The ExWife Adventure 39-43 free porn video

The Ex-Wife Adventure 39-43 ------------------------------ by Amelie Fortescue copyright c2020 Amelie Fortescue. 39. Hospital It was all Barbara's fault - well - perhaps it was really just an accident. Barbara had decided that she was sufficiently skilled to drive the sulky around the Jackdaw training track with a blinded pony girl. It had worked fine for several training sessions, which were driven at ever-increasing speed - and then Barbara sneezed during a steep, fast descent. I responded immediately to the jerk on my rein and leapt over the edge of the track into a the high branches of a waiting conifer. Bound in my harness, I could do nothing to save myself, and the sulky followed me off the track, and dragged me down the tree - hitting every branch on the way down to the ground. The closed leather blinkers saved my eyes, but I was scratched and bruised all over, and landed smashing the sulky still attached to my harness. I just felt sorry for myself, and lay still moaning softly through my bit gag. Barbara had been pitched out of the sulky as it left the track, and she had just a short climb to regain the track where she phoned Sheila for help. The phone had been fitted with a GPS tracker so Sheila knew where to bring the Landrover, and a very flustered Sheila quickly helped a confused Barbara into the passenger seat. "Fifi must be punished. She's unseated you and run off again - she knows that's not allowed!" "No, Sheila, that's not it at all!" Barbara insisted as her senses returned. "I think I've killed her!" "Don't be silly, Barbara! I feel like killing her sometimes, but neither of us means it! Were you going up or down? - we'll soon catch her and give her a good hiding!" "You don't understand, Sheila! Fifi leapt over the cliff!" Barbara broke down and cried. "Don't be silly Barbara! Why would Fifi leap over the cliff? Fifi isn't stupid - is she?" "She's down there!" Barbara sighed tearfully. "It was an accident - really it was!" Sheila was beginning to believe Barbara, and left the Landrover with her heart in her boots to look over the edge, and peer into the gloomy depths below. Initially dismissive she saw a pole sticking out of a pile of broken branches, and then saw part of a bicycle wheel. She shuddered as she finally realised what she was observing. She ran back to the Landrover, and shook Barbara by the shoulders. "Barbara, we need to get help for Fifi! You have to telephone the gamekeeper, and organise a rescue ..." "But Fifi is already dead, and I killed her!" Barbara burst into tears again. "You don't know that!" Sheila shook her by the shoulders again. "She might be alive - waiting for us to rescue her!" Sheila insisted trying to convince herself that such a fall was survivable. Barbara was spurred by Sheila's hope, and pulled herself together. With a determined glance, she started making calls. - - - - I woke up in hospital - or more accurately - I woke up in a clinic. I had lost a lot of blood. Multiple puncture wounds from branches and the broken cart. I was laid out flat on a bed. My arms were free, except for a canular dripping fluid into a vein from an elevated squishy bottle. My harness was all gone, and my bridle and bit gag had been taken away. People were fiddling with my corset and my hoof boots. A man appeared with some serious-looking shears, and I quickly deduced what he had in mind. "You must not damage the boots or corset!" I insisted in a weak voice. "They each cost a king's ransom - Barbara has the keys to remove them!" I immediately fell asleep again exhausted. "Brief alert consciousness is a good sign!" one doctor told his colleague. - - - - The next time I awoke, I was in a private ward - naked under crisp white sheets. Naked except for bandages, dressings and creams - and the inevitable drip stand beside my bed. Even my chastity cage had been removed - Gingerly I checked my equipment for damage, but all seemed well. My false breasts had gone, and the nipple rings and ear rings - even the solid slave collar had been removed. I felt hungry and thirsty, and looked around for the 'call' button. A doctor came instead of a nurse. He ignored my requests for food and drink, and opened the door again to call to someone. Sheila and Barbara came into my room. Their eyes glistened with unshed tears. They were dressed sedately and sombrely in black. "Were you going to a funeral?" I gasped weakly, and they both burst into tears - whereupon the doctor quickly ushered them both out. "You'll upset my patient!" he admonished them, as he closed the door behind them. "Nil by Mouth!" the doctor said as he turned back to me. "No food and no drink until you have settled down. "Except for where you were protected by leather, you have more puncture wounds than a pin cushion. Most of them are minor and shallow, but some may be deep and dangerous and require surgery - so no food - no drink. You're lucky to have escaped without major trauma from your fall - not even a broken bone. "You'll see me again on my next rounds." He left closing the door behind him. The door burst open and my wives entered fighting a rearguard action against the duty nurse, who was insisting that they should leave immediately. With a wife on both sides of my bed I was quickly covered in gentle pecking kisses. I grinned, and that hurt as my skin was stretched around the dressings on my face. "I am pleased to see that somebody cares," I whispered as I vainly tried to pull the bed sheet up again. They stopped kissing me and stood silently with tears dripping down. "Thank you for rescuing me," I whispered. "We nearly didn't!" Barbara admitted. "I thought you were dead. I was going to wait for the police to sort you out. You know - taking photos, and measuring everything." "Well I'm glad you did rescue me! Put your cheeks to my lips so that I can kiss you for it!" One by one they complied, and their tears of guilt and regret were replaced by tears of happiness. - - - - They kept me under observation for two days - expecting infections to erupt at the limit of penetration of one or more branch wounds, but I was clear of infection - the careful irrigation of all my wounds at admittance had done the trick. My doctor said he was going to hand me over to his colleague for continued treatment. I tried to demur and wanted to go home, but he insisted that I should stay. He gave me an injection and strapped my wrists and ankles to the bed. I felt dizzy, and struggled weakly. "Your new doctor needs to intensely examine your wounds. The injection was a cocktail of sedative and muscle relaxant. The examinations will hurt, but you need to be conscious during the examination. I'll tell her you're ready ..." The door opened and a lady doctor and a nurse came and stood at my bedside. My heart nearly stopped - Corinda and Georgina were staring down at me. Georgina waved her fingers at me and grinned her hello, and I tuned my gaze on Corinda. "Hello, Fifi, we meet again!" She grinned at me before she donned her surgical mask. I struggled against my bonds, "Hi, Corinda, what's all this about? What are you doing here?" "I am your surgeon, Fifi, and I'm going to operate on you," she answered calmly. Georgina had donned her own mask and she removed a dressing from my chest to allow Corinda to probe the large wound near my sternum. It hurt and I wriggled and begged her to stop. "I will remove tissue from the abdomen, and add tissue to the thorax!" she commented. "Corinda is the best surgeon in this clinic, Fifi. She specializes in gender reassignment - you're in the best of hands!" I was thoroughly alarmed, and getting over-excited. I fainted as Corinda impatiently asked an anaesthetist to knock me right out ready for surgery. "Oh, god!" I thought as consciousness waned. "Corinda hates men ... Fifi as an honorary girl isn't enough for her, she's going to make me into a fully transgendered girl ... How could this happen? ... Did my wives betray me to her? ..." - - - - I awoke slowly, and let recent events replay in my memory. I sighed. "Perhaps dying under the knife would have been for the best?" I decided. I could move my head but my wrists and ankles were restrained at the sides of the hospital bed. My chest had a huge tented construction over it - holding the bed sheet away from me. I cried, and sobbed, and then as the emotion faded into an emptiness, I realised that I was thirsty and very