimilate and get a bit territorial. I want you to get used to having them under your feet. K?”

After a while I heard the high-pitched engine and in the distance saw Roger using a bobcat around where he’d had me marking levels. The block (that’s Roger’s terminology because the place is nothing like any ‘block’ that I’ve ever known) is amazing. Just ambling along with the geese gave me sights of wallabies, possums and a koala. And I heard so many different frogs. I thought I’d better show willingness around smoko so I headed back to where Roger was working.

“Yeah, Gunna pull the plug once Lewis gets here honey. We’ll pull on the nosebag first then try out the new plant. Marron and Queen Adelaide for the girls, steaks fried on a shovel and washed down with homies for the boys. Followed by a snuggle in the shade.”

“Boots and Blacks girls,” Roger ordered as he gave me a gentle shake. “Get a wiggle on,” laughed Lewis as they followed us towards Roger’s workshop where our Blacks had been left in the ute.

Angie and I both giggled when we both started to talk at once. “No, you go first.”

“It’s not important, what were you going to say?”

“We’re starting to get good at this.”

“At this?”

“Well, faster anyway at getting tacked up.”

“That’s what I was going to say”

“Open wide.”

“Oooniii…”

“OK, Annie you’re on the nearside, always K?” Roger finally said as he walked me through to the Implement shed. The new plant was a four wheel, bench seated surrey. He walked me to the nearside of the shaft and buckled my waist belt to it, Next came trace chains that clipped to the loops on each side of my waist belt and then he slipped my reins over the surrey’s front. Although Lewis was still hitching Angie, Roger just stood fondling my right boob and rolling my pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“All ready Annie?’’ he smiled.

I thought that the surrey was easier to pull than the jinker; probably because we only pulled it and didn’t have to balance its weight on the single axle.

The boys took turns driving on the flat until we warmed up.

“Ok Lewis, take ‘em up the new tracks I’ve roughed out with the bobcat.”

It seemed like miles and miles of twisting, turning, although moderate slopes before we were stopped. The cold energy drink was ambrosia. It was so good that I almost didn’t notice Roger’s possessive caress while he squirted it past my bit.

“You’re my good girl. Aren’t you Annie?”

“I’ll take ‘em down, mate. I’m not real happy with the brake design and those wog shoes of yours ‘ll come off worst if someone’s gotta stick an RM into the spokes.”

He’d walked us back down the track and back to the workshop. Then he’d tied our reins to a post or something and wandered off talking to Lewis.

Angie started to blubber after a bit and I hummed quietly until she calmed. Then we just stood and waited patiently. Roger is a good teacher.

The boys were coming back. I could hear them talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying.  From snatches of the conversation I thought they were talking about us learning belly-dancing and then Lewis said something about the skid.

Then Roger said, “No, I’ll leave trying the skid until after I’ve improved the reins.”

Who skidded?

What skid?

What’s a skid anyway?

How can he improve the reins? They are only long thin strips that clip onto our bits.

The shaft moved, nudging me sideways, and, startled, I trod on Angie’s foot.

“I reckon they need to learn teamwork before they hurt themselves.”

“How so?” from Lewis.

“We’ll just have them spend some time together whenever you’re interstate.”

The shafts jostled, their weight was lifted from my belt. I tilted my head back to try to see what was going on. Stupid that, it didn’t help at all.

“That sort of thing detracts from their appearance too, but I think I can stop that with better traces.”

“Can we square up after you’ve got all the gear and the rings?”

“Sure mate. You go and I’ll tidy up here. See you in a couple of weeks.”

What gear?

What rings?

A car door slammed, then another slammed, a diesel started up and Lewis’ Discovery drove off. I could hear the surrey’s wheels crunching the gravel as Roger put it away. The bastard! I’m on my lonesome again and I’m horny as hell.

Where is that bastard?

“Hi lover, had fun so far?”

Bounce.

“I had an idea about that too. Come on.” He said as he flipped my reins forward to be followed.

I followed him around several corners and when he stopped I could smell chlorine.

“Bend.”

