'A Winter Excursion' Ms Howard free porn video

Ms Howard's Winter Holiday.

Ms Howard was woken for the first time that morning by the sounds of Mary,her slave-maid, lighting the log-fire in its grate. Coming out of her usualdeep, dreamless slumber, she drowsily tasted the fresh, cold air from the openwindow of her bedroom, then snuggled down again into her warm, soft bed andfell asleep again.

She woke again later to Mary's soft footsteps and the click of a silver salverbeing gently placed on the exquisite Louis XV table at her bedside.

"Your morning tea, Ma'am," came Mary's deferential voice as shewent to close the windows.

"Pour it please, Mary. And draw back the curtains. How is the weather?"

"Sunny and cold, Ma'am, with a hard frost...Your bath is drawn, Ma'am."

"Very well, Mary; I shall bathe directly....Is Polly still asleep inher basket?"

"No, Ma'am; she has just finished attending on Mistress Sonia."

"Send Polly into me, will you?"

"At once, Ma'am!"

Ms Howard sat up in her comfortable bed and watched Mary make a silent exit.Moments later Polly, her body-slave, appeared timorously in the room.

Ms Howard gazed at her with almost parental affection. A tiny waif of a girl,seeming much less than her nineteen years, she wore the leather collar of aClass Four slave around her slender neck, a simple white linen tunic, and thinwhite sandals on her tiny feet. Ms Howard had first seen her in the kennelsat a friend's mansion on the Island and had bought her on the spot. Poor thing!Too small for labouring work, she'd been kept naked in the dogs' wired compoundwhere she slept with them and fought them for her food. Under a mop of thickblack curls a pair of large brown eyes regarded her Mistress with dog-likedevotion.

"Come, dear! Help me undress for my bath, and lay out my brown silk dressand some shoes for later."

In her bath Ms Scally exulted in the feel of the soft, scented, warm wateron Her translucent skin. It had been one of her best ideas, she thought, toput back into working order the old-fashioned well from which it came, andfrom which it had been pumped in the far past by a donkey trudging in an endlesscircle, and to put her new male beast to the same task.

She paused to give Boy a guilty, fleeting thought; she realised she hadn'tnoticed him for a long time; since she'd tired of him as a pet, and had thenecessary surgery done on him to enable him to function eficiently as a draughtanimal. She smiled in self-deprecation at this sudden concern for a beast'swelfare. She had slaves to look after her animals, after all!

Later, after a breakfast served in her luxorious Breakfast Room, she saunteredout through the French doors onto the patio where she stood in the early morningsunshine and looked about her. The garden looked tidy enough; all the Autumnleaves had now been cleared away, and the grass verges trimmed neatly. Glancingover to her left she saw her two male slaves (what were the names she had giventhem?..'Chestnut' and 'Blossom'; of course!) their legs hobbled and their bareskins blotched red and blue with the cold, piling saws and and axes into afour-wheeled cart. And there, around the corner, came her old yard-slave Bessieleading the bridled Boy by the ring through his broad, flat nose, up to thecart, where, after a curt word from Bessie, she and one of the male slavesharnessed him between its shafts. Bessie inserted his bit and attached thereins, then made a gesture to the two slaves, who knelt meekly at the backof the cart for Bessie to attach long leather leashes to their heavy steelcollars. Bessie took her seat, shook Boy's reins and flicked him on the rumpwith her whip. Obediently Boy leaned into his harness and walked slowly off,guided by Bessie, onto the smooth grassy path which led into the woods, themale slaves trudging wearily behind on their leashes.

Ms Howard had a sudden inspiration. Turning decisively back into the house,she walked swiftly into the small, fully appointed office she'd caused to bebuilt for those occasions when she chose to work from home. Her slave-PA, Sonia,was already at work, a sheaf of faxes at her elbow. She looked up from herlap-top with an affectionate smile.

"Good morning, Ma'am! Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning; Sonia, dear! Very well, thank you. Are those the latestfaxes from Mrs. Mitchell?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I have drawn up a brief precis for you." She handedher Mistress a sheet of paper.

Ms Howard scanned it swiftly.

"Nothing here that needs my personal presence," she decided. "Wewon't go in today, Sonia. Instead, we'll go for a drive later and work on allthis in one of the Summerhouses. We can lunch there. It's such a lovely day!"

It was a quarter to eleven by the big Stableyard clock when Ms Howard, wellwrapped against the cold and sitting with coffee and a book on the sunny patio,Polly curled up dog-like at her feet, observed the return of the wood cuttingparty, Bessie leading Boy straining under his heavy load of logs, the two maleslaves trudging wearily along on their leashes.