hungry. I decided I would refuse to eat, and simply starve to death. My ego had been crushed. The two women who I loved had betrayed me, and my so- called friend had remade my body to suit her tastes. I was ready to drown in a sea of tears of self-pity. - - - - Sheila and Barbara joyfully burst through the door into my private ward, and I turned away from them - shunning them, and saying nothing. They split up to come to me on both sides of the bed, so despite my bondage, I twisted both neck and shoulders to try to bury my face in the pillow. "Are you hurting terribly, darling?" Sheila enquired concerned, but Barbara had opened the door to shout. "Corinda, Fifi is in terrible pain - What can you do?" Corinda was soon standing by my side, feeling my pulse, and testing my forehead for fever. "Fifi, look at me! Tell me where it hurts!" I turned to face them all for the first time. "My heart hurts! My heart is broken! Leave me! Please, leave me!" I turned back into the pillow, and tried to suck it into my mouth - Suffocation seemed possible until Corinda forcibly removed the pillow and threw it across the room. "I am afraid that Fifi, has become deranged - She will need psychiatric help!" Corinda announced with a sad voice. That was a mothering signal to my wives, who moved in tearfully to kiss me repeatedly. "Don't disturb the dressing on her chest!" Corinda commanded as various arms tried to cuddle me. "Yes! Please DO disturb the dressing on my chest, and rip away the abominations hidden there!" I shouted earnestly. "But Corinda has made an excellent job of repairing your chest, Fifi. There is no need to redo the work!" "What was wrong with my chest as it was before? Why has it been changed?" "Your chest had a bloody great hole in it, Fifi - Corinda has mended the hole!" Barbara shouted back at me, and I was stunned into silence. My thoughts were in turmoil. I turned to face Corinda. "Corinda have you simply mended a hole in my chest?" "Not simply, Fifi! ... It was quite a complex and intricate procedure with three hours in surgery. However, I consider the result to be some of my best work." "You haven't sewn implanted breasts onto my chest?" "Of course not, Fifi! - There was no instruction to do so - If you want implants, you will have to wait for the chest wound to heal first!" "... So all my man bits are still with me ...!" I enquired tentatively. Sheila whipped the sheet completely away from the bed. "Phew!" she said. "You had me worried there, Fifi. Yes they're still there - but looking very sad just now." I grinned happily at Corinda. "Thank you, Corinda, for mending my chest, and thank you for not changing me into a woman ... I have harboured unforgivable thoughts about all of you. "Please, forgive me, all of you!" - - - - I was feeling much better the next day until Barbara and Sheila visited and insisted on replacing my cage, my collar, and all my rings. "But, darlings, couldn't you at least wait until I get home?" I wailed. "No, Fifi! If we wait too long the ring holes will get too small - you need to wear them to keep the holes open ..." Barbara lectured me. "But that cannot apply to the cage!" I protested. "The cage gives us both a feeling of security, while you're being looked after by pretty nurses!" Sheila snarled and then grinned at me. "Corinda will take a few more days to close all your lesser wounds. "She is a red-hot plastic surgeon, who excels at micro-detail work. "She promises 99 per cent probability of no visible or physical scars from any of your wounds, so your face and head will look as good as new! "Her 'pharma' company is always developing new drugs to assist natural healing. "Your larger wounds have been treated by a patent hormone-pheromone-stem concoction that promotes new blood capillaries - its exciting stuff in the medical sphere - she'll soon be worth millions!" Barbara lectured me. "At least my tongue is saved ..." I mumbled a grumble completely out of context. "What was that, darling?" Sheila enquired leaning her ear towards my mouth. "I was just saying that I hope Barbara had invested in Corinda's company ..." I lied. "Yes, Fifi, I have large interests in that 'pharma' company, and thank you for reminding me about your tongue!" Barbara then waved a tongue stud before my eyes hypnotically. "Be a good girl and stick your tongue out, please!" Barbara looked at me down her nose with a stern expression, and feeling guilty for my earlier unjustified, false accusations, I complied without protest. The hole was too awkward, and my tongue was too slippery. All attempts failed until Georgina was found, and brought an artery clamp to hold my tongue. "Ullo, youryeena!" I greeted her. "See ow cwuel zay are tumee!" "You can keep the rings, Fifi, but the tongue stud has to come out before Corinda operates tomorrow - It counts as an unnecessary obstruction to your airways," Georgina warned, and so I smiled my thanks, and Georgina pecked my cheek. "Ah lees zumun wans tuh kiss mi! Mi wives jus wan tuh tortuh mi!" I accused them. They immediately leant down to kiss me enthusiastically. - - - - Corinda arranged for us all to meet around my bed - and I immediately feared for the worst. I just knew that I was going to die, and they would be gathering to comfort me. I didn't want to die! I admit that I had wanted to die, but now I didn't - Cruel fate was rising to mock me ... My spirits fell into a silent despair. Corinda and Georgina entered my room to join we three waiting. Georgina hurried across to peck my cheek - that confirmed it - I had to prepare for bad news. "Ladies," Corinda began, "- that includes honorary ladies!" Corinda smiled at me, and I shuddered at her attempt to butter me up. "I have a proposal - a request really! I seek your agreement to fudge or bend the rules slightly. I have been licensed to use my experimental techniques on open wounds and trauma to help save patient lives ... But I have not been licensed to use these procedures for remedial surgical work. I desperately want to obtain results for 'Remedial Scar Tissue Substitution' or RSTS for short. It can offer great benefit to hundreds - no thousands of people. Burns victims are the most obvious - but not forgetting the funding income streams from minor scar and cosmetic procedures. To this end ... I believe that Fifi is a suitable subject." Everybody looked at me and I cringed - tugging at my hospital restraints. Corinda smiled her sweetest smile at me, but it seemed like the grin on the face of a cobra - about to strike. I shrank back as far as I could. "Fifi has at some time been given a set of tiger stripes ..." Corinda began again, but was interrupted by Sheila. "What do you mean by 'Tiger Stripes'?" "I mean that someone has whipped her hard enough to break the skin ,and cause flush scarring in parallel lines - Named 'Tiger Stripes' either because they look like the stripes on a tiger's coat ... or because they look like the claw marks left by a tiger. Someone is using too harsh a whip - I will need to consult with the perpetrator." Barbara was wilting. "It was me, Corinda! I felt guilty afterwards, and I feel guilty now." "I want to encourage you to whip your sub, Barbara - but not destroy her! Georgina will give you one of my whips ... It feels and sounds just like a skin-ripper, but however hard you whip, and however much pain it causes, it will not break the skin! Let's leave this tangent - I see that Fifi is looking uncomfortable. Anyway Fifi's tiger stripes fit the bill as established scars ... but uniquely her tiger stripes are peppered with punctures from her accident. Strictly speaking, I should only treat the punctures, but with a little fudging, I can treat every affected tiger stripe. I need the permission - unofficially by nod - of Fifi's owners, and of Fifi herself?" I was exultant. Just procedures to remove old scars - not imminent death at all! I nodded enthusiastically, and grinning at me - my wives nodded their agreement. Corinda abandoned her professional sang-froid, to kiss everybody and grin in relief. She paused after kissing my cheek, and kissed me full on the lips. "Fifi, I love you as much as if you were a real girl!" Corinda blushed and turned her face away as she recovered her professional poise. "My treatment for old scars is nominally non-intrusive - non-surgical! It consists of multiple injections of a carefully formulated concoction into and around the old scar ..." Corinda was