PUSH AND PULL
James and Jenn were happy. It was a sign of the times. Fortune had smiled on them. James married Jenn and they had been working on the little hobby farm for five years. The farm was much larger in Jenn’s grandfather's day but they had made a gradual shift to a greener, smaller hobby farm.
Some of the workers were not thrilled with the reduction in size. They slowly lay off a number of employees with a generous severance package. Kenny was let go even though he claimed that her grandfather had sold him part of the farm. No proof could be found. Jenn’s parents retired to the east coast after her dad had a heart attack, leaving the farm to her, to do as she wished. A wedding present.
Solar and wind farm. Some chicken for eggs they could sell at market. They leased out the land to where they had a comfortable living at their ranch. Peaches and apples in the summer. Sweet corn. Honey and mead. All sold at the farmers market. They had a line of credit in every store in town. They were not rich, by any means. They paid the bills and were not in debt.
James was good with his hands and Jenn was not half bad with a needle. They had tried to expand their little farm but no luck. So they had to make do. Middle-middle class Jenn called it.
It was when the little farm tractor broke down, it was old and parts would not be available for a few weeks. A new one was expensive. More than the budget would allow. They had to move the feed wagon by hand, with James pulling and Jenn pushing. They managed. In a rather playful move Jenn ‘whipped’ at James. As they got ready for bed that night. James whinnied and pretended to be a stallion and Jenn his mare. They never had delved into role play and they found they liked it.
A few days passed and this became routine.
The farm used to be a place where they raised show ponies. But the cost was prohibitive. Jenn knew how to ride but horses were expensive and had to give it up when her father had his heart attack. When she and mom started running the farm and making the hard choices, they could not run such a large acreage. Thus the hobby farm was born; trying to live ninety percent off the grid.
All that was left was the workshops; tack room; enclosed parade grounds and paddock. So one night in the late fall, Jenn raided the tack room and made a little halter and bridle. James found it an incredible turn on. Two days later James was sporting the same headgear.
Winter was coming, and the farmers market was closed. Parts for the little tractor were on backorder. Which oddly suited them fine because it gave them an excuse for more pony role play.
Online they found people who were into much more than they were. The lure of it was strong; having it so accepted by people who seem normal in everyday life. Like having a secret identity. “Letting your freak flag fly,” as it were.
As the weather got colder and wetter they dressed for it. But they were rather isolated and had been stocking up for a bad winter. Their nearest neighbor was ten miles away; a drive into town was thirty miles. They made a trip into town only if they needed to. Usually on the first of the month.
Weeks went by and the tack and gear became more and more extreme. James enjoyed crafting the necessary tack. They had begun to craft their pony names. James was letting his normal dark short hair grow out; Jenn had her long brunette locks made into a pony-tail.
Harnesses were made, and it did help pull the feed wagon. Horse shoes or a hoof boot, fashioned from old foot wear with a reinforced hoof. The horseshoe on the ice, with the metal shoes nailed into them, made working in the ice more manageable.
Looking online, the bondage aspect had a great deal of influence on them both. Dressing up and parading around the enclosed paddock was a huge thrill, imagining they were being judged. Then the imagined story would take a sinister twist: they were kidnapped and made into ponies, compelled by some magic spell. The magic hour was Saturday at six pm, ending at Sunday morning 6am. A “Ladyhawke” sort of curse, as Jenn called it. They would parade around or chase each other, then spoon or cuddle. Precautions were always taken when they mated.
At Jenn’s urging, James began to fashion bondage gear. Some pieces took longer to make than others. They took inspiration from other online resources, like a rubber-wrapped rod to form a bit for their bridles. They could drink, and eating was a chore but feasible. Gloves formed a crude hoof for the hands; more like thumbless mittens. Thermal underwear formed their ‘hides’. His were black, and white for her. He became Night Wind, and she transformed into White Star.
When done playing their roles, at the end of the magic hours, they had a feeling of satisfaction and contentment. Then the means of locking their harnesses and hoof wear on came into play. The hoof gloves could be pulled off and on with minor difficulty. Keys for the locks were around the other person’s necks. Thus they could not free themselves, but that did not stop them locking harnesses and footwear on.
Bells and other finery were added, as the snows of winter settled about them. The paddock, being closed and having a fine sand and sawdust floor, made an excellent play area. It was heated and air conditioned. Rubber mats were added, and a number of horse blankets came out of storage. Jenn then used her phone and played prerecorded music and ‘commands’ from their ‘masters’.
It was a few weeks before Christmas when Jenn - always the instigator of their play - suggested some sort of trap. A means that would keep them separated until midnight. A hoist or pulley that would keep them apart until the appointed hour.
It took a number of tries and some online consulting, but he had it. He was rather proud of it. Chain leads connected them to their respective collars and harnesses. The chain threaded through a number of metal loops, bolted securely into the circumference of the cement wall. There was a point where the chain transitioned to a rope connected to a pulley system. A fifty five gallon metal drum, filled with all manner of scrap and water. weighing over seven hundred pounds, was the counter-weight. He got the idea from Jenn’s family grandfather clock.
Once secured apart from each other, a pull on the rope would release the weight and it would take up the slack, pulling them apart a good ten yards. They could each get to their own ‘feed’ and water, and a commode was ready for each. If James tried to get to Jenn, she would be pulled away, unless she could work with him to help lift the seven hundred plus pound barrel.
The water would slowly leak out, and only weigh two hundred pounds when done. Timing was the trick. The winter weather freezing the bottom with a layer of ice would help, but to be at midnight, a timer was added that would release a counter-weight, lifting the barrel, giving them the slack they needed. James tested this a dozen times, even adding a battery backup. They could remove the hoof hands but each had the other keys. So they would still be ‘trapped.’ The rope was too far down the chain line to be released or cut to free themselves.
