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Lisa is given an old farm in the middle of nowhere.

She took them to her X5 and opened the tailgate. Miss Worthing was the first to go in followed by Jim. It was quite cramped and they were squashed together. Jim tried to move to a more comfortable position but, in doing so, fell heavily on Miss Worthing with his head landing on her breasts which earned him a scornful stare. He was all too aware that it was his fault that Miss Worthing was being put through these indignities and he wondered what reprisals were coming his way.

It wasn't more than five minutes later than they were pulling up outside Mrs Johnson's house and she jumped out and went round to open up the tailgate.

"Here we are, now we can get down to business. Isn't this fun. Come along," Mrs Johnson said brightly as she helped them out of the car and led them around the side of the house. As they made their way into the back garden Jim was again struck by the difference between Kathy and Miss Worthing as pony-girls. Kathy had had a certain amount of aptitude but grace had eluded her. Miss Worthing, on the other hand, even with the hobble, moved her whole body in a fluid, natural way that was both elegant and stylish. Maybe it was the added height from the boots, maybe is was the tail which cascaded down behind her, maybe it was the way her backside swayed as she walked but Jim felt he had never seen anything so beautiful or, for that matter, so erotic.

When they got to the garden Jim noticed that the blue holdall was already in place next to the sun loungers beside the pool; Mrs Johnson had obviously been well prepared. He was taken to the edge of the patio where he was told to kneel and wait. Then Mrs Johnson took Miss Worthing to the centre of the lawn, removed the hobble and letting out the reins. Calling out one command after another she put Miss Worthing through her paces, both figuratively and literally, much as Amanda had done with Kathy but, once again, the contrast was stark. It would seem that neither woman was a stranger to this and, whilst Mrs Johnson was calling out steps and manoeuvres with names based in real equine dressage, Miss Worthing was responding with practised grace and style. However it was not good enough for Mrs Johnson who was constantly finding fault and keeping score.

"That will do." She said at last. "I make it twenty seven faults, so that's twenty seven strokes with the crop but that can wait; all this pony work has made me thirsty. I think it's time for a drink and, as it's Helga's day off, you're going to fetch it for me. But, just to make it interesting, I think it should be a group effort, both of you going to get it so, first, a little re-arranging."

'A little re-arranging' turned out to be quite major. Firstly the boots were removed from Miss Worthing's feet. Then Jim was brought to stand face to face with her so that they were nearly touching. Then the hobble was re-applied but this time it held Miss Worthing's left thigh to Jim's right. Another one fitted to the other side locked them together thigh-to-thigh, stomach-to-stomach, groin-to-groin. Then their wrists were freed only to be re-fastened to each other as if in some strange parody of dancing partners, definitely cheek to cheek. A final strap, placed just under the armpits and running right around them, held them so that every part of their bodies, from their knees to their shoulders, were locked together in a tight embrace.

"There, isn't that sweet. Now you have five minutes to fetch me a lemonade and lime. For every minute over it will be one more blow with the crop so I suggest you get moving.

Jim tried, he really tried, to be as helpful as he could but they were never going to be anything but clumsy.

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