interrupted by my scream and sudden struggling . She looked puzzled until Sheila explained. "Fifi, simply hates injections - Needles are the stuff of nightmares!" Everybody laughed at my childish phobia. "Fifi, as a thank you, I will give you a general anaesthetic beforehand - you'll never feel a single needle prick you! Fifi lets you whip the skin off her back - and yet she's frightened of needles?" Corinda mused at Barbara. "Well ... Fifi wasn't exactly agreeing to let me whip her ..." Barbara confessed. Corinda laughed, and slapped her on her back. "With the whip I am giving you, you can let yourself go, and still be sure that you'll not rip her - Of course, you have to make sure all her jewellery is removed, and her delicates are protected! I confess that as sadists go, I am a real softie. I simply love whipping Georgina, and she loves being whipped, but I hate leaving any hurts lasting much beyond the punishment session." "Never mind that!" Sheila interrupted the sadist mutual-admiration society. "What exactly are you going to inject with this experimental treatment?" "Do you want the full technical description or the vernacular version.?" Corinda was feeling defensive. "The vernacular, of course, Corinda ... The medical description would quickly leave me floundering! Don't take umbrage! Someone has to look out for Fifi!" "I'm sorry, Sheila! Of course you need to understand what I am trying to do ... "When a section of skin is removed for any reason, the body's response is to fill the hole or gap with scar tissue. "A scar is simply a patch - a second-best tissue to plug the hole against infection and loss of fluid. "Now ... human skin is the largest organ of the human body, and apart from acting as a flexible bag to hold all the other organs, bones and muscles, it has specific functions that it must perform to permit and ease life. "But as a plastic surgeon, my interest is in maintaining the flexibility of the bag, and scar tissue is not skin, and it is not flexible enough to replace skin. "Thus ... my aim is to replace missing skin and scar tissue with new skin! "Now just laying real skin removed from elsewhere is fraught with the risk that it will 'not-take' in its new position, and the transplant will shrivel and die. "The usual reason for these failures is poor or non-existent blood supply to the new skin. This is because any blood capillaries in the graft are cut off from the circulation - only stagnant blood is available - so pouf - a waste of skin! "My treatment places no reliance on transplanted skin. Using stem cells, and a 'magic' mix of hormones, nutrients and inter-cell messaging chemicals, I cause new skin cells to grow around the edges of the hole. "But ... you ask ... Will these new cells not also die from lack of blood supply! "The answer is 'NO, THEY WON'T', because I also added the magic ingredient that causes new blood capillaries to grow into the new skin. "The new skin really is skin ... Research is incomplete regarding hair follicles and sweat glands etc, but in essence the skin is as good as new! "Certainly from the flexible-bag aspect it is!" Corinda paused for breath. "Where did you find the magic ingredient that generates new capillaries?" Barbara wanted to know, and Corinda hunched into her counterspy pose. "If you tell anybody outside this room, I'll have to kill you!" she whispered in a stage whisper, and then grinned. "It's a commercial secret, so don't tell anybody!" We all nodded - delighted at the intrigue. "You may already know that large cancerous tumours organise their own blood supply by causing blood vessels to grow towards and into the tumour? "Well they do! ... And we have discovered the messenger chemicals that switch on the demand for increased blood supply that cancers use. We think that the cancer cells produce an SOS chemical message as they begin to suffocate in the tumour as the tumour increases in size around them, and that is what we have isolated. "Grafted skin cells also produce this chemical message, but they normally die before the cavalry arrives. "It's a race between the cells dying and the blood vessels developing. We boost the concentration of this chemical SOS message, and the cavalry arrives in time!" "Zo uh av tuh bi givn cansa?" I enquired worriedly. "No, Fifi! Nobody wants you to get cancer!" Corinda assured me, "We harvest the messenger chemical after we kill all the cancer cells. The results in pigs are very encouraging - though it is still early days!" "Wot if uh get cansa?" I queried tremulously. "Then we excise it, and revert to standard plastic surgery remedies!" Corinda was tight-lipped. I was no longer her favourite patient. "Zat minz uh lot uv hexuhsizin, if ol mi wunz geh cansuh!" I protested. "Excise - not exercise, Fifi. I promise you, Fifi, if any of your wounds ever get cancerous ..." Corinda burst into tears. "Uh, corinduh, can I av won uv zuh pigz az uh pet - tuh wotchit?" I asked. Corinda laughed her tears stopped. "Of course you can, Fifi! Then you can make sure that it stays cancer- free! ... I really do need you to have that tongue stud removed before I operate" - - - - 40. The Locus Quo "Please, mistresses, give me another half hour with Rasher ... She hasn't settled in just yet, and she's still upset!" My pet pig had arrived from the laboratory. She bore number 353 tattooed onto the sides of her snout, but after Georgina had explained the tattooed rectangles on various parts of her body as the test areas, I decided Rasher should be her name. Rasher was a young and energetic pig, and I hoped the paddock I had created for her would meet with her approval. Her pigsty was elevated on short stilts, and had a dog-flap to prevent strong draughts, and I had plumbed her own radiator into the house central heating to keep her comfortable in the approaching winter. But I could tell Rasher was still nervous. She hadn't displayed any nerves when she ate her welcome meal, but now she decided that my lap was the only safe place to be. Her little piggy trotters were really too sharp for comfort, so I eventually decided Rasher needed slippers. "Come on NOW!" Barbara commanded, so I pushed Rasher into her little house, and left her. Rasher's head poked out of the dog-flap, and she squealed in protest and anxiety as I scampered towards the horsebox. Barbara quickly bound my arms in the leather pouch, and inserted the bit gag, before tying my bridle to the breast bar at the front of the horsebox. We were going to Jackdaw Wood. Sheila and Barbara had decided that the first thing to do after falling off a cliff was to climb back on it. I had a new sulky resting beside me in the horsebox - the last one was completely wrecked. - - - - I was nervous as we approached the place where I had fallen. This time my blinkers were wide open, and my reins were held loose - letting me pick my own way at my own speed. With both wives in the sulky, the steep downhill slope demanded my concentration to keep my footing. As I reached the spot, I was reined to a stop, and my passengers dismounted to make an inspection. "Barbara, what's all this netting? - It wasn't here before!" asked Sheila. "Just a way of 'Closing the Stable Door', Sheila. It's exactly the same thing they use alongside downhill ski slopes. It's a continuous catcher net running all the way along the edge of the cliff," she answered. "Look just past the big tree. I can see right down into the old quarry - I can see a large pond with ducks. It's a long way down!" Sheila commented. "Yes, come here, Fifi! You must look as well! ... This track hugs this wall of the quarry as far as the corner and then after it turns the corner, it finally reaches the bottom. If you look carefully over there ... you can see where the other track rises out of the quarry, and uses the other two sides to climb right out," Barbara finished. "Even now I can't see where Fifi landed - It's so dark down there!" Sheila complained. "Did the wreckage get taken away?" "Ok, Fifi can you turn around on your own. We are going back the same way we came. Sorry, Sheila, we ought to walk back with Fifi. If her wounds open up from excessive exercise, Corinda will skin us." - - - - Rasher really was my pet, and she knew it. She knew when I was in the kitchen making breakfast, and then she butted - drumming on the side of her sty until I let her into the kitchen - where she followed me around like a dog. She learned to wait patiently in