Uh Oh! My legs were nudged apart. Roger’s hands caressed my flanks and breasts and slid his fingers along the entrance to my slick, hot core. I was ready for him. Didn’t he guess that I’d been hot to trot all day, even when I was trotting alongside Angie with him behind us on the surrey? Hell I’d wanted him to do that all day. He grasped my waist belt and nudged against my molten core. My eyes were nearly plastered on the inside of my blinder when he surged strongly and deeply into me. I was filled with him. He pumped slowly while rubbing and squeezing my clit. My legs morphed into soft jelly as he clamped me to him and on him and I shattered into pieces in my climax.

Still bound and bitted, he scooped me into his arms lowered my boot clad feet into warm water. He removed my bit gag and halter. I relieved my now aching jaw. Standing in water up to my butt Roger slipped on my glasses for me.

“Really gunna have to talk to Jim about laser augmentation,” he said.

I looked around to find us hot tubbing in a sunny, colourful bower between the old homestead and the steep rock valley wall. He fondled a breast as he lowered us beneath the warm bubbling water and kissed me deeply as his fingers found and tormented my rock hard nipples.

The slow boil from the day and the mind-blowing kiss while it happened tipped me into the day’s first climax. And I realized I still had my good boots on and my arms were still bound but, where there’s a will there’s a way And he was eager too.

Much later I wondered what Lewis had done with Angie. Well, I thought I knew what eventually happened; I just didn’t know how they had got there, or even where they got to.

Lazing in bed later that night, sated and replete, Roger absently watched my nipple flower as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger and said, “Lewis and I were talking about gear today amongst other things and decided that would ensure that you both enjoy yourselves. I think it’d be a good idea and it just might be fun for all of us you both got serious about belly-dancing.  I’m pretty sure that you both had a good time today and, according to Lewis, it’s helped Angie a lot physically and emotionally. Anyway I reckon it’s the right time to move things along a bit K? I want you both to have nipple and labia rings, K? I’ve told Lewis and he’s happy for Annie to be done so if you are ok with it I thought you might like to go together to the clinic to get them done.”

Small bounce.

“You can ring her and set it up for Monday. OK?”

Bounce and snuggle.

“Did I tell you that she’ll bring Portia over here on Thursday and that she’ll be staying here while Lewis is away?”

I wondered whether I should give him a butcher’s supper of hot tongue and cold shoulder but instead I said softly, “We always enjoy our time together.”

Getting the sleepers inserted in our nipples and labia wasn’t any worse than when we got our ears pierced as kids. What we did notice was the heightened awareness that came from the sleepers rubbing on our underthings as we moved. I mean ALL the time.

What we can’t work out is the labia rings, do the guys intend to lock the gate when they’re not around?

We’ve both hinted and even asked but all he bloody says is, “Later on you’ll appreciate them.” Appreciate them? Yeah right.

Roger took Angie and me out for dinner on Thursday. At Ah Dong’s again, the Thai banquet was fantastic as usual. My mind kept wandering back to the first time I had dined there and all that followed.

Ah Dong fawned over us girls during the meal and while our coffee was being served, he came to stand near our table and importantly clapped his hands.

In his pleasant sing-song voice he announced to everybody that we girls were celebrating the achievement of an important milestone in their lives and that he had been pleased to craft mementos to mark the occasion. He proudly insisted that the presents had been made especially for us and that we should wait one hour before opening them.

Bloody Roger, he’s playing with us again.

We were home within thirty minutes but we weren’t allowed to open our presents then. He led us out to the games room and reminded us about me treading on Angie’s foot while in the surrey and told us that we were going to learn how to be a team.

“OK,” said Angie and I just nodded.

“We’ve arranged some quality time for you to share, so why don’t you start by getting ready?”

Off came our clobber and out came the tack.

He handed us each our thick leather waist belts and four single lockable leather cuffs. The cuffs were new to us and another pair still swung in his hand.

OK, belts on and a cuff on each wrist and ankle.

Roger had us stand closely together and snap-locked our waist belts together at the side. He then fitted the spare cuffs around our upper arms and pulled them behind us as he locked my right wrist to Angie’s left wrist. Kneeling, he locked my right ankle to her left ankle. Astrally and individually Piscerian, we were now definitely Siamese. Twins that is, joined at the ankle, waist and shoulder.

