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*   	Winning The Lottery			*
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copyright is, please email evault@mailcity.com

But, a session in the Jacuzzi and a moderate session with Ike
whipping Mary rejuvenated them.  He was careful not to strike her
still heavily marked ass.  Back in her chastity belt and with her
bondage bra on, they went to a play and dinner, and then back to
their hotel.

The next day, they were off to France, where they went to see the
dungeon in the Bastille.  While there were no wax figures in or
on any of the engines, these were the real devices.  Blood stains
were still visible on the base of a guillotine.  Marks from
fingernails in the wood of pilars used to secure people for
whippings were eloquent in describing the agony of those under
those whips.

>From Paris, they went to Morocco.  Here they went to a modern day
slave trading auction.  Ike had been warned it was dangerous to
take Mary to such a place, for she would fetch a nice price.  But
they were determined, so one of their friends directed them to
one of the actual traders who agreed to protect them.

Discreetly concealed from the bidders, Mary watched an auction. 
In a burnoose, Ike was out in the crowd.  The poor wretches who
were to be sold were about equally divided between men and women,
but they were a sorry lot.  Mary couldn't tell what the prices
were but it didn't seem as if anyone was happy with the outcome. 
She had lost sight of Mike out in the open, and was beginning to
wonder could she go look for him, when suddenly, a hand clasped
over her mouth and another over her breasts.  When she attempted
to struggle, she felt other hands grasp her ankles.  Panic
stricken, she flayed out, but found she was well secured in the
grasp of these people.  Momentarily, a thought flashed through
her mind about the futility of all that body building pain she
had endured over the years; but then the terror returned.  

She felt her ankles and legs being tied, and then that tieing
went on up her body.  A black cloth was pulled over her head, and
then on down her body.  Her arms and mouth were free, and she did
her best to battle with both, but the bag was too secure and her
screams, grunts and yells had absolutely no effect.

The next sensation she had was of being carried in a horizontal
mode through corridors and around corners.  There was talking
around her, and even laughter; and once she thought she even
heard women laughing.  She felt herself being placed down on
something, and she thought she understood a car trunk lid being
closed on her.  When the motor started and the car began to move,
she knew she was going for a ride.  It was futile to attempt to
recall the turns as she had no idea where she had started from.

The drive felt like it had left the city for the open road, as
speed seemed to pick up and there were fewer turns or stops. 
This part of the trip seemed to last for a quarter hour.  Mary
was glad for the diversion of trying to analyze the ride as it
kept her mind off the terror.

The ride was back in a built up area again, and very soon it came
to a stop altogether.  The trunk was opened, and she was quickly
hoisted out and carried somewhere.  Then she was put down.  A
door closed.  Nothing happened, and she could hear nothing. 
Tentatively, she tried to move.  Nothing happened to her.  She
attempted more movement, and noticed a glimmer of light.  The bag
was open; in a moment, she was out of it.

Her prison was a small room with a dirt floor.  One small cot was
all the furniture, if you excluded the pot and basin in the
corner.  One small light bulb was in a ceiling fixture, providing
the only illumination in the room.  There were no windows and but
one door, without a knob.  She stood by the door, listening, but
could hear nothing.  She considered pounding on the door, and
yelling for someone to set her free, but she reasoned that was
not likely and the yelling might get her into trouble.

Well, she thought, this is one hell of a fix.  She wasn't even
sure if Ike was aware she was gone.  Where had he gone?  Had
something happened to him too?  And she began to weep.  Not wail,
but just a steady, convulsive sobbing.

How long this continued she was not sure.  It was interrupted by
the door opening.  A man in a burnoose stood there in front of
her when she raised her eyes.

He said Good Day Mary Elise.  With a start, she realized he had
called her by her given name.  She never used it.  No one called
her that except her Mother.  And then she reasoned, he had her
passport.

The man then proceeded to explain what had happened.  White women
were highly sought after in this part of the world.  She was to
be sold, of course, and as quickly as possible.  No doubt she was
hoping to find some way to escape, and he encouraged her in her
thinking -- it helped to pass the time and kept the spirits up. 
Would her husband be able to enlist the aid of the American
Embassy -- sure, but to what end?  She had just dropped out of
sight, and would stay out of sight for as long as her owners
wanted.  Did she start at the fact she was now owned? -- she had
best come to grips with that for that was a fact.  For how long?
-- that was a decision to be made by her eventual owner.  Some
slaves were released after a time; others were sold again and
again, but each successive sale was to a lesser position.