the kitchen while I served my mistresses their breakfast in bed, and then galloped and cavorted as I prepared her own breakfast. She knew I would not feed her in the kitchen - Pigs are messy eaters - otherwise clean and house-trainable - given the chance. Rasher would wait excitedly by the kitchen door to lead me into her paddock, where her meal would be given to her. I always stroked her as she ate. She enjoyed the stroking, but I was really probing the test areas on her skin. After two weeks, I believed Rasher was lonely for her own kind, and gave her to a nearby petting farm - in return for intimate visiting rights - I still needed to stroke her. - - - - Corinda phoned us after one of the periodic consultations. "I am sorry, Fifi ... It seems the old scar tissue is being obstinate. I have examined your latest scans and the scar tissue is not retreating as quickly as it should ... Of course, it's in the job description for scar tissue to be obstinate - but it's acting as a real nuisance. What's happening is the new skin grows up to the scar then forms a ridge and stops." "Does that mean that your scar treatment is a failure?" Sheila asked quietly. A slight note of annoyance crept into Corinda's reply. "Not necessarily!" she asserted. "Skin and skin scar tissue have lots of behavioural characteristics in common when it comes to growth and regrowth. They each attempt to grow across a substrate into unoccupied areas until full coverage is achieved. Each cell stops generating tissue, when it is surrounded by cells identical to itself - so new tissue fills any gap and then stops. A chemical message is released by every skin cell, which is used to inhibit cell multiplication - If a cell is next to a gap or hole, the concentration of the inhibitor is too low to prevent cell division, but any cell completely surrounded is inhibited. The skin cells react to the scar tissue inhibitor as if the scar is skin cells, and stop at the scar." She paused, and Barbara took the opportunity to speak. "But it's not hopeless - You have ideas how to beat it?" "Yes, Barbara, I have! "It's not just a case of making sure that the skin cells grow faster than the scar tissue, but we need the existing scar tissue to retreat when the skin reaches it! "We know that scars can shrink naturally over time and be replaced by skin, but this natural process is very slow, and research is continuing into the discovering the exact mechanism - with a view to expediting the process." Corinda stopped to reflect. "So not much hope for the immediate future then?" Sheila enquired. "Well, I don't know ... Fifi's scars now have a viable blood supply, and that can only help. I believe that it is the provision of a good localized circulation that is an important element in encouraging skin cells to take over from scar tissue. We'll begin to learn more over the coming weeks - providing Fifi keeps all her appointments!" - - - - 41. Picnic for Two Sheila had rushed off - barely having time to say goodbye. Her brother-in-law was working abroad, and her sister needed her to babysit her nieces for a few days. Sheila had been missing her nieces - hadn't seen them since before Christmas - so she desperately wanted to be off to them. I could see her glowing as she waved to us as she sped away scattering gravel in our direction. "Sheila has gone all broody, Barbara. I suspect she will decide to come off the pill ..." "Funny you should say that, Frances ... I have stopped taking it as well ...!" I stared at her with wide eyes. "Sheila and I are both genetic women, Frances, and it's built into our genes to desire to mother children ... That desire is blossoming towards actuality. I hope that you are pleased with the prospect?" she enquired - cocking her head at me. I was surprised. I hadn't really thought about it. "I hope that my apparatus is still functional - after all my body's tribulations?" "Don't worry, Frances my dear, the human body is resilient - and your body in particular has to be resilient! ... Talking of which - 'Playtime, Fifi'!" "But, miss Barbara, you're not supposed to play with me without miss Sheila!" I protested weakly. "Don't worry, my little fawn! I don't plan to punish you until she returns. I want you to prepare a picnic for two, and then I'll drive my little pony to the far end of the lawn, and we can sit together and eat the picnic." "But, mistress, I can't sit properly wearing the corset!" I complained. "I'll have the key, and I'll loosen your corset when we get there ... Don't be awkward, Fifi! Let's have an enjoyable picnic together!" - - - - It was nice in the sunshine - me sitting on the grass and Barbara sitting on a blanket. The sulky was beside me loaded with the open picnic basket. My arms were free but my wrists sported separate, locked-on, leather wrist bands with bells and anchor rings. I munched contentedly and turned to regard Barbara. Barbara had tears in her eyes, so I shuffled across with wrist bells ringing and cuddled her. "Barbara, darling, what is the matter?" I enquired gently. "Oh, Fifi, I am a bad person - really I am. "That's twice that I've tried to kill you - and yet you truly are so very precious to me!" She burst into tears. I cuddled her and with my wrist bells tinkling I kissed the top of her head until she responded by raising her drooping head to kiss me on the mouth. Despite her tears, we had an energetic snogging session. "Can you forgive me, Fifi? I am so very afraid that 'Third Time Lucky' I will succeed in killing you!" "Barbara, Even if you did kill me, I would still count myself lucky for having known you! "However short - let us enjoy our lives together - and with Sheila - of course!" "Yes, and Sheila makes three! I love her almost as much as I love my Fifi!" "Mistress Barbara - Are you trying to make me jealous?" I enquired with mock severity. "I can do whatever I want with my slave!" she shouted, and punctuated it by a sharp slap on my buttock, and then grinned as she wrestled me onto the ground, and started another snogging session. As we drew apart - tired from our snogging - I pulled my short skirt hem down to modestly cover most of my suspender straps. "Don't bother!" Barbara suggested. "I want to unlock your cage." "Break!" I stopped her. "Barbara, Sheila must help decide! It will be a betrayal to blindside her! I want to - Of course I do! But this has to be done fairly! - Not when Sheila is away!" Barbara's ardour was dampened, and all the excitement evaporated. I packed up the picnic, and presented myself for harnessing. I was trotting gently back to the house when Barbara's phone rang. It was Paul, and Barbara reined me to a stop, then dismounted and held the phone to my ear. "Hi, Paul!" I managed after Barbara freed my bit gag. "Huh, Francess, we've got an unforeseen problem in London - I think you need to see it for yourself - Its the main trunk - It's just not big enough - Can you come straight away - Everybody's running in circles here - we need you to sort things out!" "Calm down, Paul! Barbara will drive me all the way - Won't you, Barbara?" She nodded, and ended the call. "It's always a pig - parking anywhere near the site - I'll have to drop you and then find a space!" she grumbled light-heartedly. - - - - Barbara helped me change quickly from Fifi the pony girl into Frances the slutty, bossy bitch, and we were off to London. I tried to contact Paul for more details, but his phone was always busy. I had to restrain my impatience throughout the entire journey, and eventually arrived at the bank. I had no ID with me - I had even forgotten my purse - just the clothes that I stood in! The security guard was neither amused nor cooperative, when I quickly explained my mission. I had to threaten his job, his welfare, and his continued good health before he would send for someone, who could vouch for me. - - - - When I arrived at the new computer room, I discovered a shambles. Paul had made the mistake of telling the bank about his problems, and the place was flooded by bank staff forming discussion groups, forming action teams, forming advisory discussions - forming and reforming as loud dissidents migrated between groups to form factions. My own employees and contractors were bemusedly achieving nothing as they absently obeyed new sets of unauthorized instructions reversing previous instructions. I saw no sign of Paul. "Everybody, stop whatever you are doing!" I commanded in a loud