Ms Howard rang immediately for her slave-housekeeper. Veronica appeared swiftlyand, after a few directions from her Mistress, the latter was able to see heremerge into the yard, march up to Bessie, and relay to the yard-slave her Mistress'sorders.

Bessie at once released the male slaves from their tethers and put them towork unloading and stacking the logs under the supervision of Millie, her counter-partin the kitchen. Unharnessing Boy, she led him off around the corner and outof Ms Howard's sight.

Veronica came back onto the patio.

"All will be ready for you in ten minutes, Ma'am. At what time will yourequire lunch?"

"Oh; at one o'clock, I think; and we shall return for tea at four. Thatwill be all, Veronica. Polly; go and fetch my old fleece. You are to go withus, and I would not have you cold, you poor child!"

Ten minutes later Ms Howard, with Sonia and Polly in attendance, descendedthe stone steps of the Great Porch in the front facade of her handsome oldGeorgian mansion to find Boy, now harnessed to a smartly painted and polishedthree-seater cart, waiting patiently for them, with Bessie by his side holdinghim by his bit. His Mistress and her entourage mounted and took their seats;Sonia by her Mistress's side on the broad leather bench at the front, Polly,muffled in Ms Howard's old fleece, on the small seat behind. Bessie pulledaround Boy's head to turn the cart, Ms Howard shook Boy's reins and flickedhim on the shoulder with Her whip, observing with satisfaction the powerfulmuscles of his haunches, back, and shoulders swell and strain as he leanedinto his harness and moved off.

Had this muscular, powerful animal really once been the gauche, weedy youngman she barely remembered from four and a half years ago, she wondered lightly?

Under her sure, gentle guidance, they drove off into the forest. The paths,or 'rides', were smooth, the short turf kept in order by Bessie and her minions.Ms Howard struck the straining beast before her again, causing him to breakinto a slow trot. She was enjoying the cold, clear air on her face, and hadhalf a mind to whip Boy into a faster gait. But, she thought, there were threeof them, even counting her body-slave's slight weight, and she didn't wantto exhaust him; besides, he was moving almost as fast as his hobble would allowhim. She examined Boy's heaving back critically, noting the angry red weltshe had accumulated in his morning labours. He was moving along easily enough,panting lightly through his bit, the powerful muscles of his thighs and haunchesswelling and contracting with a smooth rhythm, at a steady four and a halfmiles an hour, as if he could keep it up all day. He had begun to sweat copiously,and occasional wafts of the rank odour of his long-unwashed body swept overthe occupants of the cart, causing Sonia to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"One would have expected them to at least have perfumed the beast foryour ride, Ma'am," she remarked indignantly.

"Nonsense, my dear!" smiled her Mistress in response. She was acountry girl by upbringing; She had grown up surrounded by dogs, ponies, horses,and a host of other domestic fauna. Animals WERE smelly, and hard-worked animalsthe smelliest of all!

They drove on through the crisp air for half an hour or so until they cameto a sunny glade in which stood a small, handsome, wooden Summerhouse, itssunlit terrace and comfortable chairs inviting repose.

Ms Howard dismounted lithely, and handed the reins to Polly.

"Take it over to those trees, dear," she said, "and tetherit in the sunlight. And give it some water!"

She smiled as she watched the two incongruous figures move off; Polly, muffledin the (to her) enormous fleece, its sleeves rolled back several times to exposeher tiny fingers, its hem trailing around her ankles, a child-like figure nextto the massive, muscular beast which followed her so docilely. She and Soniatook their seats, from where, as Sonia arranged her papers, Ms Howard notedwith amusement how Polly, too small to raise the shallow water bucket to Boy'sbroad mouth, had fetched a box from the shed behind the Summerhouse to standon.

Polly, her task finished, scampered back to take up her place at her Mistress'sfeet, and she and her PA began their work. Ms Howard dealt with document afterdocument swiftly and decisively with the ease of long practice, and the pileof papers was much diminished when Sonia's mobile telephone gave its discreetbuzz.

Sonia, with a glance of apology, answered it.

"It's Veronica, Ma'am," she said with surprise. "The luncheonhamper is ready. Can it really be so late? We don't seem to have been workingnearly so long!"

"Time flies when one's enjoying oneself!" laughed her Mistress. "It'sten to one already! We've done an enormous amount, dear!"

"Shall I tell them to send out a slave with the hamper, Ma'am?" enquiredSonia.

"No; Polly shall take Boy and fetch it. I don't want him to stiffen upin the cold."

