The ExWife Adventure 27-35 free porn video

The Ex-Wife Adventure 27-35 ------------------------------ by Amelie Fortescue copyright c2020 Amelie Fortescue. 27. Police The gamekeeper sent us a written report. I thought it was a courtesy, but it was an order, and to distract Sheila and myself, Barbara gave us a bit of a potted history of the estate associated with Lord Reginald Fawcet of Crowle - the ninth of that ilk. "Reggie and I were friends as children. My parents were tremendous socialites and world travellers. I think they sort of loved me, but towing children around was all a damned nuisance for them. The eighth earl's wife was my mother's best friend, and when she offered to take me as a playmate for Reggie in all the school holidays, mother agreed with alacrity. Reggie and me truly were best friends, and even during/after puberty we stayed platonic friends without any sexual complications. I can tell you this next bit, because all the trails have gone cold by now ... The big trouble with families like Reggie's is inheritance tax ... Every time the current head of the family dies, the taxman demands a big slice of the family's accumulated wealth, so every generation the family gets poorer and/or the family gets further into debt. You often hear of cases where landed gentry are living in unheated, leaky, grand mausoleums just because of their traditions. Reggie thought that was all wrong, and he wanted to find a way to avoid it happening again to the Fawcet family fortune. We talked and plotted for ages and finally hatched a plan that was worth trying. It was risky - as all such plans are, and we might have ended up in jail. I had already obtained my own inheritance - less the share taken by the taxman, and it seemed that I had controlling interest in a small bank. Reggie persuaded his pater - that's latin for father - to go along with our plan - he was happy to strike at the greedy taxman - he worked out that he would be dead within five years, and that's the absolute maximum prison time he could serve. My bank accepted a mortgage arrangement for the entire estate for an agreed realistic sum, and the money was paid to the Fawcets, who very quickly defaulted on the mortgage. The bank took full vacant posession of the estate and formed a small company to run the estate as a business venture. The manager of the company decided that the estate needed an 'executive' tenant to run the estate, and pay rent to the company. Strangely ... the company selected Freddie Fawcet as the 'executive' tenant. And when Freddie's pater died, Freddie became the new earl without paying any death duties! Ta Da!" Barbara finished with a flourish. "The end result is that legally Freddie is effectively my tenant, and I am his landlord - although as the best friend I ever had as a child, in my eyes Freddie is master of the estate, and normally I never, ever interfere," Barbara added as an afterthought. - - - - The report by the head game keeper stated what we already knew and also filled in lots of gaps. It seemed that the poachers had been quite canny. They had dug a chamber next to a badger set, and tunnelled to another chamber next to a nearby badger set. They were lucky to have two badger sets so close, and to not scare off the badgers during their preparations and activities. The game keeper suggested that the strong badger pong that the poachers drenched themselves with may have been a factor. The badgers were important, because all the estate dogs hated badgers, and steered clear of them, so whenever the gamekeepers found a spoor left by the poachers, no dog would follow the trail, and so the poachers were more elusive than ghosts. The underground chambers contained a multitude of different snare types as well as crossbows and a good supply of quarrels. There was a fully equipped butcher's bench - so no complete carcases ever left the estate, and all the left-over offal was buried randomly around the woods to create confusion among the dogs seeking caches of carcases. The three poachers caught all had criminal records including GBH, ABH, robbery, burglary, and murder. There were no data records of any kind on their persons or within the underground complex, but trip cameras had been left in the underground chambers, and the arrests had been kept quiet long enough for other members of the gang to get caught in the chambers. The game keeper congratulated Barbara on her forethought regarding the radios, and focussed on the GPS tracker facility of Sheila's radio permitting a successful conclusion to the poaching saga, as well as saving Sheila's life and my own. - - - - There was no escaping the police this time. An inspector and a sergeant arrived together by appointment, and looked around inquisitively as the sergeant rang the bell at the front door. I was in my very prettiest shortest French Maid attire as I went to answer the door. We had discussed how to present me to the police, and finally decided that there could be no hiding of the slutty maid when so many witnesses had seen the kinky half-naked pony girl. Any deviation would inflame suspicion and further enquiries. Deep down I wanted to present as Fred, but then Fifi would be a missing crucial witness in their enquiry. Fifi would also have to admit living a double life as Frances/Fifi - We hoped the tangled knots would put off the police from tangential enquiries to 'simple' assault, kidnapping and false imprisonment, attempted rape, attempted murder and venison poaching. "God, I hope it doesn't go as far as a public trial!" I shuddered, as images of newspaper front pages flashed across my imagination. I opened the door and blushed crimson as I curtsied prettily to the two policemen. Luckily they were taken fully aback, and stuttered about their appointment, so I ushered them inside, and swinging my hips saucily, I led the way into the lounge. Sheila and Barbara rose to their feet to greet our visitors. Both my wives had dressed as sedately as possible - First glance suggested two old maids from the Victorian era. The policemen were much more relaxed when they shook hands with my wives. "Fifi, serve tea and sandwiches, please!" Sheila ordered me, and the policemen stared in awe as I dropped a low curtsey. "Yes, Mistress Sheila." And I backed towards the door, and disappeared to the kitchen. Barbara was living the moment and was loving my performance - It seemed that Barbara would want to see much more of this royal treatment. I sighed as I remembered our secreted cameras around the house. We three would later thoroughly analyse all our interchanges with the police. The police felt more comfortable without me in the room, and they rapidly got down to business by questioning all the already known facts. Sheila and Barbara presnted themselves as unworldly, but harmless ladies, who wanted their adorable servant to be happy and to do well in the world. They blamed me for all the kinks. Apparently it was all my idea to be a kinky, half-naked pony girl, and with some misgivings they had supported my desires. "Do you know that our maid Fifi is really Frances Cardew, the managing director of a successful IT company?" Sheila asked the inspector confidentially in a whisper. The inspector nodded. "I also know that you two ladies work for her company!" he challenged them. Sheila and Barbara giggled together like silly schoolgirls. "It's great fun pretending to work for a living - isn't it, Sheila?" Barbara giggled, and the inspectors brows rose quizzically. "Aren't you the heiress of the Gingerford fortune, madam?" the inspector challenged Barbara. "Oh, yes! ... It's good to have lots of spending money!" Barbara giggled and Sheila giggled with her. "We bought Fifi a special dogcart - no she doesn't call it a dogcart - it's a 'miserable' - no, it's called a 'sulky' cart!" Barbara pronounced proudly. The inspector shook his head in despair. "I would like to speak to miss Cardew now!" "He means Fifi, Barbara - She'll be back soon with our tea - do you both take lemon with your tea?" Sheila enquired, and both policemen shook their heads in despair. "That will be cream for both of you gentlemen then!" Barbara offered obtusely. - - - - I entered the lounge with the large heavy tray using my elbow to open the door and my bum to close it behind me. I curtsied low to the policemen, and again to my mistresses. The policemen were switched back into hypnotised-by-snake mode as my curtsy revealed most of the cleavage of my false breasts. I placed the tray on the coffe table and interrogated how the two police wanted their tea - they gave distracted answers and I served each of them with another low curtsy, then served my mistresses. As I passed around plates of delicate sandwiches, the inspector began to recover. "Miss Cardew, I need to interview you regarding the events of yesterday ..." "Please, inspector ... in this house I am merely Fifi, the maid ... please call me Fifi!" "Very well. 