voice. My own people saw that I had arrived and stopped, but the interfering bank people wanted me to be ignored, and continued to try to interfere. "Get all these 'strangers' out of here!" I commanded. "Invite, encourage, persuade, jostle or use necessary force! But get them out now!" My command gave my people the excuses they needed to get rid of the madding crowd, and the room quietened as expectant faces turned to listen to me. "Don't let any more 'strangers' enter without permission!" I barked at them. "Where is Paul? Can anyone else give me a concise description of the problem he has found?" Peter 'Pumpkin Eater' held his hand high, and I signalled him to speak. "Hi, Frances, We have a problem with the signalling ducts being inadequate for accommodating the fibre-optic cables," he relaxed as he finished. "Wow, Peter, that's certainly concise - but more detail, please!" - - - - As the details emerged, I called key personnel into a discussion, and suddenly Barbara joined us. "Samson - Sir Michael's chauffeur is driving my car around somewhere - There's absolutely nowhere to park!" she greeted me. "Barbara, I need you now!" I grabbed her upper arms. "Frances, darling, not in public!" she mocked shock and injured innocence. "You silly woman!" I scolded her with a grin. "We need to make extra cable ducts without weakening the fabric of the building - The sooner you can draft a solution ..." Barbara replaced me in the ad hoc steering committee, and I ushered them into the boardroom, and scared up people to provide tea and biscuits for them. I spotted Paul's PA sneaking in, and grabbed her, and asked about Paul. "Paul is currently being carpeted by the bank's board. They're interrogating him, and won't let him leave. They are simply bullying him", she explained. I thanked her and went storming off to the boardroom. - - - - Paul was struggling to answer three interlocutors at once, but when he saw me he face lost his anxiety, and he waited silently for me to rescue him. "Gentlemen," I began, "I must protest most strongly at your high-handed attempts to interfere with my project! You will receive documented chapter and verse of my protest in due course. You must be aware that there are repercussions for your actions in distracting and delaying the implementation of the project. My people are now tasked with documenting the depth and scale of this interference as the basis of legal indulgences. I must insist that all attempts to interfere with the project both now and at any future time are desisted and abandoned!" I looked at two rows of shocked and scandalized faces - Except Richard was trying hard to avoid laughing, and the chairman's poker face was a tribute to his experience. "Come, Paul, we have work to do!" I led my Integration Director back to his work. He started to stutter his explanation, but I stopped him. "Paul, never ... ever consult with the client as equals! If you ever feel the need to consult with them, ensure you are carrying a big stick! You are still quite new at client-facing, so write this off as a learning experience! Barbara is here, and she seems quite excited ... I think she has a solution for the ducting. She needs to talk to you to confirm her plan." I led Paul back to the computer room. I was pleased to see that order had been restored in my absence, and those not gathered around Barbara were getting on with their jobs. As our entrance was noted, people broke off briefly to show their support for Paul as he hurried to join Barbara. I, myself hung back ... It was hard ... I wanted to be right in the middle, but I needed to show confidence in Paul and Barbara ... I had to wait impatiently until they could report to me. Richard arrived and asked permission to enter the computer room. I grinned at him and escorted him inside. Richard looked about him with a pleased expression. "You've stamped your authority here, Frances!" he observed. "And ... in our boardroom as well!" he laughed. "As soon as you closed the door behind you, pandemonium reigned! Everybody talking at once - Everyone saying nasty things about you - Everybody wanting revenge or some punishment to be visited on you - And then Sir Ivor just shut them all up. He told them that they had undermined, and were undermining the dignity of the bank - if anyone had anything constructive to say, he would consider hearing it! Richard whistled through his teeth as he finished. "Frances, I am truly glad that I'm on your side!" Paul and Barbara spotted me and came over. I gave them an interrogative glance and they both nodded. "Richard will the board still be sitting?" I asked him. He nodded and raced to return to his place. "Gentlemen, thank you for receiving us at short notice. My colleagues would like to outline the proposed solution at this impasse. But first I would like to ensure that everyone understands the problem. The fibre-optic cable manufacturer guarantees service of his fibre-optic cables for 50 years - subject to the usual exclusions. He has re- assessed the MTBF reliabilty of his cables, and decided that an extra layer of kevlar sheathing is required - and so all new deliveries of their cable will have a larger diameter - This is permitted under the contract terms providing that the pricing is unaffected. Thus apart from the fibre-optic cable already delivered, all new deliveries will be of the fatter cable. Paul has calculated that some of the ducting so far provided will not accommodate all the cables that need to pass through it, and some of that ducting may have critical relevance to the integrity of the fabric of the building. I hand over to my colleagues ..." I waved a hand for them to step into my place. I was nervous, but tried to hide it - I, myself had not heard the solution. "Don't let me down!" I silently hoped. Barbara and Paul were like a well-rehearsed duet, and their solution was music to my ears. When they had finished we turned and exited without waiting for any acknowledgement. - - - - "So, Barbara, just who is 'Sir Michael' then?" I asked with a touch of jealousy. "Oh, just somebody I know ... through my other businesses ... you know how it is." Barbara was teasing me, so a game had started. "So, a simple business acquaintance lends you his chauffeur for an indeterminate amount of time at a moment's notice? You call that normal?" "Yes, Micky owes me a few favours ..." Barbara tossed her head carelessly as she drove. "Barbara, I don't want you to see Sir Michael any more ..." I was insisting "Fifi, you are jealous! Admit it! You are jealous of a lovely, sweet octogenarian!" she accused me. "How do I know that he is really a really old man?" I challenged her. "Because I told you! And you believe every word I say!" She tossed her head with the final word, and grinned in self-satisfaction. Her free hand pulled down the hem of my skirt. She pinged a garter strap, patted my thigh and then squeezed it - all while grinning at the road ahead. - - - - 42. Nieces Barbara took Sheila's phone call, and quickly put it on speaker before removing my gag. "Break, Fifi!" she told me, and then spoke to Sheila. "Fifi can join in now, Sheila ... Her bum is a bit sore, so she might have trouble concentrating ..." "Hello, both of you ... Fifi, you really must stop being so naughty! I've had a wonderful time catching up with my nieces, but I think that they are getting a bit bored now. I was wondering what you would think about me bringing them home for their last week with me as their babysitter?" Sheila asked tentatively. "How old are they? Are they well-behaved?" Barbara enquired immediately. "Are they house trained?" I asked mocking Barbara, and she twisted my nipple to discipline me. "Ow!" I complained. "Please come home, Sheila and save me from this deranged, sadistic woman! - Ow!" I complained again as Barbara twisted my other nipple and grinned at me. "Seriously, Sheila, will I have to engage a wet nurse, or a nanny or some such?" Barbara enquired evenly. "No way!" Sheila let her relief into her answer. "Tripolina is eight, and Saratoga is six years old - and yes, Fifi, they are both house-trained!" - - - - "Tripolina, Saratoga - This is Barbara - you should call her Aunty Barbara!" "But she's not really my aunty!" Tripolina complained wistfully, and desperately clinging to Sheila. "Barbara is my very good friend, and she would like you to think of her as your Aunty!" "Will Barbara be my aunty as well?" queried Saratoga