Ms Howard looked on with a smile as Polly untethered Boy and, with a struggleon account of her size, mounted the cart and scrambled into the driving position.She laid the whip on Boy's broad back and Ms Howard smiled again to see themmove off, Polly's diminutive body perched high on her seat, dwarfed by thepowerful animal she directed. It was an odd spectacle, She mused; Boy was muchlarger and many times stronger than the tiny creature who controlled his movementswith such easy confidence, but he laboured on under her whip meekly and docilely,a tame beast; any thought of revolt, by dint of thorough training and longusage, utterly beyond his mental horizon. Polly had whipped Boy into his topspeed before they'd reached the end of the glade; with only the weight of thecart plus Polly's insignificant addition, his load was light, and it was notlong before the two returned.

Boy panted heavily between the shafts as Sonia and Polly took down the hamperand carried it up the wooden steps onto the terrace. Ms Howard herself tookBoy's reins and led him a short distance away to tether him to a fence railin the sunlight, and with her own hands gave him water from his bucket. Perhapshe recognised her in spite of the blinkers which so limited his vision, forhe kept vainly pulling his head round against his short tether to try to nuzzleher fingers, causing her to reflect a little guiltily on her recent neglectof him, and to determine secretly to give him more of her time in the nearfuture. But, she mused, perhaps it was only a domesticated animal's naturaldesire to have some human company which motivated him.

His watering finished, she took a few moments to examine him critically. Smooth,seamless skin covered the places where his arms had joined his trunk, and theshort, broad, plastic and titanium muzzle the surgeons had grafted on to hisjaws was now a natural part of his face. Thin strings of mixed saliva and mucushung from the corners of his broad, thick-lipped mouth, and from the bronzering in his wide nostrils. She took up a stance to his front and side. He turnedhis head, and regarded her with the pale, blank eyes of a beast. Gazing intohis expressionless eyes for a few seconds, she found no sign of recognition,no sign of humanity. But perhaps what humanity he still retained, if any, hadlong since gone underground in some deep recess of his brain. Without ceremonyhe let out a flood of urine from his thick, limp penis dangling among the thickbush of pubic hair between his massive thighs, causing her to jump back insudden disgust. Recovering her poise, she smiled in self-mockery at her reaction.What other recourse had a tethered draught animal, harnessed between the shaftsof its cart?

Returning, she found that Sonia and Polly had laid the table; spotless napery,crystal and silver gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight. She sat, and Soniaserved them both with piping hot chicken soup, crusty rolls, and a glass ofBurgundy from a dusty bottle; Polly crouching nearby, waiting for the leftovers.A light but satisfying meal; soup, cheese and fruit, followed by brandy andcoffee: afterwards they sat replete for ten minutes then, leaving the remainsfor Polly to pick over, to clear away, and to repack the hamper, they strolledup and down in the sunshine. As they neared the fence where he was tetheredBoy spread his legs to the limit of his hobble and defecated copiously on tothe grass between his feet. Sonia turned away with a hiss of disgust. "Filthybeast!" she muttered, causing her Mistress to burst into affectionatelaughter, for she never tired of teasing her PA about her urban upbringing.

"My dear Sonia!" she laughed. "What goes in must go out! He'sonly an animal; you surely don't expect him to use a flush lavatory? And whata struggle we had with the Sisters to get them to accept him!"

Sonia flushed and smiled her acknowledgement of this thrust; her Mistresscontinued to reminisce.

"Remember the fuss? 'No males slaves under any circumstances: males arecrude, dirty, treacherous, and violent!' - all the old feminist propaganda!"

Sonia smiled in remembrance.

"I well recall their shock when you first produced Boy for their inspection,Ma'am!"

"And proved that males COULD be tamed!" went on her Mistress. "Givena little surgery, and with the help of a micro-chip inserted into the paincentres of their brains, I proved that their hands could be rendered uselessfor any but the simplest tasks, with punishment for any slackening of instantobedience agonizing and swift!"

"But the Sisters demanded the compulsory castration of males, Ma'am.I think they expected you to back down then."

Her Mistress sighed as they took their seats.

"Yes; they did!" She winced at the memory of her defeat on thissubject.