'Fifi' ... Please sit down! ..." I plonked on the carpet at his feet and looked up into his blue eyes. He looked down at me, and stuttered and lost his thread. The sergeant fidgeted nervously as my stockinged legs spread towards him. He was fascinated by my ballet boots. "Please sit in a chair, Fifi!" The inspector cleared his throat as he cleared his mind, and I complied and smiled gently at him. He tried again and succeeded in getting me to confirm everything that had been written in my statement. He then coughed and asked a supplementary question. "Fifi, you are something of an outrageous fetishist - are you not?" I smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, sir, I am ... I find the kinky life relaxing after a hard day at work - are you the same?" The inspector burst into bluster and went red as his sergeant hid a grin. "I think we have everything we need right now!" The inspector signalled to his sergeant as they both stood to go. "I expect - with the weight of evidence - the gang will all plead guilty, and then none of you will be needed any further ... Goodbye, ladies!" I followed them to hold the door and gave them a final cleavage-revealing curtsey before I shut them out. I emitted a huge sigh of relief as I collapsed leaning back against the door. I heard the end of a conversation through the door. "If it goes to court, sergeant, we can't call Fifi - Miss Cardew as a witness - When the defence cross-examine her, She'll turn the trial into a sex-romp farce!" "Fifi, get your ass into the bedroom this instant - You deserve a severe punishment for your flirtatious behaviour with those nice policemen!" Both my mistresses had bright gleams in their eyes, so I knew that the rest of the day would be given over to torture and sex - My torture and their sex - maybe they would remove my cage at some point, if they felt sorry for me. "Such is the price of love!" I sighed as I hurried to obey. - - - - "Sheila is with me on this, Fifi, so stop making difficulties!" Playtime break had been declared, so we were all talking as equals. "I don't like it!" I insisted again and tried to stamp my ballet boot on the tiled floor - it slipped and we all giggled as I fell on my ass. Sheila thew herself on top of me to pin me to the floor. "Look, Fifi, to me you'll always be the breadwinner that I respect and adore, but Barbara needs to feel comfortable after what happened on Saturday!" "I nearly lost both of the most important people in my life in a single event - Both within whisker of being killed and butchered!" Barbara burst into tears, which fell on us like rain. Sheila and I each extended an arm towards her and she collapsed on top of us forming a group hug on the floor. "Barbara really needs you to agree!" Sheila insisted. "She is really suffering here!" Sheila kissed Barbara, and the crying was paused. "Ok," I gasped from the bottom of the pile of bodies, "I agree - but you don't know what this is costing me!" "I know - within a few million - how much it is costing me!" Barbara chortled happily, before kissing me enthusiastically. Barbara had suddenly faced up to mortality over the events of that Saturday, and had realised that as well as Sheila and myself, Barbara herself was not immortal. Barbara had decided to open a trust fund - She had no living relatives and few friends - even fewer close friends - and just two lovers. She wanted her lovers to be beneficiaries at her death. I had two objections to the fund. I had no wish to benefit from Barbara's death, and I wanted to retain full financial independence - but when a woman you love is thwarted by mere intellectual principles, then those principles become history. The change in Barbara was magical - she had untold wealth and it was unwanted and ignored by her friends - now she felt she was fully accepted. "Playtime!" Barbara announced. "Fifi, you must be punished for opposing my will - no pun intended!" She laughed and Sheila grinned at me lovingly, so I protested in a very weak voice, "But, Mistress Barbara, I did agree!" She smiled at me before adopting a fierce expression, "You were far too slow agreeing, young lady. You must be punished!" And my two mistresses frog-marched me to the bedroom. "You know, Sheila, if we all lived at my house, the dungeon there is much more convenient than the bedroom here. Let's think about it, heh?" - - - - 28. New Breasts I was tightly bound to the pole-dancing pole - Barbara loved 'Sweet Gwendoline' poses, but Barbara was busy removing my bra and false breasts. I was puzzled but the efficient gag prevented any idle enquiry. Sheila watched quietly with a huge grin on her face, until Barbara asked her 'assistant' to help. The electrical clip seemed fearsome as it was brought up to my chest - I forced myself to calm down - Psychological torture - "Just ignore the empty implied threat!" I reminded myself, and then nearly burst my bonds in shock and pain as the crocodile teeth of the spring clip seized on my poor exposed nipple. Barbara tugged on the wire to ensure that the clip had taken a firm grip, and as the shock ebbed, I became as voluble and loud as possible in my gag-talk objections. Barbara sat next to Sheila on the bed holding hands and looked at me fondly as my objections faded as the pain gradually became bearable. I knew what would happen next when Barbara stood up again, and sure enough a second clip became firmly seated in my remaining nipple. I decided then and there that I would have to divorce both of them - they couldn't possibly care for me - let alone love me to treat me like this. Barbara grinned a consoling grin, as she replaced my false breasts and bra. "If you agree to electrical punishment just now, you can have a revenge session tomorrow." Sheila stood up to face me. "Barbara and I think our relationship with you might need rebalancing a little in your favour, and we're prepared to let you control a scenario tomorrow evening ..." They had my attention as they stood smiling at me and the clips faded from my consciousness, as I nodded to demonstrate my interest. It began as a tickling that turned into an repetitive itch that became painful and then burned. My nipples were on fire! I writhed in agony - sexual agony - against my post, my wives covered my cheeks in kisses until they grew tired and then sat to watch my performance. Unreasonably, my penis was attempting to burst out of its cage. Suddenly it all stopped and Barbara and Sheila rapidly freed me from my pole, and Sheila removed my cock cage and launched herself backwards onto the bed. "The gag stays on!" commanded Barbara, before she leapt backwards onto the bed alongside Sheila. I leapt on top of Sheila trailing wires behind me and ravaged her in a savage rape, and then turned my attention to a feebly- protesting - but badly-pretending Barbara. I decided that I might delay divorcing these cruel but fascinating women. When we were eventually satiated I lay quietly between them gasping for breath, and Sheila and Barbara reached inside my bra to remove the electrical clips. I gritted my teeth as the removal reminded me of the pain forgotten during the ecstasy. Sheila then removed my gag while Barbara replaced my chastity cage. "That was fun!?" exclaimed Barbara in a combined comment and enquiry. Both Sheila and I agreed enthusiastically, and then we created a huge tangle of bodies as we all tried to kiss two people at the same time. Finally laying back exhausted on the bed, Barbara outlined the plan. "Fifi, tomorrow, Sheila will retire to bed early with a headache, and I will order you upstairs to administer to her needs - unfortunately Sheila will be inattentive, and the treacherous maid will take advantage of her. I will follow upstairs to investigate the delay in the maid's return, and might easily fall victim to a prepared ambush ... How does that sound, Fifi?" she asked, and I almost wet myself with anticipation, but satisfied myself by initiating a lot more kissing and fondling. "Do you think the electrical punishment heightened your enjoyment?" Sheila enquired, and I was forced to admit it had. "Ok, you can expect a lot more electrical punishment, Fifi ... My arm hurts from all the spanking you deserve!" Barbara contributed. "I still want to try out that bullwhip sometime ..." Sheila mused, and I turned my face to meet her stare, until she giggled. I had no idea whether she was serious, those things could cause a lot of damage to my poor hide, Sheila was becoming an enthusiastic convert to sadism, and I worried about it. Her latest reading seemed to involve whipping slaves, who were tied or chained spread-eagled to trees or columns. I kissed her, and she grinned at me with love in her eyes, and then she returned my kiss enthusiastically. The divorces were definitely postponed. - - - - 29. The Flat Race I had been entered for the big race. There was prize money to be had - but more important than that - there was a shining 'gold' enamel-painted cup to be won and engraved. Barbara had set her heart on winning that cup, and as her chosen pony girl, it was my job to deliver it for her. I had absorbed a storm of threats of retribution should I fail her. She was so single-minded that I believed all of them. "Fifi, just stay calm! Running at 'Cheetah Gait' nobody else stands a chance ... You are fit and free of injuries - they might as well give Barbara the cup now - before the race!" Sheila laughed as she slapped my exposed bottom - The rules did not allow my tennis skirt. Barbara had 'pushed the boat out' in her garb - she wanted to look good for posterity - the photograph of the winner would join the gallery of all previous winners. As she approached to mount the sulky, Sheila intercepted her. "Not a single word to Fifi!" Sheila commanded. "Fifi will do her absolute best, but any further threats will unsettle her!" she advised, and waved as Barbara guided me to the start. I thoroughly enjoyed the race. I was already in the lead as I reached my top speed in 'Galloping Gait', and switched to 'Cheetah Gait'. The race was to be four circuits of the track, and after one circuit, I was working hard bounding along in great airborne leaps, when I saw the obstructions ahead. Some fool had let some carts onto the course to practice before the race, and they hadn't cleared the course! They were going to spoil Barbara's grand occasion. Luckily they were far ahead and moving quite fast so I had time to adjust, and Barbara gave my bottom an unnecessary flick with the whip to indicate that she had seen them and was in control. Just before the third lap we caught and passed the slowest cart, and then one by one we passed various others. They were now obviously part of the previous race - it was plain crazy to start a race before the previous race had completed - They might spoil everything. As we passed the winning post for the final time, Barbara heaved back on my reins and I slowed through all the gaits until I was high-stepping at a walking pace. Barbara directed me to the winners