with hope in her eyes. "Of course I will!" said Barbara squatting and holding out her arms to Saratoga. Without hesitation Saratoga ran into the waiting arms and hugged Barbara. "I'm glad you're my aunty!" she stated confidently. "Girls this is Fifi ... Fifi is a sort of actress - she pretends to be lots of different people ... Just now ... Fifi is pretending to be a house maid," Barbara intoned. "You mean a sort of servant?" Tripolina asked while staring hard at me. "Your servant, girls!" I declared formally as I curtsied extremely low. Tripolina brightened. "I've always wanted a servant!" she declared, and Saratoga claimed her share as well. "She's my servant too!" she insisted. "Girls that's just part of Fifi's act - she's not really anybody's servant - It's just an old-fashioned way of being polite when introduced. The little girls looked confused for a second, and then Tripolina curtsied back to me. "Your servant aunty Fifi." and Saratoga followed her example. "No, girls, Fifi isn't a new aunty for you, you must simply call her Fifi!" "Is that because she doesn't really like us ...?" Saratoga asked doubtfully. "No, dear, that's because your mother might not approve." Sheila answered. "I am sure I will like you both lots and lots!" I reassured them. - - - - It didn't take long for the little girls to realise that acting as a servant meant carrying out a servants duties. They saw Barbara and Sheila ordering me about, and they soon had me running about for them as well. A forgotten doll to be fetched. The wrong cardigan to be changed. A fork accidentally dropped onto the 'dirty' floor. Sheila and Barbara simply giggled behind their hands as the little girls gave me tasks to complete. Somehow Rasher entered the conversation, and the little girls curiosity was aroused. I had to explain who Rasher was, and why she was named Rasher, and finally I had to explain why my pet pig was no longer living at home. My explanation won me null points. The little girls frowned hard at me. "We think you're just cruel - Sending away your little pig!" I was condemned in their eyes. "But Rasher is thoroughly enjoying herself at the petting farm!" I protested, "Every day lots of people - especially lots of children make a fuss of her and stroke her and tickle her under her chin ..." "I think tickling a helpless animal is cruel!" Saratoga glared at me. "But Rasher really likes being tickled!" I protested - I even like it when your aunty Sheila or aunty Barbara tickle me!" Saratoga's eyes widened. "Can I tickle Rasher under her chin, Fifi?" "We'll have to go and visit her to do that - And your aunties might have other plans for your stay," I demurred. Then followed lots of pleading and promises to my wives so that Fifi could take them to visit Rasher. - - - - All five of us went to visit Rasher. I left my apron, cap, cuffs and collar behind - I didn't want anybody to think I was too kinky. I was entitled to get in free, but for ease we let Barbara pay for all of us. There were goats, sheep and calves roaming about the farmyard, but the little girls had come to see Rasher, so all else was distraction. I spotted a pig surrounded by a crowd of children and their parents. It was the most popular pig at the farm - It was Rasher. "Hi there, Rasher!" I shouted, and the distant pig froze to listen. "Over here, Rasher," I shouted. and with a squeal of delight, Rasher rapidly escaped from all her admirers and galloped towards me at full speed. The children cowered in the shadow of the adults - peeking out from the assumed safety. Rasher braked to a stop, and remembered to not try to jump into my lap - she still had sharp trotters, and almost tripped me as she vigorously rubbed against my legs squealing happily. Rasher saw Barbara ans Sheila and gave each an affectionate nugde, and delightful squeal, and then resumed rubbing vigorously against my stocking covered legs. I gave Saratoga and Tripolina an acorn each, and told them to feed Rasher. Rasher had watched the acorns pass from me with great interest. Tripolina offered her acorn on her flattened hand to Rasher, and to the amazement of my wives, Rasher very carefully and gently took the acorn and ate it. Rasher the looked at Saratoga expectantly, and the feeding was repeated. Rasher nudged Saratoga and Tripolina and squealed her thanks. I took out a handful of acorns for Rasher, who watched me very carefully. "Give me an acorn, Fifi. I want to feed Rasher as well!" Sheila commanded. Barbara held out her hand for an acorn as well. By the time all the acorns had gone, the four girls had all taken turns feeding Rasher, and I had given her nothing. Saratoga was experimenting with tickling Rasher's neck and chin, and rasher collapsed into a wriggling heap in squealing ecstasy. Of course all the others had to take turns tickling the very spoiled pig, and a huge crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. As strangers took over the tickling, Barbara steered us away to look at the other animals. Sheila and Barbara took it in turns to educate the little girls about each different animal we encountered until ... "You mean ... the poor animals get killed and made into food?" voiced by an incredulous Saratoga. "That's just horrible - that is!" "Even Rasher?" Tripolina asked tentatively. "No, girls," I interrupted, "Every animal on this petting farm will go into retirement when it gets too old, and will live peacefully for the rest of its life!" My wives looked at me incredulously. "That's what they promise in the publicity leaflets ..." I explained. - - - - Riding back in the car squeezed in between the two little girls in the back seat, Saratoga wanted to know how Rasher recognised me. "That's easy," said Tripolina, "Rasher is a clever pig!" "Pigs aren't clever!" Sheila objected, and that set me off. "Not all pigs are clever! That's true," I admitted but some pigs - like Rasher - are clever. The same way that not all people are clever, but some are! As well as pigs ... apes, monkeys, parrots, whales can be clever. Some animals like dogs and cats can appear to be clever, but deciding whether an animal is clever is really very tricky, because we can't talk to them to find out. Various scientists invent tests to find out cleverness in animals - and sometimes get some very encouraging results ... But unless you can tell the animal that it is being tested, and you can be sure of its cooperation poor test results may be invalid. For instance - everybody thinks orangutans are intelligent, but they get bored very quickly and don't cooperate with testing - so they always score badly in tests." I became silent as I descended from my high horse. "But Rasher is definitely intelligent?" Saratoga pursued. "Yes, she is ... I could train her to do almost anything within her physical powers, and she could solve puzzles - usually related to food ... And more importantly she could override her own instincts. I truly believe that thoughtful responses replacing instinctive responses are the true indicators of intelligence," I finished my subsidary lecture. "Fifi, are you a teacher?" Tripolina enquired, and Sheila and Barbara burst out laughing. "We're not laughing at you, darling," Sheila reassured Tripolina. "We just think that Fifi would make a very funny teacher!" - - - - One day the little girls had been let outside to play and some of the outbuildings had been left unlocked. They had discovered the sulky and were intrigued by it. I always sidestepped their questions and changed the subject to something more interesting. But every time I left them unsatisfied they became ever more curious. One breakfast they asked Sheila about the funny pushchair they had found. "It's a special cart for pony racing!" she lazily dismissed the query, but I knew the walls would come tumbling down. "Where do you keep your pony, aunty Sheila?" Saratoga was keen to know. "Who feeds it? Can we go and see it?" Tripolina piled on the pressure. "We don't have a pony, darling. The pony cart isn't meant for a real pony," Barbara unconsciously stoked the flames of childish interest. "If it's not for a real pony - What sort of pony is it for?" Triploina demanded with a puzzled frown. "It's for a girl, who pretends to be a pony- Now eat your breakfast and stop talking!" Sheila cut the conversation, and prematurely celebrated a successful termination of the subject. When breakfast was finished, both little girls stayed sat in