Relaxing in her chair as Sonia collated the results of their labours, Ms Howardgazed out across the sward to where Boy stood patiently waiting. With somethingof a shock, she realised she'd no idea of how his day was normally spent. Sheknew, of course, that he was yoked to the water pump in the early morning;about five o'clock, she thought. She knew too, that the massive increase inhis bodily strength caused by his daily routine now enabled him to pump upample water for their baths in a couple of hours of panting endeavour. Butwhat was done with him the rest of the time? She'd half-noticed him pullinga cart loaded with logs for their fires from time to time; and occasionallyshe'd seen him standing harnessed and tethered behind the Lodge House at theentrance to Her estate as she drove past, probably waiting for Millie's returnfrom one of her numerous errands to the near-by village; she herself had givenMillie's permission to use Boy to travel as far as the Lodge, with her bicycle,on which to complete her journeys, in the back of the cart. But she had noticedhim only in passing, so to speak; as much a part of the landscape as a yokedox would have been in a Third World village. He probably spent his entire dayharnessed to his cart, she decided, and his nights....? How did he spend hisnights? She had a hazy recollection that he'd been kept in a cage originally;but, come to that, she'd no idea under what conditions her males were keptat night. They were, after all, beneath her notice; merely unimportant malecogs in her smoothly running feminine household, but she made a mental noteto find out when they returned.

Sonia finished; Polly was sent to bring Boy over, and they all mounted thecart. It was now well after three o'clock, and the winter sun was already lowin the sky. The windless air was colder, too; and frost was already beginningto form upon the grass.

Ms Howard whipped Boy into his fastest trot, ignoring his obvious fatigue;she was getting cold despite her warm clothing, and she longed for a hot cupof tea in her warm Drawing Room. In fifteen minutes of sweating, panting labourBoy delivered them at the Porch steps from which they'd departed. There Bessiewas waiting; Boy's reins were handed to her, and Ms Howard, her body-slave,and her PA mounted the steps into the welcoming warmth of the house.

Some two hours later it was completely dark, and Ms Howard, recalling herresolution to look into the care of her male property, intimated this intentionto Sonia.

Sonia was dismissive: "I'm sure they're adequately cared for, Ma'am," shesaid.

Her Mistress was adamant. "Nevertheless, we shall go and see for ourselves!"

"Of course, Ma'am!" Sonia meekly agreed. "But we should changeinto more appropriate clothing and put on our Wellington boots; stables aremessy places!"

Ms Howard laughed at her PA's squeamish urban attitude to the dirt and messwhich invariably gathers where animals are kept.

"Very well, dear! And scented face-masks too!" she teased beforeinstructing Polly to lay out for her in her dressing room a pair of jeans,thick socks, and her green Wellington boots. She took a final cup of tea beforemounting the stairs to dress, re-appearing ten minutes later to find her PA,similiarly accoutred, waiting for her.

They left through the Kitchen, acknowledging the respectful bows of the slave-cookSandra and the kitchen-slave Millie, and emerged into the floodlit yard. Theyfound Boy back in harness in the wood-cart which the hobbled male slaves wereunloading under Bessie's eagle eye. They must have done another trip sincewe returned, thought Ms Howard; Boy must be exhausted.

She regarded her Class Four Slave with interest. Bessie's lot had much improvedsince the introduction of male slaves, she reflected. She now wore shoes andthick, woollen stockings in place of bare feet and sandals, and a thick woollengarment with full sleeves instead of her old coarse sacking tunic. Two longleashes hung from her leather girdle, and she held a silvery laser whip withwhich she raised an occasional welt upon the skins of her sweating underlings.

Her Mistress summoned Bessie to her side, and put her enquiries. Bessie'scoarse, homely features took on a look of astonishment.

"Why, Ma'am," she said. "When Blossom and Chestnut have finishedstacking the firewood I shall water them and Boy, then I shall put one of theslaves to sweeping and tidying the yard under Millie's eye. The other I shalltake with me to help me yoke Boy to the water wheel, and tether him there witha goad to keep Boy at his work. Then I shall have tea in the Kitchen, as theLady has so graciously permitted."

"Yoke Boy to the wheel?" queried Ms Howard. "I thought he'dpumped sufficient water for our daily needs already?"

"Oh; no Ma'am! Not water, Ma'am...the Lady will remember She allowedMillie and me electric light in our quarters. Boy is put to work to turn adynamo to charge the batteries!"

Sonia, who had been observing with fascinated disgust the spectacle of Boyemptying his bladder into the dirt between his feet, broke in.

"How long is the beast's working day? And how much of its time is spentblind?" she enquired of the flustered Bessie.

"How long?....Let me see.....He's yoked to the pump at five in the morning,and worked till eight. At this time of the year he mostly pulls the wood-cart;we need to make at least three trips of about two hours each. Then Millie takeshim off for her errands; then there's the garden refuse, carting soil and stonesetc. He's usually in his stall by nine at night. That's about sixteen hours.Blind? Well, at the wheel of course, and we don't normally bother to unblindfoldhim when we harness him to his cart until we want to drive him somewhere insteadof just leading him to where he's to go. I should say he's blinded for aboutseven or eight hours of his working day normally, but if we don't need himfor the cart we just leave him yoked to the wheel and don't bother to takeoff his blinders at all. And at night, in his stall, he's always kept blind;it helps him settle down, we've found."