enclosure with a huge grin on her face ... But there was a problem, and a steward had to be called before the groom at the gate would allow us to enter. I felt frustrated at the inefficient and confused state of the organisation as I waited patiently panting heavily for the other entrants to arrive. Barbara accepted a coarse, scratchy bath towel from an attendant and rubbed me down contentedly. - - - - It was unbelievable! Disqualified! Just not possible! It seemed that several complaints had been lodged against me, and the stewards were considering disqualifying us. It seemed that 'Cheetah Gait' was unrecognised and potentially dangerous with the pony spending so much time airborne, and ought to be stamped out straight away. Furthermore, lapping during a pony race should be deemed unsafe and disruptive, and declared to be a disqualifying offence. We were going to be disqualified for racing too fast! It was incredible. The stewards were conservators of the sport and they upheld the objections - It would be boring for spectators to see me win every race until other ponies could copy me. Barbara was deadly calm, and that worried me. She was polite when Sheila commiserated with her. I gratefully accepted the sugar lump, as Barbara patted my neck, and told me that i was a 'good pony'. I dreaded the build up to an awful explosion - like a ticking time bomb with no idea of the time. Barbara went and sat in the car, and left Sheila to unharness the cart and push it into the horse box on her own. Sheila pushed me fully- harnessed and bridled into the horse box before shutting me in. "Be a good girl, Fifi! We need to get Barbara home after this big disappointment!" I was disappointed as well. I was disappointed not to have won for my own sake and disappointed for Barbara. I wanted to sit down, but that damned crotch strap would have castrated me or cut me in half. I leant against the wobbling sulky and tried to relax, as Sheila sped us home. - - - - "I've given up racing!" Barbara mournfully announced at breakfast. I curtsied in response, but felt some regrets - lots of regrets actually. I had eventually enjoyed my excursions as a pony girl. Despite the humiliating dress code, and the uncomfortable depressor bit, and the whip-flicking, overall I had enjoyed myself. Sheila entered brightly and sat down for breakfast while pushing a gift- wrapped parcel towards Barbara. "It's not my birthday yet!" Barbara protested, and Sheila clucked impatiently. It was a race winner's cup exactly like the one awarded to the declared winner, except the engraving was different. "Outstanding First Finisher" replaced where "Winner" would have been on the real cup. Barbara leant across the table and hugged and kissed Sheila tearfully. "Five punishment points, Fifi, for gawping and not serving Mistress Sheila with her breakfast!" The old Barbara was back. "What about cross-country pony racing - you know - with gradients and obstacles?" Sheila was suggesting as I slipped into the kitchen. I might still be needed as a pony girl. I sniggered as I imagined upsetting the sulky and tipping Barbara into a slimy pond. - - - - Sheila had cornered me ... Barbara had gone home for an hour or so to catch up on her personal admin work "Moving her millions around," I told Sheila facetiously. "So, Fifi, you know how much, I like that nice bullwhip that Barbara bought for me two months ago ...?" I froze and stared at her with an extremely frosty stare. Sheila tickled me under my chin, and playfully handcuffed me, and pushed me down to fall sitting on the lounge couch. My trapped arms pushed my chest towards Sheila as she assumed a dominant stance directly in front of me. "Please, Mistress Sheila, I need to clear the table ... and then there's the laundry to get started! ... Please, Mistress Sheila, forget all about your nice whip ... and don't forget that the leather deteriorates rapidly with use! No, you shan't whip me, Sheila!" I asserted strongly as I looked up into her smiling face. "That's an idea, Fifi ..." she pretended to be thoughtful. "If I wanted to try it .. to check whether it's faulty ... or just the wrong size for me, I would need somebody to whip ... I couldn't whip Barbara, and whipping myself wouldn't work at all ... so who's left? .. I know ... Fifi, would you mind very much if I were to test it on you?" Sheila's eyes gleamed at me. "No, no, and thrice no!" I insisted and shook my head vigorously to underline my rejection of the whole idea. Sheila beamed at me, "Oh, darling Fifi, thank you for letting me whip you!" I quickly realised the failure in communication, and spluttered my correction. Sheila adopted a disappointed hangdog look. "Oh, Fifi, you raise me up to let me down ... I am very disappointed in you ... It cannot be so very bad ... There are people on the porn flicks who get whipped all the time ..." "But they only pretend to whip them!" I protested. "They wipe the victim with the whip instead of lashing then with it! It's just not real, Sheila!" I insisted. "Maybe I could just wipe you with my nice whip?" Sheila entreated, and I realised that I had walked into a trap of my own making, but there was one last hope. "Sheila, why would you ever want to whip someone you love?" I tried emotional blackmail, but she had an answer. "Because our lovemaking is unbelievable immediately after you've been severely punished!" She grinned at me slyly. "Pretty, please!" she wheedled. "You're just going to wipe it on me?" I queried, and she brightened. "Of course, silly, wiping it like you described is the best way ... to start." She grabbed me in a neck lock and kissed me excitedly to distract me from the full import of her agreement. "Let's do it now, Fifi!" She was excited. "There's enough daylight left and the old swing under the apple tree will hold you - we just need to drag the swing seat up out of the way. Put these cuffs on your wrist and ankles, Fifi! This is going to be so much fun!" Sheila giggled and clapped her hands. I looked at the cuffs, and realised that Sheila knew she was going to get her own way from the very start - I don't suppose that I was the first husband to be out-manoeuvred by his wife. Sheila rushed to fetch her whip and a small leather bag, an chivvied me to hurry into the back garden. She'd forgotten that she was much shorter than me, so I had to fetch a garden chair for her to stand on as she clipped my wrist straps high onto the swing chains and clipped the swing seat to each wrist. The bag contained a pair of tent pegs and a mallet, which she employed to hold my ankles apart at a wide stretch. I had to turn my ankles outwards to take my weight at the ridiculous angle to the ground. Sheila removed my corset and false breasts so that I would 'enjoy' the experience to the max. Sheila was dancing around - very excited. "I won't gag you unless you start to get loud ... We don't want the neighbours getting curious, do we?" "You must stop as soon as I ask you!" I insisted. "Yes, yes!" Sheila answered impatiently as she practised swinging the whip at nothing-in-particular. "Are you ready, darling?" she enquired absently, and failed to wait for my reply. The sensation was like being flicked by a wet towel, but along a much narrower area. "was that Ok, darling?" she enquired and not trusting my voice I nodded. I decided I could manage a dozen of those. Just concentrate on the sex to follow. The next fell without warning and a searing pain followed a stripe parallel to the first, and I shouted at her to stop. "That was a bit harder than I intended, darling. I'm still getting used to this whip ... I'll be much more expert next time!" "Next time?" I exploded. "You've cut my back open already, and you speak of 'next time'?" "Darling there's a red mark, with a wheal, but no blood at all - I'll be more gentle with the next one - I promise!" And the next one arrived to punctuate her words, and it was a repeat of the last one. "Stop, stop, stop!" I shouted. "Darling, something clicked in my wrist - that shouldn't have happened. Trust me I will get it right!" Despite my protestations, Sheila had whipped me six times before she freed me, and then insisted on re-dressing me in breasts and corset before allowing me to ravage her. The ravaging was excellent, and as we later lay entwined and exhausted in bed, I knew that I still loved my sadistic, manipulative wife. Sheila played nurse, and treated my back with ointment and we were both asleep before Barbara returned. - - - - 30. New Home "Playtime Break, Fifi!" Barbara shouted from the lounge, so I abandoned my washing up to wander in to the lounge to see what was cooking. "Sit down, Fifi!" Sheila ordered, as she moved sideways, so that I would be sat in the middle. My 'Spidey Sense' told me that I would soon learn something-to-my- disadvantage. "We've ben talking ..." Barbara began, "... and we think your opinion should be sought ... It's a 'go-nogo' type of decision, so a democratic vote would be best. "I propose that we all change our place of abode to 'my house'! ... Those in favour?" It was a plot disguised as a fair decision - two hands were instantly raised, and I was outvoted. "But, Mistresses, this is where I want to live! I don't want to be a parasite living in Barbara's house!" I protested weakly. "Barbara's house has a swimming pool!" Sheila gushed. "Barbara's house has a fully-fitted dungeon!" Barbara grinned. "We'll give you a Veto, if you really want to disappoint us." Sheila offered and she got a severe glance from Barbara. So it was decided - my house would be mothballed, and we would all move to Barbara's house. Depressed - I curtseyed to each mistress and returned to the kitchen. Barbara's house was well-maintained. Agency staff had ensured that it stayed in tip-top condition, so there was no need for Spring-cleaning when we arrived, Barbara gleefully informed me that the agency activities would be transferred to my house , and I would clean and maintain her house from that moment