His watch said nine pm in her intrusive manner and he said, “Time’s up. Once you’ve opened your presents I’ll explain what you’re going to achieve.”

Then we found out that he was a devious and frustrating bastard who intended that we would work as one. The bloody presents pealed as we fumbled awkwardly trying to unwrap them one-handed.

“Use both hands.”

“Huh?” from Angie and “How?” from me.

“You’ve got a left hand and a right hand, just oppose them.”

It took a while before we got the boxes unwrapped and opened. Four little sterling silver bells were in each box. Esthetically and musically pleasing each of my bells was engraved with my name. I loved mine on sight, on sound too I guess, because, while Angie’s sounded different from mine, our bells harmonized.

Angie held hers and tears seeped from her eyes.

And then I cried too.

I wanted to hug Roger to thank him but when I moved toward him one leg didn’t come with me. Angie was still blubbering.

“Right, you’ve learnt that you can work as one, now you’ve got to learn to work in unison without talking about what you need to do. What I expect you to practice until you’ve got it together. You’ve got until midnight to work out how you’re going to handle the next few days and to develop strategies to communicate but I’ll only hear you when you speak in unison and, from then on you can only speak in unison while you are together. Do you understand?”

Silence.

“Want to wear your presents?”

Silence then a tentative ‘Yes’ from Angie and a bounce from me.

Angie held her bells out and he clipped one to each nipple ring. Kneeling down in front of her, he pushed her legs apart and clipped one to each of her labia rings.

The green-eyed monster screamed into my very being. I desperately wanted to scratch her eyes out and pummel him with my fists. I didn’t even see him stand up and hold out his hand for mine. I just felt his lips laving my nipple and his fingers take a bell from my hand. My other nipple sprung to attention and throbbed, demanding similar attention. It got it. My belly clenched and heat flowed down. I felt myself moisten. I could smell my juices flowing. Roger clipped on one bell and his hand was slick when he took the last bell from my hand. Angie smiled benignly at me and I blushed all over.

I knew it was all over, we both saw me redden in the wall mirror.

Roger left us to it then and went into his den. We practiced three legged walking, worried about toileting and got frantic about having to talk in unison.

Thank God Angie and I had learnt to bounce and shake for yes and no. We hoped that Roger would help us by asking simple questions.

Just before midnight we went in to be ‘surgically separated’ for the night and were stunned when he just shook his head and said, “Goodnight Pony,” and headed into the shower.

At last I remembered, Roger sleeps on the left hand side of his king-size bed. He obviously planned for me to be near at hand.

“Come on Angie,” I encouraged and headed for the bedroom.

It’s a lot harder to get supine under the covers than it is to just sit down or three-legged walk and we ended up partially laying on our sides looking away from each other because of our arms locked underneath us. I figured it would get better when Roger came to bed because I would have his arms around me.

During the night his watch had competition. She told us the hour on the hour and Angie and I tinkled intermittently. I pealed when Roger rolled over and snuggled and things.

Our routine started in the morning, all restraints off for twenty minutes during which we showered, voided, and drank our breakfast of energy drink. If we wanted a potty break we could only go in unison out on the lawn.

At first, No Way.

But when you’ve gotta go you’ve gotta go. My life in Canada was nothing at all like this one was turning out to be.

He’d got in a variety of nutritious drinks and we could help ourselves once we’d mastered opening the containers, but dinner was special. It was an opportunity to practice manual dexterity and for Roger to catch us with individual responses.

We quickly learned to synchronize and then bounce and jingle or shake and jingle in unison. My resentment of Angie for intruding into our home abated and we came to be real soul mates after ‘living as a pony’.

Early that Saturday morning, Roger said that we were going spend a few days at Bedrock. We both changed into long skirts and flowy tops after we’d put our jewelry on. Roger loves it when he hears us moving around and it’ll knock Lewis’ socks off when he realizes that Roger can tell us apart even when he can’t see who it is.

“Presents for my pretty pony.”

We were out in the implement shed, stripped and wondering what he’d done with our tack when Roger called us over to the workbench.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” he said to Angie as he lifted her tail out of the box and smeared petroleum jelly over its plug and then worked it into her anus. She groaned and shifted her hips to make her intruder more comfortable before she gingerly stood up.

My turn next, but I think he spent more time working it in.