"And is his harnesss removed at night?" queried Sonia.

"Oh, yes; Mistress Sonia! His harness is put on him only when we wanthim to pull his cart; we take it off before we put his yoke on him."

"What about his hobble and bridle? And is he always led by his nose-ring?"

"Oh; his bridle and hobble are kept on him always; but we regularly checkhis skin for signs of chafing. And we do generally lead him by his nose-ring;he IS a big, strong animal, Mistress, and we find it much easier to controlhis movements."

"Carry on with yoking Boy to the wheel; I shall come and watch. ThenI shall see where and how he's kept," broke in their Mistress. "Andmy male slaves too, of course!"

Bessie bowed and led Boy off, Blossom in attendance. After a few minutes,Scally and Her PA followed them to where they were putting Boy to work. Inthe glow of an oil lamp, Boy, now without his harness, already wore the heavy,padded yoke which secured him to the capstan pole, and they were just in timeto see Bessie snap his blinkers forwards over his eyes to blind him, in orderthat he didn't suffer from the vertigo induced by being made to walk in sosmall a circle for so long. Bessie leashed Blossom to the rotating centralpole and returned to release the brake, Blossom dug his long goad into Boy'sflank, and he, straining into the yoke around his neck and shoulders, begananother endless, sightless journey round and round the central pole, the bellon his yoke clanking dully at every stride.

"Why the bell?" queried Ms Howard.

"For when he gets up to speed, Ma'am, it makes it easier for us to knowhe's slowing for any reason."

"Don't you find that the slaves prone to ill-treat him, Bessie?" askedSonia.

"Not so much now!" replied Bessie grimly. "They know that ifI find they've broken the skin with their goads they get a whipping!"

Taking up another oil lamp, Bessie led the way into a small barn. The airinside was thick and cold; by the feeble rays of the lamp they could see twoclosely-barred cages, each about six by six by six feet high, with thick strawon their steel floors. In each cage a threadbare blanket was neatly foldedon top of the straw, a bucket stood in one corner, and a long chain hung froma staple set three feet high in the wall.

"Here is where the male slaves are kept, Ma'am. They're chained too,as my Lady has instructed. They each have a bucket which serves for their foodand water, for washing, and for their nightly wastes."

"Which cage is whom's?" enquired Ms Howard.

Bessie exhibited some confusion.

"I never bother with that," she confessed. "I lead them inat night and put one of them in the first cage and the other in the second;it doesn't matter which cage they're kept in; does it, Ma'am?"

"Of course not!" Ms Howard agreed cheerfully. "And what arethey fed on; and how often?"

"Oh, cooked scraps and leftovers, raw vegetable peels and scrapings,spoiled fruit and so on, in the early morning and at night. Anything ediblewhich we used to throw away. They have an adequate diet, Ma'am."

Sonia shivered in her thick coat. "It's cold in here!" she exclaimed.

"Yes!" agreed her Mistress. "Now let us see where Boy is kept.In your own quarters, Bessie; is he not?"

"Oh; no, Ma'am; no indeed, not anymore! My Lady was gracious enough toensure I did not have to continue to share my living space with an animal!"

"Was I?" mused Ms Howard. "Well, I expect I was! Lead on, Bessie."

"Through here, Ma'am!"

They followed the slave through the barn, past the male-slaves' cages, andthrough a thick, wooden door into a much smaller room, some ten feet square.In a corner a stall had been constructed. About seven feet long and two anda half feet wide, with sides four feet high, its beaten earth floor was coveredthickly with dirty straw, damp with its absent occupant's urine and mattedwith his excrement. Two of its side were formed by the brick walls; of theothers, constructed of thick, round, horizontal wooden bars set into sturdycorner posts, the long side had a narrow gate at the end nearest the wall;the short side, facing into the room, formed another gate. A shallow metaltrough was set low down on one of its bars, and a short thick chain hung froma staple set in the gatepost furthest from the wall.

The intention was obviously that the beast's handler would lead her chargeinto its pen through the gate in the long side, closing the gate behind it,then lead it up its pen's narrow length to the already closed gate formingthe short side. There she would bring it to its knees, and tether it by theshort chain. This process would make it unnecessary for the handler to soilher feet in the filthy straw, and the beast could then be led out of the frontgate to its daily drudgery.