onwards. "Please, give the dungeon a good dusting, Fifi ... The agency staff have never been allowed in there!" Barbara gave Sheila a grand tour of the entire house and grounds, and finished by showing her the Maid's room. "Didn't Fifi share your bed, Barbara?" Sheila asked uncertainly. "Mostly - yes, but whenever Fifi had been a bad girl, she either slept in the dungeon or in this very 'girly' bedroom on her own," Barbara replied quietly, and fondled the rings and chains attached to key places on the bed frame. "I didn't see a bed in the dungeon?" Sheila enquired. "There isn't one! ... Fifi would sleep attached to one apparatus or another ..." Barbara forgot to mention that 'attached' usually meant strict bondage of some sort. I hugged Barbara to demonstrate no ill feeling. "What's come over you, girl?" Barbara broke free angrily, and then grinned at me. "Five punishment points for 'forward' behaviour!" she purred happily. "I don't want Fifi sleeping in a room on her own - or in the dungeon!" Sheila stated. "We'll see ... We'll take each occasion on a case-by-case basis," Barbara summarized. - - - - Living in Barbara's house was like finding a long-lost pair of comfortable carpet slippers. No adjustment needed to fit right in, and totally familiar and comforting. I knew where everything was and where it should all be kept - I had worked in the house as the maid for years and years - and here I was again! Barbara took me to one side for a private word. "Fifi, Playtime Break - I want you to play up in front of Sheila, so that I can punish you by sending you to the maid's room for the night ... I want some alone-time with Sheila - a sort of honeymoon night - you understand?" I glumly nodded my head in compliance. Barbara wanted her fun with Sheila to be uninhibited, and I would be in the way. I was serving tea when I tripped in those stupid ballet boots, and an almost-hot cup of tea was projected into Sheila's lap. She jumped to her feet, and scolded me angrily. I was angry at her sudden anger, and I shouted back at her. "Fifi, you forget your place!" Barbara shouted me to silence. "You can contemplate your error in your own room tonight!" she concluded smugly. "That's following a well-deserved caning in the dungeon!" Sheila added - she was not mollified by a simple banishment. Sheila really wanted me to feel pain. Every blow was meant to hurt. I was securely gagged and strapped over the spanking bench with my stockings lowered to my ankles to reveal both legs and bottom as prime targets for the cane. "Do you realise how much that scolding-hot tea hurt?" she whacked my upper thigh. More than your legs will hurt after even I've finished with you!" Whack. "You'll be more careful from now on, you clumsy oaf!" Whack. "I might have been scarred for life!" Whack - It went on for twelve cuts, and then Barbara helped me to the maid's room, where she annointed my wounds, and chained me to the bed. "I'm truly sorry, Fifi. I expect that Sheila will make it up to you tomorrow, when I explain!" Barbara smiled wanly and waved as she went out, and then she locked my door. - - - - I was woken early by my door bursting open, and a whirlwind leapt on me hugging and crying. My blindfold was dislodged, and I identified the whirlwind as Sheila. Sobbing heart-rending sobs she removed my gag, and started to remove my wrist and ankle fetters. "Fifi, oh, Fifi, Barbara has just told me the truth about last night!" sobbed Sheila. "I know all about last night!" I snickered quietly, and then kissed her gently, "Barbara left the Maid-Comms open and set to call-mode ... I heard every endearment and every sigh ..." I mused. "I don't mean that ... What? ... You heard everything?" she shrieked, and turned red everywhere - Her white gossamer nightie turned pink from her embarrasment. "Never mind that!" she insisted annoyed. "I would like to say I'm sorry for beating you for ... effectively helping Barbara get me alone last night, and if you weren't so annoying, I would give you another kiss!" I grabbed her and we tongue-wrestled until we stopped for breath. "I'm sorry, Mistress Sheila, I don't know what came over me!" I curtseyed demurely in apology. "You're a bad liar, Fifi. You know exactly what came over you!" Sheila initiated the next wresting match on top of the covers of my bed. - - - - 31. New Look The new uniform met with my approval. If I had to be a pony girl, then the changes were definitely acceptable. I looked in the full length mirror, and smiled at my admiring wives, and lusted uncontrollably after the pony girl reflected in the glass. If my previous appearance as a flat-race pony was as a half-naked cherub, then my new look was that of a sophisticated fashionista type of pony. Take the 'cherub' uniform such as it is ... and supply several additions and a few changes. A tennis skirt no longer hung from my pony's tail, but the tail now emerged through a pocket in the new short, leather skirt at exactly the right height to avoid distorting the 'fall' of the hem. My torso was fully protected by a leather jacket from neck to waistband, and the long sleeves ended where my arms disappeared into my 'Arm-Baggy' behind me. My legs were covered in black vinyl stockings to just below my skirt hem, and were attached to my waist cincher by a dozen strong suspenders. My hoof boots were the same as before, but were thoroughly treated against mould and rot. The harness and bridle were identical, but there was no provision for attaching anything to my nipple rings. "Remember how good you look just now, Fifi!" Barbara giggled. "... because at the end of the race you'll be covered in mud and grass, and your makeup will be absolutely ruined." Sheila joined Barbara in laughing at me, and I sniggered through the bit gag as I confirmed my plan to tip Barbara into a slimy pond. "What are you sniggering at?" Sheila demanded. "I just thought it might be fun for everyone ..." I wanted to say. "Well, Fifi, remember the rules for cross-country"", Barbara was lecturing me, "However difficult the going gets , you have to stay locked up, and locked to the cart - Breaking any seals on your harness or arm-baggy or anywhere will get us disqualified! ... So ... As the pony I will give you more freedom to pick where to take the sulky - Missing large brambles, and big pot holes ,and fallen logs, et cetera. If I see an obstacle that you haven't, I'll signal by a small pull on the rein to bias you away from it, but If you've already seen it, and need to get closer anyway, I won't rip the bit out of your mouth. I'll trust your judgement Fifi! If we find any gradients too difficult or too dangerous to drive, simply stop and wait for me to dismount to help you with the sulky!" Barbara smiled. "... better not! - Because there will definitely be retribution!" she warned me. The course will be marked by waypoint flags - Pass green flags on the left, and red flags on the right - just like ships!" she giggled. "Missing a flag or passing on the wrong side gives instant disqualification. The next flag will always be visible from every flag location, and every driver can choose their own route between flags. It's a free-for-all race after the starting lineup, and I don't yet know how many ponies have been entered. ... I want you to avoid any collisions with other ponies and sulkies - A damaged sulky or pony is unlikely to win ... And I want to win!" I wondered how much protection my new uniform would really give me - The tops of my thighs - and under my skirt were very vulnerable to tall stinging nettles. - but I expect Barbara had already thought of that. - - - - 32. Point to Point Barbara proudly showed me the transport case. "No!" I was adamant. "But, Fifi, I've had it specially made - it should be very comfortable! I've always fantasised about kidnapping my Fifi professionally ..." "Not very comfortable for eight hours on the train to Scotland!" I argued. "It might be alright for an hour, but any longer would be purgatory!" "Ok, Fifi, ... Your kidnap can wait until we're back from Scotland, and I'll make sure that you don't spend more than an hour in the box!" I was stunned - somehow I had agreed to be fastened - secured helpless in a wooden crate. Before I could introduce further objections, Barbara had changed the subject. If we're not taking the crate to Scotland, we might as well fly to Glasgow instead, and then hire a car to the Highlands. But to pay me for the disappointment, Fifi, you must ride in the boot of the hire car - we'll tie you into tight bundle that won't roll about - we know what Sheila's driving is like." Sheila's ego was pricked. "With Fifi bound and gagged in the boot, I will be a super-careful and modest, average driver!" she asserted looking hurt. I sighed. - - - - The Scottish Highlands was the only existing practical place for cross- country pony racing using human ponies. Wales and the Cornwall had suitable terrain, but privacy there was always contaminated by tourists, walkers and campers. The racecourse was on the estate of a keen race supporter, who was the main sponsor, and chairman of the board of race stewards. The terrain was a good mix of surfaces and environments, and the race was organised to take place in the middle of the grouse-shooting season. His keepers were regularly on patrol firing into the sky whenever they saw hill- walkers - who promptly scampered away to their cars. Owners and riders were accommodated in plush bedrooms in the main house, or surrounding cottages - ponies were crowded into loose boxes in the stables. I grinned greetings around my bit gag to the other ponies in my loose box, and immediately noticed that they were all ungagged, but restrained by their arm-baggies like me. Lots of the girls seemed to know one another, and were catching up on gossip. I moved from group to group eavesdropping on idle conversations. Several girls noticed that I was gagged and commiserated with me and rubbed shoulders sympathetically, before finding