As he anticipated her questions, and then answered them, she
alternately stared and glared at him in amazement.  She
vacillated between this couldn't be happening and when would the
charade end to this has happened and I'll never see Ike or the
girls again.

She came out of her self pity to hear the man acknowledging her
chastity belt with approval.  That would enhance her value at the
sale, which would be the very next day.  She was a hot commodity,
and the quicker she was sold, the better he would like it.

With an abruptness that startled and disappointed her, he was
gone.  So long as he was talking, she had a grip, albeit minor,
on reality.  Now, alone in the Spartan room, despair began to
creep in.  But, being a practical sort of person, she realized
her future was beyond this room, so the best thing to do would be
to try to get some rest.

A torrent of some language raised her to consciousness.  She was
jerked upright and pushed out the door.  She gave a single
thought to bolting, but seeing the armed guard at the end of the
corridor ahead of her ended that notion.  She was prodded into a
second room where there was a tub and an old crone, who motioned
her into the tub. 

The water was warm, and she was allowed to relax in it for
several minutes.  Then, the old crone began to soap her up, skin
and hair.  Mary was a little put-off when the old woman began to
soap her breasts; it had been a very long time since another
female had touched her there.

Within an hour, she was scrubbed and coiffed.  She actually felt
pretty good.  She was fed, and thus, under other circumstances,
she would have felt quite pleased with herself.

The man who talked to her the day before now came for her, and
asked her to come with him.  He said that he would put handcuffs
on her to discourage any idea of running.  He felt no concern
that she might trip for he was reasonably sure she had worn cuffs
often.  [Damn that chastity belt, she thought.  That's how he
knows.]  Thus, she was startled when he continued to talk, saying
it wasn't just the chastity belt she was wearing but just her
whole demeanor. . .she had been born to wear handcuffs!  [Christ,
she wondered, how can somebody be "born" to wear handcuffs?  And
then she answered her own question -- I really am born to wear
them because I damn well want to wear them.]

After turning several corners, she found herself in the room
where yesterday's auction had been held.  She knew it from the
way it looked, but she also saw where she had watched the
proceedings the day before.  She looked at her escort
questioningly, and he smiled as he nodded.  Yes, he said to her,
the ride in the car trunk was bogus, just to confuse her and to
make her less resistant.  She wanted to be angry, but at whom and
for what, so she merely shrugged.  The man led her to a pole
where there was a chain with an open collar.  He put the collar
around her neck and locked it, and then left her.

There stood Mary Elise, naked but for a metal chastity belt, with
a collar on her neck and chained to a post in a slave market in
Morocco.  Now what?

"What" was soon answered, as some men began to drift into the
slave market.  There were curious stares directed her way, and
she tried to hide her nudity.

When fifteen or so men were milling about, the man who had talked
to her came back.  In a conversational tone, in a language she
did not understand, he addressed the men in the market.  The
listened very seriously, and then grins came over them.  Some
even laughed out loud.  They turned to her with renewed interest.

The man then turned to her and told her to stand away from the
pole.  If these men were to be to bid good money for her, they
deserved to see what they were bidding on.  Mary was in a
quandary.  She didn't want to expose herself more; but, she
reasoned, perhaps if she did her buyer might look more kindly on
her.  In the end, vanity prevailed.  She was stacked, and she
knew she was stacked, so she stood away from the pole, threw her
shoulders back and spread her legs slightly.  She was ready to be
sold.

While she didn't understand the language, she was surely able to
understand the auction.  Bidding for her was spirited, and from
the smile on the man's face, she felt the price to be paid for
her would be high.

Finally, the bidding slowed, with only two in the audience
keeping it up.  And then, the man swung his arm to punctuate a
word.  It was over. She had been sold!

To her dismay, everyone then left, including the man who had been
conducting the auction.  She was left as she was: naked, hands
cuffed behind her and a collar holding her to the post.

Time passed.  The chain on her collar was not long enough to
permit her to sit.  

She stood.

And stood.

And stood.

At last, she saw three men coming towards her.  One was the man
who conducted the auction.  He told her that she was to be
prepared for shipment.  He ignored her question as to where she
was to be shipped.  She was unlocked from her post, but her hands
were not freed.  The silent men walked on either side of her
around corners and down corridors.  [She had thought to herself,
she'd never have escaped.  This place was like a lambrythe.]