. The air in this gloomy little room was thicker than ever, with a heavy zoo-likesmell. There were no windows, ensuring pitch darkness when the dim overheadlight was switched off and the door was closed; nor was there any evident meansof ventilation. Ms Howard, as the beast's owner, shuddered at her thoughtsof conditions here in the Summer.

"He's kept in this pen, Ma'am - chained up of course; and he's fed onthis."

Bessie indicated a corner in which was a tap, a dirty, battered, plastic bucket,a shovel, and an open sack of some dark brown, crumbly material from whichcame a sour reek.

"Animal feed, Ma'am; 'Lean Pig Meal' it's called. It has lots of calories,and the beast's fed four large shovelfuls morning and night. It feeds and drinksfrom the trough set in the front gate of its stall, Ma'am; and from its nose-bag,of course. Oh; and a slave cleans out its pen about once a month; it's almostdue, Ma'am"

Sonia gingerly picked up a handful of the pig-meal in her gloved hand andsniffed at it. "Ugh!" she exclaimed in disgust, tossing it back intothe sack.

"Not terribly appetising, I expect," laughed her Mistress. "Butlet us return to the house to dress for dinner. I'm hungry, and I would likea drink!"

Some hours later, as the two Women sat over their post-prandial Brandies,with Polly fast asleep in her usual position on the hearthrug, curled up likea dog before the fire, Sonia seemed unusually thoughtful. At length, her Mistressremarked on it.

"What on Earth is the matter; Sonia, dear?"

"It's Boy," Sonia confessed with embarrassment. "I can't seemto stop thinking about him."

"How so, dear?"

Sonia leaned forward, a troubled expression on her smooth face.

"It's the contrast, Ma'am,"she explained. "Here we sit in comfortablechairs over our drinks in a warm room, digesting an exquisitely cooked dinner,with warm soft beds waiting for us whenever we chose. I know I'm only yourslave, and I'm being silly, but the image of Boy oppresses me somehow; I imaginehim shivering in the dark on the filthy straw of his pen, his belly full ofpig meal, nothing to look forward to but endless day after day drudgery asa draught animal. He spends his life leaning into a yoke under the whip ora goad, bringing fuel for our warmth, pumping water for our baths, turninga dynamo to bring light for slaves. But he himself is cold, and dirty, andlies in darkness. All his reward for his efforts is to be allowed to rest fora few hours on the sodden, matted straw of his cramped stall."

Ms Howard looked at Her PA fondly.

"Your soft heart does you credit, dear,"She said softly. "Andyou are not only my slave, but also my friend! But you concern yourself needlessly.Boy is an animal, and we are human beings. We use the muscles of animals forour purposes, not theirs; and the payment they get is what we think adequate.Enough food of some kind to enable them to keep working for us, and some minimumshelter; that is sufficient for them. If we keep them in pens lying in theirown ordure - well, conditions which seem intolerable to us are perfectly adequateto them; they know nothing better. Come; let us put on our coats and visithim in his pen: I'll wager we find him peacefully asleep!"

Passing through the kitchen, where they disturbed a tired-looking Millie ather task of cleaning the cooking pans used for dinner, Ms Howard picked upa powerful electric lantern, and led the way into the Arctic cold of the floodlityard. All was silent and still, as, aided by the light of a full moon, theycame to the barn where the males were kept. They opened the door and entered,making their way past the cages where the drowsy male slaves, shivering undertheir thin blankets, stared at them in surprise and fear. Ignoring them, theycame to the door of Boy's prison. Ms Howard opened it, and lit heir way inside.

Standing before his pen, she saw she had been right; Boy was asleep in hisnarrow stall. He lay on his side, facing the wall, curled up against the cold,the short tether chain attached to his nose-ring lying in the straw, his broad,muscular back towards them so they could see the welts and scars on his dirt-encrustedskin. Blind as he was, he seemed totally undisturbed by their sudden presence;though occasionally he twitched like a dog in his sleep as they watched. Thefoetid zoo-smell was almost palpable, until at last Sonia could bear it nolonger and retreated hastily into the relatively clean air of the barn.

Her Mistress closed the door softly, and led her companion out into the fresh,icy air where she waited a little for her PA to recover before comforting herand taking her back to the warmth of the Dining Room. There she poured Brandyfor them both, pressing a glass into Sonia's trembling fingers.

"There, there; dear," she soothed. "It was the smell that upsetyou. But you shouldn't mind that; animals kept in sties and pens DO smell.And Boy doesn't mind...if he even notices after all this time!"