someone else to converse with. There was fresh dry straw on the floor, but the automatic drinking fountain didn't work - We would all be very thirsty before the morning arrived. I stood and wandered contentedly in the pleasant atmospheric hubbub of excited voices. I expected someone would fill the trough with barley or oats later, but I wasn't feeling keen about that. One by one, owners and drivers fetched their ponies away. There were just two of us left, and the pony girl saw my worried expression, and that unusually, I was already gagged. "You're new - aren't you? Does your owner know he has to fetch you?" I shook my head negatively. "I'll tell my owner, and ask him to sort you out!" she promised as her owner beckoned her from the open door. Ten minutes later, Sheila and Barbara were feeding their pony girl in their room. "This is better than barley, but not as good as 'oats,'" I commented with an evil glint as Sheila moved a spoonful of prime steak towards my mouth, and then retracted it. "Oh, I think we can find some oats for you, Fifi .. " she slurred lazily, and I began to panic. "Please, Mistress Sheila, I didn't mean it .. and I need my strength building up for tomorrow's race!" "So no sexual gymnastics for you tonight then, Fifi?" Barbara shouted the enquiry from her chair. "But mistress, I really do need to be exercised as well as fed!" I countered, and they both laughed and advanced on me dramatically with hungry faces and staring eyes like wolves eying up their next kill. "You aren't going to eat me, are you?" I asked in my most pathetic voice as I backed away. "No, Fifi - You are going to eat us," Barbara declared, and we all three laughed as we fell in a heap on the bed - with me helpless at the bottom of the pile. It had been a while since I had worn the tongue stud , but Sheila insisted it was necessary. - - - - I slept free of bondage. I could stretch and cuddle. Only the chastity plate and waist cinch remained. Apparently I needed an amount of sexual frustration to help my performance in the race, and then also improve my performance after the race. I thought it was all tosh, but as a slave to two adorable bi-lesbians, I must obey. They didn't use a starting gun for the race, the distant, desultory shots and echoes from the guardian gamekeepers would have confused the racers. A loud air horn signalled the start, and the wide line of carts raced off as one all trying to take the shortest route to the far distant flag at the end of the meadow. Cattle and sheep scattered before us, and added an interesting spectacle to the start as they wheeled and dodged erratically in their panic. There was no 'squeeze' at the first flag, and the field was being drawn out. Barbara was saving me for later, and I wasn't supposed to over-exert for pole-position, so I was fifth past the flag pole - eagerly looking at the next flag. Barbara nudged my bit to the left - she didn't want me to be trapped inside the bunch. The second flag was where it got interesting - The obvious route followed a narrow track that zigzagged up the hillside to the third flag, and after five carts had set off the sixth and seventh carts tangled as they fought for the next slot. It was a big hold up at the start of the track ascent, so I turned up the hill and went for it straight up the grassy slope until I rejoined the track higher up. I could hear Barbara cursing about me not saving myself for later, but as I took the next zig, I could see that the tangle below persisted, and that there were five carts well in front of us. I knew that I was right! We went through woods and forded streams chasing down those five carts, and one-by-one we seemed to be overtaking them. There were just two carts ahead of us, when I saw a chance to cut a corner through a marsh. at the middle of the marsh there was a large pond emptied by a trickling stream. I suspected that the pond bank and the stream bank would offer firm footing, and decided that I could see a plausible route to cut across the head of the valley. With a loud neigh to warn Barbara, I plunged off the track to follow my instinct. I could indistinctly hear Barbara shouting threats at me - she must be thinking about being precipitated into a bog after all. I was worried in a few places, but kept up the momentum despite the treacherous and slippery conditions, and eventually regained the road in the lead. A glance showed the ex-leader exerting to close the gap - racing along the track, but also showed the second cart had noticed my tactic, and had emulated my actions, but had been unfortunate just before regaining the track. The pony girl was on her side at the edge of the bog, and the driver had been thrown clear, but was unmoving. I paused to watch the pony raise its head from the morass, but it simple foundered helplessly. Despite her promise, Barbara was now whipping me to continue - she was very aware of the nearby approaching pony cart. I waited for the pony cart to pass, and sped back towards the fallen pony. I was grateful for the leather parts of the uniform, because Barbara hadn't seen the accident, and she thought that I was mad, and deserved the very harshest of whippings to bring back sanity. I drew up above the crashed cart and neighed loudly to Barbara, who at last realised my intent. She dismounted and rushed knee-deep in the bog to help the capsized pony girl keep her head above the morass. I backed my cart towards her, and she commanded me to halt, when I still had reasonably solid footing. "Pull, Fifi! Pull!" Barbara commanded and I felt the resistance as Barbara linked herself between the back of the cart and the overturned pony. Slowly the ooze loosened its grip and they came free, and Barbara helped the pony girl to stand upright and her cart followed her. The cart's driver had fallen clear of the bog, and was rousing slowly after her bump on the head. Barbara jumped back into my cart and excitedly whipped me to continue. We raced at heart-bursting speed after the first cart, but failed to catch it. The race was lost. Despite being disappointed, Barbara gave me a very muddy hug, and Sheila ran up to us to hug us but changed her mind when she saw how filthy we were. We waited at the finish, and finally .. the pony girl and cart came trotting past the finish line. The pony girl saw us and brought her cart and driver over to us. The driver got down to hug Barbara, and the pony girl rubbed shoulders with me and chinned my neck in thanks. They had disqualified themselves for accepting aid - it was a race rule. I neighed greetings to the other pony, and under the mud I saw her gorgeous gagged smile before she neighed back. Someone needed a hairdresser, and her makeup had been spoiled, but she could still smile. There was an after-race party, and ponies were also invited. Barbara and Sheila did not know the protocol. Should ponies attend as ponies, or as humans? Eventually they found out that ponies should appear as humans at the party, and I was in the hands of my mistresses, as I transformed back into Fifi the unfettered maid. Before the meal, there was the prize giving, and Barbara was gracious as the winner and her pony accepted their cup. Barbara took a deep breath ready to ascend to accept the stage to accept second best. She waited standing in front of the chairman as he paused for dramatic effect. "As well as the gold plate for second place, the stewards award a special gold cup for the should-have-been winner!" He gave Barbara two prizes, and turned to me and clipped a 'Special Mention' rosette to my left earring and fed me a sugar lump. Sheila was ecstatic when we returned to our table, and then she laughed at me. "Does our little pony girl enjoy displaying her rosette like a prize bull?" "Yes," I said simply, and I was proud of my rosette. Sheila stared at me hard for a moment and then kissed and hugged me. "It was well deserved!" she exclaimed. Our interchange wasn't private, and the clapping gradually penetrated to my consciousness, and I blushed fiercely, and prepared to run. but both Sheila and Barbara restrained me. "Not the winner's cup..." Barbara mused aloud. "But that can be mine next year! This cup is unique, and has never been previously awarded!" Barbara seemed content. "I've had a dozen offers already." Barbara was talking to Sheila. "I certainly hope you told them all where to stick their offers!" Sheila was furious. "Of course, Sheila. We could never sell Fifi ... the buyer would be straight back demanding return of their money ... Fifi is a difficult acquired taste, but training her replacement would be a real pain!" They both laughed, and hesitantly I joined in. Corinda came across to introduce herself. We all wondered who she was, and then she smiled - and then I knew I leapt up and kissed her cheek, and gave her a hug. "Corinda, you're beautiful as a woman as well as a pony girl - you scrub up very nicely", I finished, and Sheila tugged my elbow. "That doesn't mean what you want it to mean, Fifi," she warned me. "That's alright!" Corinda grinned. "I gathered Fifi's intent to make a compliment." Corinda introduced her driver, Georgina, who approached shyly to shake hands. Corinda exchanged hugs and kisses with Barbara. "Thank you both, It was a race between choking to death or drowning in muddy soup ... thanks again ... Nice to meet you as well, Sheila." I went to hug Georgina, who stepped back to avoid my embrace. "Sorry, but I've insisted Georgina only hugs me ..." Corinda stated quietly. "Is Georgina your sub?" Barbara demanded in a surprised hissed whisper. "That's really quite kinky!" Sheila contributed. "The sub whipping the dom to speed her up!" "I am very kinky." Corinda giggled gently, "I've always enjoyed horsey stuff, and I decided I wanted to be a pony girl, so when Georgina became my slave, I taught her how to be my driver." She smiled lovingly at Georgina, who blushed and hugged her. Georgina is a masochist. So I have told her if she doesn't drive me hard