Gee our tails looked good.

Roger reached into a box and pulled a bunch of black leather straps out.  Wrapped inside them was something shiny and new. When Roger untangled the straps I saw it was a very different bit. He slipped my glasses into their case and pocketed it. Then he fitted the harness over my head, pulling my hair through a ring in the back, and before inserting the bit, kissed me deeply on the mouth. The bit was hard, had a tongue depressor that took away my ability to speak and side pieces ending in a circle that protruded from both ends of my bit. I suffered in silence as Roger adjusted straps and locked the whole thing on me with a silver padlock.

"Feel okay?" he asked.

Bounce bounce jingle jingle.

He dug in the box again, and pulled out a pair of shoes, and what strange shoes they were. They were big, and oddly shaped. It took a moment to take it all in.

They looked like high heels without the heels. Instead the soles had what looked like horse shoes attached to them. The shoes were a lot more like boots, in the way the tops stopped not below the ankle, but above it.

"Let’s try these on," he said, kneeling in front of me. Roger produced a sock, which he slipped over my left foot, before sliding on the shoe. I gripped his shoulder as the tight fitting item slid up and past my ankle. The inside was comfortable, but felt strange. I had been wearing sneakers for so long that my feet were not used to being shaped for heels. Roger began tightening laces until the upper molded itself to me.

Balancing on that foot, while the other was shod came as a surprise. The wide area covered by the horseshoe made it more stable than I would have expected.

Even though my heel wasn’t visibly supported, the tight fit around my ankle kept my foot in a position that supported my weight well. It was like walking on the balls of my feet.

With the other shoe on, the effect was magnified. Looking down at my feet, they looked like real horse feet, if those feet were black and smooth.

"Can you walk?"

I took a few tentative steps, and then started to walk more normally. But that didn’t feel right. I lifted my knees a little more and felt my foot placement become a little more natural. Something about the angle of my feet in the shoes required a more knees-up walking style.

"Be careful you don’t scratch the floor." I was told.

‘Yeah. Right the bloody floor is paved with old red bricks,’ I thought.

I placed my feet carefully and made my way back to Roger. The next step was to secure my hands. This he did by crossing them behind my back, elbows bent, just below my shoulder blades. Another padlock through D rings in my wrist cuffs locked them to my harness. Not the most comfortable position, but I guess, as far as Roger was concerned, a very attractive one. It made me arch my back slightly and thrust my breasts forward.

Roger said that he hoped Angie had been taking notes because he might need us to tack up each other if he was ‘busy’ and he then tacked her up exactly like me and giving her the same admonition, “Be careful you don’t scratch the floor.”

The final step was attaching the new reins. These he got out of the box, and once unwrapped I saw they were actually separate supple leather straps that ended with a length of fine stainless steel chain. He had me spread my legs and threaded the chain through my left labia ring. Angie clomped around behind Roger and her eyes glazed over as she watched him fit my reins. The chain felt cold against my skin, but I didn’t move. Well, I shivered but I couldn’t move.

Roger brought the end up my front, and threaded it through my left nipple ring, before attaching it to the left end of the bit gag. Smiling, he threaded the other one through my opposite rings and connected it the same way. I now had two reins attached to my bit gag, threaded through both my nipple and labia rings. I was apprehensive as Roger called Angie over to get her reins fitted. She clomped over very close to him and spread her legs wide.

‘Tart,’ I thought, ‘if he’s not careful he’ll bloody well fall in,’ and then felt terrible because I knew that I could trust him not to do anything that would hurt either of us.

It wasn’t quite done yet. He had me tilt my head forward until my chin was close to my chest, then he took a couple of tiny locks and connected them to the reins just below my nipple rings. When I lifted my head the locks pulled on my nipple rings, lifting my breasts up. Looking straight ahead, my breasts were lifted almost out of the cups, my nipples centered almost perfectly.

"You look great! You feel okay?"

Bounce Ow! Jingle

Bouncing my breasts pulled hard at my nipples, but the little bells still rang sweet and true.

Standing behind me he took the reins in hand and looped them over a chair. Then it was Angie’s turn to tilt her head forward and have the locks fitted to her reins just below her nipple rings.