their places instead of running off to play. "Aunty Sheila ... Who pretends to be a pony? Is it you?" Tripolina's question made Sheila choke on her cup of tea. "No, dear, Fifi likes to pretend to be a pony sometimes - We told you Fifi is an actress," Barbara rescued Sheila and dropped me into the mire. "Does Fifi pull the cart around, Aunty Barbara? When she pretends to be a maid, she has to behave like a maid - So when she pretends to be a pony ...?" Tripolina was persistent - I knew she would be. "Can I ride in the cart while Fifi pulls me around, please, Aunty Barbara?" Saratoga pierced the last defence. - - - - "It's just a costume, Fifi! ... A costume any actress would wear to suit her director! There is no point trying to tone it down! In fact the sheer outrageousness means nobody will believe it has practical value ... when the girls tell their mother and friends what they saw. We just need to fill in a background story for the plot of the film ... and then it will all go away!" Barbara was confident, but I wasn't. However, Barbara's way seemed to be the only way out of the mess. Fifi the pony girl would have to give rides to the two little girls. - - - - "Aunty Barbara, why are you tying Fifi up? Are you frightened that she will run away?" Tripolina's serious face was endearing as she concerned herself for my welfare. "It might seem a little bit strange, my lovely, but this is part of the uniform for a pony girl!" Barbara completed the reverse prayer and fastened the enclosing 'baggy.' "If you look at a real pony with a cart, you'll see that there are straps all around it, my dear!" Sheila contributed. "Is that why aunty Barbara is putting a pony's bit in Fifi's mouth - so that her costume is just like a real pony?" Saratoga observed shrewdly. "Yes, my dear, and since ponies can't talk - neither should Fifi!" Barbara added gleefully. "But ponies can talk, aunty Barbara! They say 'neigh, neigh, neigh'!" Saratoga argued. This was too good a cue to miss, so I neighed three times past my gag, and shook my head like a horse. Saratoga was pleased that I had proved her correct, and grinned at me. "Fifi is a rather good actress, aunty Sheila!" Tripolina seemed impressed. "Tripolina can you help me fasten the pony's harness, if I hold the cart in place?" Sheila gainfully employed her willing assistant. Soon I was ready, and the four of them stood in front of me admiring their work. "Now, Fifi, you are going to be a good pony - aren't you? No rearing! No Bolting! And no disobedience!" Barbara admonished me. I hung my head and neighed softly in reply. "Fifi really gets into her part, girls. There was one occasion when she ran off alone with her little cart, and wouldn't let us catch her! She was a bad pony!" Barbara recounted. "Did you spank her!" Saratoga enquired with great interest. "We certainly did!" said Sheila. "She couldn't sit down afterwards!" Barbara pronounced dramatically. "You will be a nice pony today, Fifi?" Saratoga entreated me, and I neighed softly as an answer. I was kitted out in full pony racing outfit - less the pony's tail and the nipple-ring connections to the reins. Tripolina wanted a photograph, but Sheila told her that I was very shy, and no photos would be allowed. Barbara climbed into the sulky, and Sheila handed her the little girls - one on each side. Sheila grabbed my bridle and walked me to the back lawn, while Barbara continued a conversation with the delighted girls. They giggled and chattered happily as Barbara steered me around the huge lawn a half-dozen times at a steady high-stepping trot. Then of course, having watched Barbara carefully, Tripolina wanted to learn how to drive the pretty pony. I sighed as another line of defence crumbled. The reins jerked more as they were mishandled, but Barbara was coaching and curbing Tripolina's energetic enthusiasm, and the violent changes in rein tensions faded away as I completed another circuit of the lawn. Saratoga also insisted on having a turn driving, and so the experience was repeated. "Can't Fifi go any faster?" Tripolina asked impatiently as she waited for another turn, so Barbara clicked her tongue and shook my reins to command a canter. "Does Fifi always go faster without being whipped, aunty Barbara? On the cowboy films, they always have to whip the horses to make them go faster?" Tripolina enquired as she took her next turn at driving. "We only whip Fifi, if she fails to show sufficient enthusiasm!" Barbara replied. "Won't Fifi go any faster?" Saratoga asked impatiently. "No, darling, this is quite fast enough with a heavy cart - you don't want to wear out poor Fifi - Do you?" Barbara took over again to drive me straight back to the stable. She handed the reins to Tripolina as she descended to complete some personal business. "Don't let Fifi run off, darling! I'll be back in a jiffy!" Barbara waved to Sheila watching from the lawn as she raced inside the outbuilding. Waiting - I simply drifted into dream time. I felt the reins tighten, and then shake as the loud tongue click sounded. I escaped my torpor, and started a high stepping trot. I was steered in a zigzag - it was obvious that Barbara had surrendered the reins to one of the girls. There was another click and shake of the reins as I re-entered the large back lawn. Sheila waved excitedly as I passed and changed into a canter. Sheila seemed to be shouting encouragement to my driver. The next tongue click and shake of the reins was unexpected based on what I had heard Barbara say shortly before, but 'Not Mine to Reason Why' I burst into a gallop. I hoped Barbara knew what she was doing. The steering still seemed very erratic! I galloped to and fro across the large lawn, and eventually turned towards the swimming pool. I consoled myself that Barbara was winding me up, and she would turn or stop me at the last moment, but she didn't! - - - - Luckily - the heavy duty cover had been placed across the swimming pool, and that stopped us sinking straight away. I fell on my face - the tarpaulin gave no grip to my hoof boots. The cart capsized as our section of tarpaulin foundered sideways under our weight. The girls were spilled out, but managed to climb the wet slopes of the tarpaulin and gained the sides of the pool - where they both burst into tears - simply bawling their heads off. There was no sign of Barbara. The tarpaulin had separated from the side of the pool, and I feared Barbara had been pitched into the gap, and was drowning out of sight. The tarpaulin continued to sink, and the gap increased. I saw Sheila arrive at the pool side just as my head bobbed under the rising water. I forced my head clear of the surface and shouted through my bit for Sheila to help Barbara. I couldn't bend my neck enough to raise my head again, and tried holding my breath under the water. Suddenly the tarpaulin moved violently and somebody was lifting my head. I scrambled my feet and found purchase inside a fold of the tarpaulin. Sheila was holding me - We were both chest deep in water, but the tarpaulin was now supporting us without sinking. Sheila managed to free my bit gag without releasing hold of my head. "Help ... Barbara!" I spluttered and then coughed out some water. "Barbara is coming to help," Sheila soothed, and I became angry. "I'm alright now - please, help Barbara!" I was getting frantic. "I am here to help!" gasped Barbara panting and standing on the side of the pool. Barbara lowered herself into the pool and walked acrosss the submerged tarpaulin. The tarpaulin swayed and rocked as she approached. Working together, they freed my arms and separated me from the deadweight sulky. Then supporting one another we walked and swam to the side of the pool and hung there resting for a while before we struggled onto dry land. "We'd better get you girls into some dry clothes!" Barbara decided as she hugged the shivering little girls. "I'll do that!" Sheila announced as she led the girls back to the house. I rolled over onto my back, and let the sunshine warm me, but something was wrong. "I am glad you're safe, Barbara! I thought you might be a goner! You were out of sight so quickly - How did you get out? I thought you were trapped under the tarpaulin?" Barbara sat down and rolled on top of me to peck a kiss on my cheek. "I wasn't under water at all! You didn't realise that I wasn't in the sulky! Just those two mischievous girls - They took you for a ride, Fifi!" I grabbed her