with whip and reins - then I will deny her whip and torture afterwards! ... I am really very kinky ... Am I not, Georgina?" Georgina grinned and hugged her harder. "Bye!" Corinda waved her fingers as she left three stunned friends watching her retreating back leading an almost skipping Georgina behind her. "Are you a masochist, Fifi?" Sheila demanded suddenly, and I violently shook my head in denial. "I am merely an unwilling crossdresser, feminised by my two wonderful, adorable wives for their entertainment and pleasure ... and chained by physical bonds and by bonds of love to a life of servitude, pain and embarrassment!" I sighed theatrically. Sheila kissed my cheek fondly, and Barbara pinged my suspender strap. "I think I'm inclined towards sadism," Barbara admitted, and I showed her my theatrical shocked-horror face in response. Barbara and Sheila laughed and we had a group hug. - - - - 33. Ski Trip "Fred is a damn good skier, Barbara - No need to worry about Fifi!" Sheila was extolling my skills. "I know Fred was a great skier, Sheila, but Fifi might have a problem wearing normal ski boots!" And Sheila sniffed loudly at the leap in their argument. "Sheila, Fifi has been wearing ballet boots since forever, and ski boots simply aren't the same! Fifi's feet will need special ski boots with wedge heels, or else she will kill herself on the slopes ... I have found a little man in Austria, who swears he can give satisfaction ... and I have sent him a spare pair of Fifi's ballet boots to act as a template. He has promised that they will be ready when we arrive." I gathered that the three of us were booked to go skiing over the Christmas holidays. "I'll look a bit strange wearing high-heeled ski boots if any of Fred's friends spot me!" I mused aloud, and Barbara turned to face me as if I was a little child. "I know that Fred had a lot of skiing friends, but Fred isn't going skiing - Fifi is going skiing!" Barbara explained carefully. "Furthermore, Fifi will be skiing in a miniskirt - unless the weather is really bitter! So none of Fred's friends will ever see Fred skiing." I froze at the idea of skiing in a miniskirt using high-heeled ski boots. On one hand the image was horrific with frostbite on my delicates, but the prisoner in my cage was fully turned on by the idea. "At the end of the week, we'll go heli-skiing, and then Fifi, the pony girl can be harnessed to a sledge," Barbara finished. "Please, Barbara, let Fifi, the pony girl wear her cross-country uniform - not just the flat-race uniform?" I pleaded, and Sheila laughed. "Fifi, you don't object to pony girl skiing - you just want Fifi to be fashionable!" "Not at all, Mistress Sheila, I simply want Fifi to have some protection from the cold and the wind!" "We'll see!" Barbara commented enigmatically, and smiled her Cheshire Cat smile. - - - - Arrived at the airport in Austria, I chased around after all the luggage as my mistresses chatted together relaxedly. I knew better than ask them to help - there had been a put-down conversation before we left. "Please, mistresses, there's far more baggage than I can handle! Please, help me with it!" "Fifi, are you our maid slave - or are you not?" "Yes, mistress, I am the maid slave ..." "Then just get on with it - and if anything is missing when we get to the hotel, you'll be for it!" I waved a high value currency note over my head and a man claiming to be an official porter rushed over to help. - - - - "How's your German, Sheila? I know Fifi speaks German like a native," Barbara asked idly. "Like a native of Brazil ..." Sheila laughed cruelly, and felt sorry when she saw my face. "Sorry, Fifi, I know that Fred is quite the linguist, but I needed a quick laugh to help beat this rotten headache." "You too?" Barbara enquired. "I've had a headache since we left the plane. I grinned wryly. These two had developed tired headaches, but I had been given all the headaches, I had been permitted a feminine trouser suit for the journey, because I needed to use Fred's passport ... but the makeup and ballet heels made me look foolish every time the officials and staff examined my passport. ... and chasing and carrying heavy luggage items in ballet boots was asking for sprained ankles. Luckily the pony girl training had strengthened my ankles. But now with us and our luggage in the taxi heading for our hotel, I was at last looking forward to getting some skiing. - - - - My new ski boots were a success. They seemed strange at first and ski control was more sensitive than I really liked, but I quickly adjusted to them. I was skiing in my trouser suit - far from ideal and very restrictive. Sheila and Barbara hadn't noticed, because they were also far too busy remembering how to ski.. Eventually, of course I was caught out and escorted back into the hotel to change into my special ski suit - with the mini skirt. Everybody stared - Nobody ever skied in mini skirts, People would ski in swimwear, fancy dress and naked - but not in mini skirts with nylon stockings and suspenders. At least the repeated blushes helped warm my face! - - - - "Fifi, I think we've had enough practice now. Let's do that AltBergTal black run - Are you ready to try a black, Sheila? ... Fifi, will lead! Ok/" We both answered affirmatively. The maid had been promoted to ski guide - Wow! recognition at last! The black run was in poor condition, but we were committed to it - turning back involved a steep and difficult climb over worn, icy snow - We had to go on, so I led slowly down the black slope. There were bodies everywhere - not dead bodies, but fallen inanimate bodies. Many previous skiers had sought the edges of the piste for good snow, and this had caused a quality inversion - the best snow was now in the middle of the piste, and it wasn't very good. Fred's persona had returned to command my wives in their descent. Fred was in charge, and safety was demanded. An uncontrolled slide might achieve an out-of-control hundred miles an hour before the overall vertical drop of 500 metres was completed. There were various notable boulders that needed to be avoided all the way down. "Barbara, Sheila, we're going over to rest behind that boulder smack in the middle of the piste right over there!" I pointed with my ski stick. "We'll begin by contouring and then side-slip down to it! Stay close and copy me all the time. Don't let your skis go too fast - tight control at all times!" I coached them from one rest position to the next as we descended slowly under control. I was always scanning to avoid the worst ice, and looking for patches where some sunshine might have softened the ice. When we got to the bottom - and safety, we were all mentally and physically exhausted. My wives hugged me and sobbed in relief, and I looked back up the slope to the exhausted, stranded skiers remaining up the heights of the black piste. I made a note to ensure the ski patrol knew about them. I suspected ropes and pitons would be required to get all of them down. "Thank you, Fred!" Sheila was trembling as she hugged me. "Thank you, darling!" Barbara echoed. They needed to snap out of it. The experience might ruin the rest of the holiday, or even frighten them off skiing for life. "Fred went into the telephone box, and removed his superhero leotard - He has been replaced by your faithful, obedient, mini-skirted maid, Fifi!" I announced softly, and they laughed at the ridiculous statement. "Since when was Fifi such a paragon?" Barbara shouted and began laughing in relief. We all joined in with her infectious laughter. We were all back to normal - or back to what had become normal. - - - - The helicopter took us on its second lift of the day. I was curious about the reason. I knew Barbara had gone mad and charted the helicopter for the whole of Christmas day - so what had it been doing? Sheila shared my curiosity, but Barbara just grinned and said nothing. I was due to be a sled pony girl, and my wives had kitted me out in my cross country pony outfit with ski boots and some furry panties to stop the chastity plate from freezing. I couldn't get comfortable with my stiffened pony tail pushing against the seat, so I leant forward against the safety straps. I was unbound because the pilot had insisted on it, but he couldn't decide about my pony tail, so it remained anchored in my rectum. My head was ready bridled, but without the bit gag - the pilot had vetoed gags inside his aircraft. The helicopter almost landed - it hovered on top of the snow - on a snowy peak far from any recognised ski area, and visibility was nil due to the snow blizzard created by the spinning blades. We followed one another to hop into the deep snow outside and reached for our skis and poles. With a loud clattering of coarse pitched blades, the helicopter ascended and swooped out of sight - we were left alone on our mountain. As the disturbed snow began to settle, I could see a strange out-of- place shape nearby, and Barbara skied eagerly towards it. It was a sleigh - our sleigh! "Come on , Sheila! Come on Fifi!" shouted Barbara, so we joined her at the sleigh. The sleigh was covered in a tarpaulin against the snow, and lifting one corner, Barbara shouted in triumph as she held up my harness. It was very cold stood by the sleigh on top of an Austrian mountain, so they hurried to harness me to the sleigh and apply my bit gag. Barbara succeeded in completely removing the tarpaulin and found two Santa jackets with Santa hoods. Sheila was getting into the spirit as she wrapped herself in the extra warmth. I wasn't left out - Barbara produced a similar jacket for me - except the hood had large plastic antlers. Sheila had found a red clown nose and made sure that it was secure over my nose. They never tired of humiliating me for fun. Sheila was elected to drive first and I watched as she removed her skis and climbed aboard the sleigh. The sleigh was piled high with large sacks ... I groaned as all the details slipped into place. They were