Then he had us stand side by side while he fitted our blinders and gathered up the reins and adjusted them in his hand.

“We’ll try ‘em this way for a while,” he said. “Could hitch ‘em over the shoulders too, but that could get messy.”

‘Messy,’ I thought, ‘the bloody chains’ll be coated solid before I’ve gone twenty feet.’

"I assume you remember what I mean when I pull on these," he said, "but just to make sure we’ll go through it now. A flick against your ass means go." He demonstrated by flicking the reins somehow, and I felt them strike me on the butt. We began to walk slowly forward.

"Good, a pull to the left or right means turn that way." He pulled on the right rein, tightening it against my pussy lips and breast. Our heads pulled down and to the right, so we obediently started wheeling. Our training as a Siamese pony kicked in as Angie shortened her steps and I lengthened mine.

“Good turn, keep moving."

We kept going until he released the tension and then wheeled left a little when he pulled that side. We were almost at the implement shed door when he said, "To stop, I do this." He jerked hard on the reins, and our heads and nipples went down. The rubbing of the chain against my pussy lips sent a small wave of pleasure through me and Angie too I imagined because we stopped immediately.

"Good, you remember the basics so let’s go outside." We started to move toward the door, but were brought to a stop with another sharp pull.

"Hey! You don’t move until I give the proper cue. Understand?"

A little shocked at the hard pull, we did our best to signal a yes in unison with our breasts, and then stood waiting until he gave us the go signal. We reached the door without further incident, and he reached around me to open it. The air outside was fresh, but not too bad. The sun was bright and felt warm on my skin, and thankfully there was little wind. We were directed into the yard.

"If I keep flicking your ass, it means speed up." Roger told us, doing so, we picked up the pace, growing more confident with our footwear with each step. Balanced as I was on the balls of my feet, it seemed my legs had a little more bounce to them, and made lifting my knees a little higher easier. We headed back toward the implement shed, and Roger stopped us at the fence and hitched the reins to it.

He left us while he brought out the surrey. We stomped and jingled a bit in our new shoes and chewed at our bits to get them more comfortable. I thought that if anyone heard us they’d think that Santa Claus was dashing through the Aussie bush. It was still the first time that I had worn my tail and the butt plug was a constant reminder of the beautiful thing that brushed silkily against my legs. My wrists locked up between my shoulder blades were something else that I couldn’t forget.

Then he backed us up so he could hitch us to the surrey. He said that he’d have to get Graham to put together a couple of racing sulkies and then we’d be able to have pony races if we had a decent track. He warmed us up on the driveway and then went over all the valley’s tracks to check for rain damage and we went up all the steepest ones.

The views across the valley from the top of the falls must have been beautiful, it smelt of eucalyptus and crisp clear air. I couldn’t even see it from under my blinder. When he drove us back he turned us out to ‘graze’ in the house paddock with our blinders and reins were removed. We had shade, clean water in a big dish to drink (you ought to try that wearing a bit gag while holding your hair out of the water with your wrists locked up between your shoulder blades and wearing high heels), and soft grass to sit or lie on.

With Lewis home and with the racing sulkies, the weekends quickly became pony girl days, with both Angie and myself done up in our pony gear. We would have pony races up and down the driveway, or we’d be hitched together to pull the surrey along some of the steeper trails along the valley. Not that we were able to see where we were anyway.  We were always masked with our blinders on these trips, the view reserved for whoever was driving us. I remember one time Roger had us both in harness, and expressed an intention, while we were out, to go to the Currency Creek bottle shop to get a couple of slabs. You should have heard the protests we put up, almost as bad as when Roger left us alone for the first but Roger was just teasing us and didn’t really take us there.

Ponygirl days came to be very special to both of us.

Angie and I got really into belly-dancing and became very proficient. One of the other practitioners was a young somewhat coltish and reserved psychologist who quizzed us about our astonishing ability to synchronize our movements seemingly without cues and caught us giving each other ‘breast ‘answers. She didn’t say anything about it to us until after she bumped into Angie in the City one day and Angie jingled. She buttonholed us after a class and said that she knew we were into some sort of submissive relationship and that she knew that they were good for us and she wanted to know if she could jingle like Angie. We stonewalled, and on the way home we talked about it and...