Sonia composed herself.

"Yes, Ma'am; I've been foolish," she admitted. "I expect Boyhas long forgotten any other life from that which he has now."

"Exactly, dear," agreed her Mistress. "Now let's get to bed;I'll wake Polly."

Rising and going to the hearthrug, she poked Polly gently in her ribs withthe pointed toe of her shoe. "Wake up, dear!" she said softly.

Polly woke, rose, and stretched like a dog in her thin linen tunic.

"Go and lay out my nightwear; Mistress Sonia's too!" ordered herMistress. "Go to bed, Sonia dear...Get into your basket in my bedroom,Polly, and go back to sleep....I'll stay up for a little."

"If you're sure, Mistress," began her PA hesitantly.

"I am; dear! Quite sure!" Ms Howard grinned a dismissal at her devotedslave and personal friend of many years standing.

Soia and Polly withdrew, leaving their Mistress to her thoughts. She refilledher glass and stared into the embers of the fire. Lazily she debated rousinga slave to bring in more logs from the frosty outdoors, then decided againstit. Instead she turned her thoughts to the long struggle she'd had with herfellow Sisters about the vexed issue of the desirability of using male slaves.Ever since its foundation the Sisterhood had used only females slaves. Maleswere impossible to tame, it was agreed; they were brutes, ineradically dirty,violent and treacherous. She savoured the memory of refuting this age-old wisdom;when she had produced Boy at their Committee Meeting on the large, isolatedfarm of one of the most determined of her opponents, the Lady Edna. Boy hadbeen her 'dog' then, she fondly recalled. His arms had not yet been amputated,and he followed her everywhere on all-fours as she'd trained him to. But shehad already gifted him with his prosthetic muzzle which enbled him to eat directlyfrom the floor at need; and it was in this guise that she'd introduced him,naked, collared, leashed, and thoroughly tamed, to the company.

She grinned at her recollection of the Lady Annette's indignation. Much thepoorest of the assembled Ladies, she was allowed into the Sisterhood becauseshe was a Veterinary, and thus suitable for the medical treatment of theirslaves. She was also a militant feminist, and a devoted enemy of the male sex.She'd spluttered her into her aperitif. 'How on earth can you possibly be confident,Lady Howard' (here she'd grinned nastily as she used the formal honorific)' that your male thing is really tame? And aren't you being forward in doingthis? The Sisterhood has not even agreed on the principle of male slavery,let alone permitted Sisters to take male slaves yet!' She'd leant back in herseat with a smile of satisfaction at this thrust. Ms Howard was quick to riposte.'In the first place' she'd replied, ' I have broken no rule of the Sisterhood.For my male thing - as you're pleased to call it - is not a slave, but an animalI have tamed. It is docile and obedient; and I shall prove it should any Ladyhere doubt my word!' But no-one did, though a stir went through the group,and a general muttering arose. 'The trick is,' she'd explained, 'to selectthe right male in the first place. This one' (and here she'd run her fingersthrough Boy's hair as he sat attentively on his haunches by her chair) ' wasvery carefully selected over a period of months of intensive psychologicalstudy for incipient and actual submissiveness. There are not many males likethis, agreed; but there ARE many males in the world!'

'A costly and laborious process!' a Lady remarked, her tone lightly dismissive.'And why, precisely, should we want male slaves when we can so easily obtainthe more naturally submissive females?'

For answer Ms Howard had gone to the large window overlooking the sodden winterfields and pointed outwards at the dreary prospect, where, under a cold, steadydrizzle, a half dozen female slaves laboured for their Mistresses under theweeping sky, each one's sole garment of coarse sacking (the only one they owned)soaked under the rain, their bare legs and feet heavy with the cold mud.

'Out there!' Ms Howard had thundered. 'That is why we need male slaves! Wehave exploited our female slaves long enough. They may be slaves, but theyare of our Sex - they are Women! Why should we make them labour, hungry andcold, when we can enslave males to do this? Even our lowest females slavesshould be under shelter, warm and dry, supervising and directing their maleunderlings!'

The assembly was deeply impressed, only the Lady Annette spoke out in denial.

'Sisters!'she cried. 'All these years we have been agreed on the undesirabilityof taking males for our slaves! Are we now to overthrow years of prudence onthe evidence of the tameness of the one single male beast the Lady Howard hasproduced?'

' I had not finished explaining the taming process,' Ms Howard had said, hervoice low and authoritive. 'In addition to selecting the right type of naturallysubmissive male, technological advances have made it possible to secure fulland instant obedience by the simple insertion of a micro-chip into the paincentre of the beast's brain. Then the use of this' (and here she'd produceda tiny silver tube) 'inflicts instant, paralysing, agony.' She'd passed thetube around them for their examination, and had gone into some technical detailabout its workings.