having fun on Christmas day - what about Christmas Eve? - We were too late I laughed into the bit gag. The joke was really on them. - - - - Barbara led the way, and after an encouraging tongue click followed by a shake of the reins from Sheila, I followed her. Sheila controlled the handbrake on the sleigh, and initially she declined to release it fully, so Barbara had to stop and wait in the distance for us to catch up. Eventually - as her confidence grew, Sheila released the brake, and I was able enjoy skiing properly with the sleigh arcing behind me and leaving a dramatic furrow in the virgin powdery snow. I was grateful for the furry panties, because that powder was getting everywhere. After a mile or so Barbara and Sheila changed places, and Sheila went ahead with the GPS guiding her. Sheila was a bit too slow for Barbara, so after repeated shakes of my reins, I speeded up the sleigh and we overtook Sheila, who stopped in the snow and shook her fist. Barbara slammed on the sleigh brake, and we ground to a halt, and waited for Sheila to catch up. Barbara got in the first words as Sheila arrived panting in the thinner air. "Sheila, if we don't go faster we will be caught here in the dark. Do you want to swap back again?" she prompted, but Sheila shook her head. "Another mile - then you can take over ..." she agreed and set off without waiting for a reply. Sheila was going faster, but her pace was not as fast as that set by Barbara, I worried about darkness and wind and whiteout, and kept scanning the horizons repeatedly. I felt sure that Barbara had researched our route, and no cliffs, crevasses or rivers would block our way. Soon Sheila swapped places with Barbara, who set a sterling pace, which seemed to worry Sheila a little as I sped to keep up. Eventually the horizon dropped away to begin to reveal the valley where we were heading, and I had to concentrate more as the slope steepened. Sheila 's nervousness was indicated by sporadic applications of the brake - sometimes in very bad places. She realised that she was being counter-productive when she realized the correlation between her breaking, and me nearly falling, Slowly she learned that only braking on straight line running was safe. but I saw Barbara get ever further in front of us - we might lose her! I took my heart in my mouth and went for the fall-line. I knew that full braking from Sheila would only partially slow us as we followed the fall line. To begin with Sheila did not react and then she applied full braking, but my assumptions were correct, and we were catching up with Barbara, I saw Barbara turn her head to look at us, and frown in consternation as we closed the gap going down the steep slope. Barbara was skiing properly and we were going straight down - And there in front of us was an Austrian village. I employed every ounce of skill to turn the sleigh across the slope, and then the brakes told.- and we shuddered to a stop above the village. Sheila dismounted and walked up to me and began punching. "You imbecile, you could have got us killed!" And she began crying. Barbara reached us and pulled Sheila away to comfort her. "We had to get off the mountain before dark, Sheila! Your caution might have been fatal ... Now ... show Fifi, that you still love her!" Sheila nodded and walked back to me and hugged me. "I'm sorry, Fifi, I am just a scaredy cat - I suppose ..." I chinned her shoulder and neighed gently. "Come on team!" shouted Barbara. "They're still waiting for us!" and she set off towards the village. Sheila grabbed her skis from the sleigh and tied my reins to the front rail. "Fifi, you know you don't need a driver." She released the handbrake completely and sped after Barbara, so I heaved against the shafts and followed her, The village roads were all iced so Barbara led us skiing along a side street until she turned into a gateway, Sheila followed without difficulty, but I had to fight the heavily-loaded sleigh to make it turn into the gateway. Why was it heavily loaded? The heavy load combined with the icy surface had nearly beaten me. I stopped pulling when I saw a crowd of children in front of me. Fortunately they separated to each side as the sleigh slid slowly to halt in their midst. A rousing cheering from the children took me by surprise, and then I saw Barbara and Sheila cheering as well as they moved forward to grab my bridle on both sides. The Burgermeister addressed a speech of welcome to my wives, which was in German. Barbara turned to me annoyed and removed my bit gag. "He says you are very welcome, and you have made the children very happy." I translated puzzled. "Tell him 'Thanks' and that this gives me - us enormous pleasure, and that the pleasure felt by the children is felt one thousand fold by we three!" I translated the essence into Germanic idiom, and wondered what was going on. Sheila and Barabara climbed onto the sleigh and started opening the bags, and the children formed two queues waiting for my wives to be ready - boys on the left and girls on the right. I was rather dense up to that point - I blame all the physical exertion and the chill that was gradually creeping into my bones. The streetlights had taken over from the short twilight, but I saw boys and girls happily running back inside the orphanage with their Christmas presents from the two female Santas. When all the sacks were empty, Barbara called for a taxi to take us back to our hotel. The skis and harness were dropped into the sleigh, and it was abandoned ready for later recovery. The taxi heater was efficient and very welcoming when we climbed in. My arms were still imprisoned in the arm baggy, and I asked to be freed from the arm-baggy and from the bridle. Sheila looked at Barbara and Barbara looked at Sheila and they both giggled. With a sudden assault they replaced my bit gag, and burst out laughing. The taxi driver laughed with them. I threw my head back and neighed loudly, and they simply redoubled their laughter. I still had trouble sitting with that tail. - - - - At the end of an exhausting week's holiday, we were flying home first class ... Barbara had joked about letting 'The Maid' travel steerage, but laughingly conceded that 'Even The Maid was part of the three amigos'. "What was the story at the Austrian orphanage, Barbara?" Sheila enquired tentatively. "I could see that ir wasn't a spurious, spur of the moment thing?" I leant forward to hear the answer - I could be as inquisitive as any woman. Barbara looked at both of us and then smiled as she decided to answer. "The GrussGott Orphanage has become part of my Christmas tradition - Normally executed remotely by Advocats in Vienna. The children all write Santa letters, which are delivered to the Advocats, and are combined into a shopping list to fill Santa's sacks with presents. A little man with a red van is normally paid to dress in a Santa suit and drive to the orphanage to deliver the presents ... But this year, I decided to get personally involved - and that meant my two best friends became involved as well. I decided that this year Santa should arrive with his sleigh - instead of the little man with his red van! The little man took umbrage at the change - he was still going to be paid, but he took umbrage, and wouldn't hand over the sacks of presents for ages - and that meant the helicopter flights to the mountain peak were delayed, and then all the programmed helicopter joy rides for the orphans were actually much shorter than planned ... The helicopter had get back to the airport before dark. That's what happened! ... And Santa nearly didn't make it in time!" Barbara concluded with tight smile. "So how come you have a tradition with an Austrian orphanage, Barbara?" Sheila asked and my neck stretched with curiosity. "Oh, the GrussGott Orphanage association started in my father's time. His best friend had been an orphan there. My father took over sponsorship, when his friend died. He took me there on a couple of occasions, and I liked what I saw - You see - despite having living parents, I was brought up almost as an orphan myself," Barbara's eyes glazed, and her two friends grabbed her hands tightly in support. "And you've sponsored the Orphanage since forever!" Sheila guessed aloud. Barbara smiled at her in silent reply. - - - - 34. Slapped Wrists Kevin Oakwood was waiting sat relaxed in my office when we arrived at work. I sent for coffee for us all, and silently assessed him as we waited for the coffee. Nobody spoke - Kevin fiddled idly with a pencil on my desk, and ignored us until we began sipping our coffee. "Nice Holiday?" he enquired without expecting an answer. "Snow's a bit dodgy in Austria at the moment!" he continued, and we waited silently for him to get to the point. "I am inclined to think it was mere thoughtlessness-combined-with- carelessness on your part ... and I am possibly speaking from pique, when I respectfully submit that you inform me in advance when you want to shoot off on an excursion ... I became over-confident when we successfully shadowed you all to Scotland, but your jaunt in the Austrian helicopter left my whole organization flat-footed ... Very embarrassing - But another learning experience! ... I didn't get the full story until you were flying back home. It's obvious with hindsight that you would all ditch your phones for Austrian pay-as-you-go cell-phones during your holiday - That simultaneously lost us all automatic tracking and monitoring of all of you - Luckily, our man at the airport - remember the porter - heard the hotel address you gave in the taxi. Without eavesdropping on any of your phones we missed your arrangements for the helicopter, and you all suddenly went completely off-grid! ... Please ... Pass a brief message to that emergency number I gave you before you do anything like that again!" he sighed, and shone mock- pleading eyes at each of us in turn. I was thoroughly embarrassed. "You ... you followed us in Scotland?" I asked tentatively, and