Finally, they entered a room. There, in the middle, was an old
fashioned steamer trunk, standing on one end and open.  She did
not like what she saw: a small chair built into the base of the
trunk but the two men quickly had her sitting on it.  Then, very
rapidly, leather straps held her at ankles, knees, upper thighs,
waist, chest, arms, and neck.  Her mouth was forced open, and it
was packed with a huge amount of cloth.  Mary had been gagged
before, but this was ridiculous.  She couldn't begin to close her
mouth!  And then, non-stick, hospital tape was wrapped around her
head several times to secure the packing.  On her head, they put
a football-like helmet, and this was in turn strapped to the
sides of the trunk.  Except for the seat bottom, everything was
heavily padded.

The man cautioned her not to worry; her handlers would be most
careful for it would mean their lives if she got so much as a
scratch.  The man who purchased her was very interested in her
safety and good condition.  Besides, the trip would not be a long
one.  With that, he signaled the handlers, and the trunk was
closed.

Mary felt the trunk tip slightly, and then she knew it was on a
small, 2 wheel truck.  She was wheeled away on her journey into
slavery.

Ventilation was adequate, and despite the warnings to her
handlers about her safety, she was jostled enough so that she
would have been marked up pretty badly had it not been for the
rigid pose she was held in.  She knew when she was put on a
jet...the familiar jet fuel odors were very strong.  The take-off
was smooth, and very soon they were airborne.

Wryly, she wondered if this would be a circular flight and she
would end up back in the slave market.  The flight was longer
than the auto ride had been.  

She must have dozed for the screech of the wheels touching down
startled her.

She, that is her trunk, was removed from the plane, and placed on
a truck.  Very soon, she heard what must have been the customs
people inquire as to what was in the trunk.  [Good, she thought,
somebody speaks English around here.]  It pissed her off that she
was referred to as old clothes and second hand books.  But, there
was no mistaking the stamp of approval of the customs person, and
the continuation of the journey.

The trunk was placed on a truck, and the rid was slow.  Even so,
she rocked quite a bit. Thank God I don't get seasick, she
thought.

Ultimately, the ride stopped, and she (in her trunk) was placed
on the ground.  She heard the hasps and locks on the trunk being
undone, and then the trunk was opened.  She wondered what her
purchaser would look like.

He had a very long beard!  Ike!  What the hell?

And then she saw some of the others from the party in London, and
she knew it had all been a very elaborate hoax.  Even the man who
conducted the auction was there.

The immediate relief was replaced by extreme anger, but that
quickly turned to joy.  Ike was hurriedly removing her gag and
undoing the straps that held her in her trunk.  When at last she
was free, she stood up and fell into his arms.

That evening, the events of the past three days were explained to
her.  She was loudly complimented on her pose during the auction. 
Other subs who had gone through it had turned into whimpering,
whining wretches, but not Mary: she had pride and pizazz!

Her only question was to inquire the true amount that was the
winning bid.

There were embarrassed and then sheepish looks, before the
auctioneer stated she had fetched eleven and a half cents.

There was silence, and then she started to giggle, and that
turned to guffaws, and she really did pee her pants [well, that
is, she would have peed her pants if she had any on].

This whole event had been the special part of the trip that had
been added on.  She smiled benignly at all, and admitted it was
very well done, and she held no grudges [but she had her fingers
crossed when she said no grudges].

It happened that they were exactly where their itinerary said
they should be.  It was an African game preserve, the hotel in
the trees.  Here tourists were in the cage, and the wildlife had
the run of the preserve.  Residents could look out their window
at the wildest of wildest Africa.

In residence at the hotel were several primates.  All were for
sale.  One in particular took a liking to Mary, a reddish haired
Orangutan, who looked a lot like the Clyde of the Clint Eastwood
movies.  

One nite, Mary and Ike were sitting in the glassed-in lounge,
overlooking the jungle below, at twilight, when the nocturnal
animals began to come out to hunt.  The Orangutan came and sat by
Mary, and very calmly reached his arm over her shoulder and
cupped her breast!  She was too startled to move, and then she
saw that Ike was laughing so hard, he could barely get his
breath.  She demanded to know what was so fucking funny, and he
recalled for her a computer adult image where a chimp was
squeezing a woman's boob, all the while smiling that toothy grin. 
She got laughing too, and the Orangutan chimed in too.

One of the attendants came over to see what was the fuss.  Both
Ike and Mary spoke as one that there was no fuss.  Then, Mary
asked the price of the Orangutan, and when told what it was, she
said to Ike she wanted it to take home.  She said she'd call the
beast Bernie in honor of a friend they both had.  For some
reason, the Orangutan chose that moment to really squeeze harder,
and Mary squeaked, and Ike, laughing so hard that tears were
running down his face, came over to help separate Bernie from his
wife's tit.