They spent Christmas dinner with friends and secretly hiding their enchanted time. For Christmas, their ‘cruel masters’ had granted them a reprieve. Or so they imagined: neither knew what cruel fate awaited them in seven days. At least that was the story Jenn cooked up. Their New Year’s Eve plans only made them more ‘frisky’ having skipped a week. For Christmas they gave each other fur ‘muffs’ for legs and arms. His were black-bodied with white ‘hooves’, hers were all black, to contrast her white body.
One more added feature: a hobble for their legs. A restraint for their hands was considered but they passed on that; the hoof mitten would have to do.
In the center of the paddock, they dressed each other. They secured the locks, and waited for an alarm from Jenn’s phone to ring the beginning of the bewitching hour. When they were ready, together they pulled on the rope. The weight dropped slowly; they tried vainly to hold onto each other, but slowly and forcibly they were pulled away from each other, whining and crying, staying in character. Each tried to come to the other, straining against their leads and harnesses, but as planned, the weight was too much to overcome.
Neither had been forced to stay apart from each other before in their lives. This separation felt personal. Now they could only stare at each other, longing to feel and touch one another. Ten yards might as well be ten miles. Both felt a personal longing; never had they been so determined to be with the other.
Music started to play from Jen’s phone. Now they had to match and prance as they had many times before. But usually they were with arms reach. They had a routine choreographed and automatically fell into the routine. Anything to ‘appease’ their ‘masters’ and occupy their time, waiting for the magic hours to speed by.
Each had their own separate water and feeding stations. After an hour the music would stop and a pre-recorded voice said ‘rest’ and ‘feed’. So they drank and rested. Somehow both felt odd. But they both fell asleep.
When their senses returned, waking up they found their hands and elbows bound behind them. Ropes around the waist and between the legs, and their arms were lashed in place.
Lording over them was Kenny. They knew they were in trouble. Kenny had been watching them for weeks. He noticed their weekly overnight trips into the paddock. He knew his way around the farm and in the dead of the night saw them in their role play.
He made plans and used their Christmas break to doctor the pans they used for water. A dried clear sedative that would knock them out when water was added. Kenny knew all the tricks for administering drugs to horses, He had some veterinary background. He knew his ropes and knots. They now had a new master. A far worse one. A real one.
He disabled the counter-weight, and took the keys off both their necks. He then let Jen’s phone take over. Following the program of one hour on, two hours off. Kenny had a shock wand he found in the tack room. It was one of the reasons why he was let go. He had gotten cruel and mean as the years went by. Bitter for her grandfather not living up to his end of the bargain. A bargain that was never made Now with the threat of being shocked they were in a bad way, and Kenny knew he had them.
Midnight came and went and they were unable to reach each other. Still bound as ponies. Kenny left them to their own devices. Morning came. Kenny came and hooked Jenn to the small feed wagon then James.
He gave James a small touch with the shock wand when he tried to resist. Then hit Jenn with it. He also made a promise, one he urgently made good on. “If one misbehaves, both get punished.”
Kenny worked them hard and was not afraid to use a real whip. Their fantasy had become a harsh reality, as the weeks crawled by. The winter storms had been the worst in years. They were snowed in. What few calls they got were screened by Kenny, or had Jenn answer with the shock wand inches from James’s balls.
Most people in town knew Kenny and he told them the tale he had been hired back. Because they had kept it quiet, Kenny could say anything and get away with it. James and Jenn were ‘occupied’ or had taken a vacation.
Kenney had replaced their bindings with a wide leather belt and manacles he made. He added weights to their ankles. He ensured he secured Jenn first because she put up the least fight, if at all. Kenny figured if he had one, he had both.
James fell into line quickly. Months of shaping and becoming what they had imagined was slowly taking root, mentally and physically. Kenny had found Jenn’s notes and begun calling them their pony names. He knew how to train horses and used those very same tactics on them, the carrot and stick approach. Also, by ensuring they could not have each other in an intimate way and resisting temptation himself, he avoided some obstacles. Thus the desire for each of them to mate was another level of control. He would always find an excuse for them not to be intimate with each other. Winter turned to spring. Spring turned into summer.
Kenny was very pleased with himself. In a way he had got what he wanted: the farm, such as it was, was his. He was able to wreak revenge on his rival’s siblings. What more could he ask for?
Kenny delighted in finding ways to make their lives full of toil and hardship. He even used six three-foot rods, attached to their neck, waist and legs, to make them work back to back; a push-me pull-you. Or he would have them dragging a sledge about, or him in the feed cart; anything that would make them suffer as ponies.
When it came time to change or upgrade their gear, he would hog tie the one. Usually Jenn first. Then drug James with a light sedative. James behaved, knowing Kenny could hurt Jenn. James would be loopy and did not put up a fight as it was Jenn’s turn to get upgraded.
Kenny knew all it would take was one mistake, one slip and his little paradise would come crashing down. Then in late summer, he was on his way back from town when he got a surprise: the county sheriff and a state trooper were at the ranch waiting for him.
Jenn’s parents had come for a surprise visit, and discovered their plight. Kenny was arrested. The courtroom drama was a he-said she-said affair. Sympathy for James and Jenn was overwhelming, and there was talk of a movie and novels. But they would not repeat their experience outside the courtroom; they wanted a quiet life.
Around town they were never more than an arm’s length away from each other, always holding hands. You could see them going to a public restroom. One would wait just outside for the other. They had a love and devotion that only could be described as all-consuming. A deep love that could only be imagined in romance novels.
Kenny went to jail. He would never be let out, and was never heard from again. James and Jenn stayed at the ranch and were local celebrities. They were free. Or where they?
Every Saturday, just six hours before midnight, Night Wind and White Star came out. The magic spell was stronger than ever...