he grinned at me. "Yes, I was personally part of the team ... By the way - congratulations on winning two prizes, Frances .... And thanks for rescuing the drowning pony girl - my man was about to break cover, when you beat him to it. Please, ring that number in future ...!" he finished as he rose and left. - - - - 35. Reorganisation. Paul was having a hard time. We were sat at a board meeting taking updates on project Phoenix, and Paul was explaining his difficulties. "All the technicalities are in hand, and interim and module testing seems to be going well, but ... there are increasing difficulties with our suppliers, that always seem to require my personal intervention in person. I have tried sendin my deputies and assistants - they are all competent and authorative managers, but they lack the clout of a board member kicking ass in the supplier main office. I was hoping that I might persuade one or more of you to intercede and free me for overseeing on-site integration?" I looked at my wives and then spoke. "For myself, I have seen my workload decrease dramatically as integration has progressed. I shall certainly be available to interface with our suppliers. Are either of you two ladies available?" I asked, and received head shakes. "That's settled then, Paul. After this meeting you can brief me on your most urgent problem, and then leave it to me". I realised that I had effectively volunteered to be Paul's assistant, but this was for the good of the company, and that was what mattered. Sunshine Optical Electronics were our supplier of communication opto- isolators, and optic fibres links. We had selected them because they were the best. All our hardware was optimised for using their latest cutting-edge products. The supply chain from Sunshine was on Phoenix's critical path ... Delays in delivery would sabotage our installation program. I walked up the steps to the tall swing doors before the large glassed- in foyer - creful to avoid my heels getting trapped in the rainwater grille at the entrance - Why do architects always put traps for stiletto heels outside office doors? I walked up to the receptionist, and gave her my card and asked to see the managing director. She examined at her screen, and looked puzzled. "I am sorry, Miss Cardew, I cannot find your appointment!" she apologised. "I have not made an appointment!" I answered calmly. "I have come here to kick his ass, and an appointment would have given him a warning!" The receptionist looked startled and shocked, but she lifted her handset, and spoke inaudible to somebody. There was a succession of minions sent to talk to me reasonably, and I rebuffed them all, until I became impatient. "You!" I pointed at the most senior minion. "Take me to his office now!" I insisted, but he failed to move - his mouth full of excuses. I knew the way myself but had no pass card for the security doors. I went to the first security door and proceeded to hammer on it and kick it repeatedly. The minion's resolve collapsed as he rushed to let me through the door. This was repeated all the way to the managing directors office. His secretary was the last line of defence. "I am sorry, Mr Norris isn't in today," she apologised and tried to show me out. "You don't mind if I check for myself! Do you?" I brushed past her and strode into Norris's private office. "Good morning Mr Norris, your secretary didn't see you come in ... I'm glad I checked. This visit is about explaining the difficulties you're having in making your contracted deliveries ..." Norris looked very uncomfortable. His secretary had lied, and the terms of our contract were being ignored. I plonked into the plush visitor's chair and waited for him to answer. His flush from business guilt was replaced by a new flush as his eyes devoured my slutty form sprawled in the leather chair. I hit him hard. "I know that you are running at full capacity, but you are still redirecting my contracted order to other customers ... This is totally unacceptable! We don't want to sue, but if we are going to get burned ... then you will get incinerated!" I threatened. He caved in and told me about his company's success at exhibitions and conferences. It was a good product line, and everybody was desperate to buy. His salesmen had made promises that his factory couldn't keep. He was dispatching product according to a rationing scheme, and we were suffering as a result. I rang Paul and asked for some figures, and then passed my phone to Norris. Paul and Norris had a discussion, and passed the phone back to me. "Norris has promised two thousand at our front door by Tuesday evening - that will get us out of a hole for a week. He can't make any more promises yet ..." I ended the phone conversation. "Two thousand by Tuesday evening?" I repeated to him, and he accepted my handshake, so I turned to leave. I was thoughtful as I drove home - I was pleased that I had at last mastered the pedals with my ballet heels. - - - - "Barbara, do you have any financial interests in semiconductor fabs?" I asked when I returned to the office . She sighed at my interruption, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll give you my password, and you can look for yourself!" she returned to her work. I spent the next two hours scanning Barbara's portfolio, before I found what I wanted. It was a semiconductor fab in Luxemburg, or rather - it had been - until it went bust and was sold off by an official receiver. I had the name of a reliable technical contact in Luxemburg, and explained what I wanted. I interrupted Barbara again and she arranged the necessary permissions and escorts for an inspection. I got out pen and paper, and started roughing out and clarifying my ideas. Our man in Luxemburg was quick - maybe he was free and nearby when I contacted him. His brief email report had a large attachment consisting of a series of photographs, which I scanned hungrily. I was no expert, but they looked 'GO' to me. "Hello, Mr Norris, Frances here. I might have a proposition for you ..." I began. "Look, Frances two thousand is the very, very best I can offer. I can't let you have anymore for a while!" he insisted. "This is about a possible work-around," I told him, and he then seemed interested. "You said that all your plant and machines are running 24 hours per day with three shifts?" I began, and he interrupted again. "Yes, and there's no improvement in output possible by juggling or fiddling with the shift pattern!" he sighed. "Would any of your employees consider working overtime?" I asked tentatively, and he answered impatiently. "Twenty four hours per day does not leave much space for overtime!" he shouted into his phone. "That's with your existing plant and machines ..." I soothed. "Well ... What plant and machines do you think we should use instead?" he shouted. "I was thinking about adding LuxSemFab plant and machines to your resources." I suggested, and he went quiet for a while. "LuxSemFab went bust three months back, the company is just a ghost ..." he mused. "The Fab is still there and it looks like most of the kit is untouched ... I'll send you the photos." I pressed send, and waited. After an hour, Norris rang me back. "Just what is your angle here, Frances? Why are you sending me photos of LuxSemFab? You're a Software and Systems Consultancy moving into hardware ... How does all this fit together?" Norris was suspicious, and cautious. "Well, Mr Norris, two thousand is just enough to get us out of a hole now, but I suspect the problem of insufficient capacity won't go away on its own... I want the problem to go away, so you need more capacity ... So, I might have contacts who can help! ... Have you and your team examined the photos? Could the facilities at LuxSemFab provide expansion to your capacity?" I enquired reasonably. "Probably with some additions and alterations, but there's nobody there - a fab needs skilled staff to manufacture products - Oh, the overtime - yes, spread our staff over both fabs with twelve hour shifts - It could work! ... Just what do expect to get out of this, Frances?" "Priority deliveries to meet our full requirements, and your goodwill, Mr Norris," I answered smoothly. "And how would you enable all this?" "I will arrange a contract for you to lease LuxSemFab ... As a bonus, my contact reports that many of the previous employees have not found further employment, and might be recruited," I sugared the offer. Barbara was now listening intently to my side of the conversation. She nudged my elbow, and pointed to the phone. "Please, hold for my colleague, Mr Norris!" I handed the phone to Barbara. Mr Norris, this is Barbara Bingley. This opportunity has just come right for us both. A relative of mine has been given the task of disposing of the assets of LuxSemFab, and you might just have a requirement for LuxSemFab unbroken? If we can agree an introduction fee for myself, I can ease the deal through to suit all parties. The markets have you tagged as cash-poor, so I know you lack capital. If you like what you see, you can buy the lot after one year otherwise pay for one year's lease at the end. This is a good deal for you, Mr Norris." Barbara listened for a bit, and then handed me the phone. "Is that hustler for real, Frances? ... Or is she just trying to scam me somehow?" "Barbara is for real, Mr Norris. If you go for the deal, you'll find the contract solid and unbreakable!" "I'll need to think and discuss this, Frances. Goodbye!" And then the phone was dead. "Barbara you don't need the money - Why ask for a fee?" "Without a fee - a little lubrication needed for the deal, Norris would never believe it. I take it, Miss Frances, that you would like me to organise a contract for taking control of LuxSemFab?" she asked pertly. "Yes, Miss Barbara, I would. So move your fat ass!" I laughed and slapped her bum. She yelped and grinned at me. "I always said you were a bully!" she accused. "And my ass is not fat!" Then we laughed together.