Her audience had been impressed, her appeal to their common Femininity withtheir slaves had made them feel uncomfortable; even her Hostess, Lady Edna,seemed to be coming around.

But the male-hating Lady Annette was not! Seeing her cause in danger, sheinstantly began a second line of attack. 'I suggest a Special Comittee be setup,' she'd proposed, 'to decide on, when and if the owning of male slaves ispermitted, the exact status of these males with their female fellow slaves,and any further restraints upon their behaviour which may be considered necessary.'Ms Howard had seen at once the strategy hidden behind this innocent seemingproposal. Managed properly, the Special Committee's recommendations and requirementscould be made so onerous that the use of male slaves would become more troublethan it was worth. But that had not happened; the other Sisters had eitherbeen convinced by her eloquence, or the age of male slaves had finally arrived.The compulsory restraints on males were severe compared to those on females,of course; feminine suspicion of the male temperament remained, and alwayswould.

Ms Howard frowned. It had been some time since she'd had a male 'adapted'for its future of slavery. What exactly needed to be done to it to satisfythe requirements?

A male slave wore a heavy welded steel collar, and was hobbled at all timesto restrict his mobility. His only garment - if his Mistress allowed him oneat all - was to be a short, coarse sacking skirt. He had to be leashed whenled to his tasks, and tethered when not actually engaged in them. He had tobe caged when off duty. When put to work, he must be under the close and constantsupervison of a Woman at all times. The compulsory surgery carried out on himbefore he was acceptable as a slave included cutting his vocal chords to preventcommunication with other males and, to restrict the use of his hands to thecrude lifting, carrying, and pushing which were all that were needed from him,his thumbs were removed and his fingers fused together, after which he wasunable to cope with simple actions like untying a knot, or even opening thedog clip on his leash. And then there was that particular compulsory surgeryshe had so passionately opposed, Ms Howard reflected ruefully. The Lady Agatha,with her all-consuming hatred of the male sex, had insisted on the castrationof male slaves in order to make them more placid. And of male animals too,she'd concluded with a triumphant glance at Ms Howard. How she had protestedat this outrage, she thought sadly. Poor Boy! In vain she'd demonstrated, overand over again, his complete docility and obedience; in vain she'd insistedon his tameness! (Her reluctance to have him mutilated in this manner was strange,she thought; after all, she'd never had any intention of allowing him to mate.In fact, she doubted whether he'd ever mated as a human being; he HAD beena very shy, gauche young man. And now he never would!) After a heroic resistanceto the demands of her peers she'd been forced to watch him being gelded byher old enemy one cold, wet day three years ago. She recalled the event perfectly.She and Annette, both tight-lipped and terse, accompanied by Annette's slaveSusan carrying her Mistress's bag of instruments, had walked together in silencethat rainy morning over the muddy yard to the shed where Boy was yoked to thewater wheel. She'd had no male slaves then, and Bessie herself was obligedto keep Boy to his labour. They'd found her sitting on a crate, her whip inher hand, watching Boy's sightless steady progress around the endless circlehe was confined to. At a gesture from her Mistress Bessie had pulled on thebrake; Boy, as he always did, panicked for a moment at his sudden forced slowing,in terror lest the whip descend on his back. He had then stood in his restposition, unmoving and unseeing, neck and shoulders bowed under his heavy,sweaty yoke, seemingly oblivious of their presence. It had been mercifullyquick however; a short spray around his groin from an aerosol containing alocal anaesthetic, a deft movement of Agatha's scalpel, and Boy's testicleslay in the filthy mud at his feet. At a sad nod from Ms Howard, Bessie broughtdown her whip across Boy's haunches and he was once again in motion, leavinghis Mistress only the consolation that his ordeal had been quick and painless;that he was, after all, only an animal, and that he probably wouldn't evenknow or understand what had been done to him.

She looked at the ormulu mantel clock; one am already! She sipped the lastof her drink and rose. In her bedroom she undressed slowly and put on her nightwear,then, after an affectionate glance at the large dog basket in the corner inwhich Polly lay curled naked in sleep, she climbed into her warm bed.

Her last thoughts before sleep were of Boy. Hazily she debated getting anothersuch beast to share his labours; she would start the process in motion tomorrow,she thought drowsily; but she would not buy in, instead she would select andtame her new animal herself, just as she had with Boy. And look how well thathad turned out, she thought as she slid at last into slumber.

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