and rolled on top of her. "Bad mistress, I should spank you for your carelessness - you didn't apply the handbrake - Did you?" I challenged her - staring into her eyes. She kissed my nose. "Yes, I did! ... But those minxes must have released it!" Barbara kissed my nose again, so I hugged and snogged her until she pushed me away. "Fifi, you take too many liberties with your mistress. I can forgive some slight deviations of discipline, but you are becoming too presumptuous by half! ...I shall ..." I interrupted her tirade by snogging her again, and she reciprocated helpless in my arms. - - - - Maid Fifi was serving Dinner when two little girls came bounding down the stairs -closely followed by Sheila. At the bottom of the stairs their confidence evaporated, and they turned around to seek reassurance from aunty Sheila, who nodded at them encouragingly. As soon as my hands were free of dishes they raced up to me and grabbed one hand each. "Fifi, we want to apologise," they chorused together - I glanced at Sheila and realised that she had been rehearsing them. "What do you need to apologise for?" I asked innocently. "We were very naughty, and very silly, and we might have really hurt you!" they continued together. "Did you nearly die?" Tripolina asked off-script. "Not with your aunty Sheila looking after me!" I fielded the possible guilt trip. "But I did get very wet all of a sudden, and that wasn't very nice!" "We got wet as well!" Saratoga piped up. "Are you both sorry that you got us all wet? ... Even aunty Sheila and aunty Barbara?" "We are sorry!" they chimed together looking down at their feet. "Well, if you are both truly sorry, perhaps we should all be friends again? Would you like that?" They nodded with serious faces, and suddenly dragged me backwards to the couch so that they could sit on my lap and kiss me. "Fifi, why do you wear metal panties?" was an unexpected question from Saratoga, and I had to pause before I answered. "Tripolina, you must never lift a ladies skirt to look at her panties!" Sheila admonished, and Tripolina quickly pulled my skirt hem back down again. "Why DO you wear metal Panties, Fifi?" Tripolina interrogated me. "You see, girls, I wear a corset which squeezes my waist - but without the metal panties, all my squeezed tummy might just plop out lower down!" They gasped at the revelation - which did have a modicum of truth. "Wouldn't it be better, and more comfortable to not wear your corset at all - and then you could wear soft panties instead?" Saratoga was searching for a solution for me. I looked over at Sheila and Barbara shaking their heads, and grinning. - - - - 43. Epilogue "Fifi, break! Come and sit between us!" Sheila commanded when I had finished clearing away after a meal. "I think that overall we all enjoyed the niece's visit?" she queried and was answered by nodded heads. "Barbara and I have decided to become mothers!" Sheila had turned to face me. "Congratulations, darlings!" I gushed. "Do I know the fathers?" When the pummelling was finished they helped me up from the floor to sit between them again. Each glared at me with a fierce expression as I rubbed my sore arms. "Neither of us are yet pregnant, we had planned to select you as the father ... but now I'm not so sure - What do you think, Barbara?" "I cannot imagine having anyone else fathering my children, Sheila ...", Barbara replied, and kissed my cheek. Sheila felt left out, and softened enough to kiss my other cheek. "Fifi, both Barbara and myself have stopped taking the birth control pill. Whenever we have sex with you, it will be unprotected, and is likely to lead to pregnancy ... If you have any objection ..." Sheila stopped talking as I grabbed her head and snogged her. "I would simply love to give you a child - children, Sheila! And the same to you, Barbara!" I then snogged Barbara as well. Barbara pretended to be cross with me. "Well, I never .. I don't know! ... The hired help giving herself airs, and taking uninvited liberties with her mistresses!" I snogged her again to shut her up. "How are we going to play this?" I asked them. "With the programmed enhancements required for project Phoenix, Frances will have to stay around for another two years, so you two tyrants will probably want Fifi for the same period - That means that if either of you gets pregnant soon, Fifi will be around when the child is born ..." Sheila chipped in next. "Whoever is the mother, the child can be presented as legitimate ... Barbara still uses Fred's surname, and I am legally Fred's wife - The birth certificate will be in order!" "The legal niceties are of trivial concern, Sheila ... Let's agree that all our babies will have three mothers to look after them without fear or favour!" Barbara added. "I don't agree, Barbara! Let's say that all our babies will have two mothers and one father - Fred will be due to return when project Phoenix is signed off as complete!" I insisted. "That would be too confusing for the children to have one of the mothers turn into a father - Fifi. ... You must not become Fred again until all the children are grown up!" Barbara had disagreed with me. "Both of you listen to me!" Sheila interrupted. "For balanced childhoods, the children will need a father figure - also for official and social occasions ... So Fred must be always available - but 'on call' available. "So just like we told Richard at the bank ... Fred is busy travelling the world - trying to drum up more business for the company. "Occasionally ... Fred can fit visits to his children into his busy schedule? "... In time for graduations and school plays - you know the sort of thing ... "The rest of the time Fifi/Frances has to be available! How does that sound?" "We can tell the children that Fifi/Frances is Fred's poor relation - come to work for us as our house maid!" Barbara concluded. "We'll have to be more private with our games, when the children are around!" Sheila reasoned. "And with our sex!" Barbara grinned. "That's really what I meant!" complained Sheila. The telephone rang, and Barbara jumped up to fetch it, and handed it to Sheila. Sheila set it to speaker mode. "Hi, sis! Did you have a good holiday - forgot to ask when I dropped off the girls?" Sheila's sister greeted Barbara and me, and then spent some time enthusing about her holiday. "Hold on, the girls want to speak to you all!" Sheila's sister cued her daughters to speak. "Thank you for babysitting us, aunty Sheila, and thank you aunty Barbara and Fifi for having us. We enjoyed ourselves very much," they chorused together. "You forgot to say 'Aunty Fifi', girls!" "Oh no, mummy ... Fifi isn't to be called 'Aunty Fifi', aunty Sheila said so!" Saratoga insisted. "The girls have come back with all sorts of exciting stories of their time at your house, Barbara - Some of them are unbelievable .. just childish imagination, I expect. Saratoga now wants a pet pig of her own, I don't know what to say to her ... Fifi was Rasher your own pet at home? Did keeping a pig turn your house into a pigsty?" "No, not at all. If you get a piglet just-weaned, it can be house- trained just like a dog ... and like a dog you can put it on a lead for walks. I doubt you will find a pig as intelligent or as loving as Rasher, but a pig should make a good pet for Saratoga or Tripolina." "Thanks, Fifi ... Did you really dress up in costume for rehearsing for some adventure film?" she asked. "Well, yes, I have practised in various costumes - but it's mere practice - I haven't been given a part in a film. One day here everybody dressed up ... Saratoga was a princess, and Tripolina was a super- heroine ... Barbara was a witch, and Sheila was an angel - we all had fun!" "What's this about an accident at the swimming pool?" This was turning into an interrogation. "We were playing with a rickshaw type of cart, and I went too near the swimming pool and fell in with the cart. The girls fell out of the cart and ended up in the water. They were frightened and cold, but Sheila soon sorted them out! The girls thought it was quite an adventure!" I offered. "You won't believe how much young, excited minds can exaggerate events!" she finished - sounding relieved. The phone call then ended after best wishes were exchanged. "You handled that well!" Sheila seemed impressed. "You ought to have been a diplomat!" added Barbara - grinning. "I run out of lies far too quickly to be a diplomat," I answered and we laughed.