What they thought would be wildly erotic, observing men and women
having sex with various animals, turned to be a bummer.  Oh, they
watched women fuck ponies and donkeys, a man had a snake pushed
up his ass, women fucked everything imaginable: goats, dogs,
pigs.  It just didn't work for them.

That nite, Mary wondered if Bernie had been trained in the same
place.  They laughed.  

The next day, Bernie was crated for shipment to the USA, and they
continued their trip to East Africa.  Here they were guests of
local business people.  The blacks were in the process of taking
over, or had already taken over the government.  Even so, on
private land, servants and others were brought for corrections of
behavior.

To Mary, it was just like the penal flogging that they had seen
at Madame Troussaud's.  The man or woman was secured to a pilar
around which they tried to wrap their arms -- some men could, but
most men could not and none of the women could.  The executioner
then was told how many strokes were thought to be correct for the
problem, and they were administered with a bull pizzel.  None
whose back was caressed with the bull prick escaped without at
least a bead of blood; some displayed a great deal of blood.  The
most serious infraction, stealing from the lady of the house, got
the accused seven strokes.  His back was a bloody mess when he
was taken down.

As they stood there, watching, Mary felt a growing heat in her
loins.  This was, by far, the most serious CP she had ever seen. 
Finally, she whispered in Ike's ear she had to be able to grasp
that pillar while that pizzel was applied to her back.  He looked
at her with concern.  Never before would there have been such a
serious application.  The likelihood that she would be marked was
nearly 100%; that the marks would be permanent was better than
50%.  He expressed his reservations with regret: he knew that she
wanted it, but he was fearful.  She acknowledged his concern, and
she agreed with him; yet, the fire in her pussy was nearly
overwhelming.  Never had she felt such a need to feel a whip.

And so, it was arranged.  When all the punishments had been meted
out for the day, one of their friends approached the executioner. 
With much gesticulating, and glances at Mary and Ike, but more at
Mary, the executioner finally nodded.  Their friend came to them
and said it was arranged.  But Mary refused to move towards the
post.  With some impatience, their friend inquired if she wasn't
serious, and she replied that she was utterly serious, and that
she wanted to be reassured that the executioner was not going to
soften his strokes.  Caught in a subterfuge, the friend faltered,
and then he returned to the executioner, who nodded and smiled.

In a thrice, Mary was stripped to her chastity belt, and she
attempted to wrap her arms around the pillar.  She was tied
tightly, and she waited.

Liquid fire erupted on her back.  Oh, shit, she thought.  Ike was
right.  This WAS too much.  She wanted to say stop, but before
she could......

Stroke number 2 wrapped her back in more fire. She KNEW her back
was bleeding in many places.  Thank  God, there would only be....

Stroke number 3 was both the hardest and the last.  She knew she
would never have lived through more.  She simply collapsed in her
bonds.  My God, what have I gotten myself in for.  The mist of
pain had clouded her vision.

Moments later, sitting in a chaise, she re-orientated herself. 
She sat upright, and looked behind her, checking for her blood on
the chair.  There was none.  Perplexed, she looked at Ike, who
shrugged.  [I want to see], she insisted, so a mirror was
brought, and she observed.  

YES, there were three bright red lines.

YES, there were bruises even brighter red where the lines
intersected.

No, there was no blood; and she realized she was disappointed.

>From East Africa, they moved on to Asia, to Ankara, Turkey.  Here
they were taken on a tour of a prison for dangerous prisoners. 
And because they were dangerous, each one of them wore connected
wrist and ankle fetters.  While most were men, there were women
too.  Their uniforms were all alike: a sort of sarong.  It had to
be simple since the chains just did not come off -- there were no
locks, they were riveted on.  Mary and Ike also saw the solitary
confinement area, and it was remarkably like what they had in
their own dungeon.  [As yet, Ike and Mary hadn't made a whole lot
of use of their cells.  That nite, they agreed neither had seen
much to encourage them at this prison to make more than the
occasional use of them.  But then Mary added that being in there
alone was scary, but if Bernie was locked in with her, that might
make it better.  Ike wanted to know if she wanted them in the
same cell, but she said no; she'd want Bernie to be a separate
cell so that when he smelled her juices, he'd be all the more
frustrated.  Ike just shook his head at the diabolical thoughts
his sweet, cuddly loveable wife could come up with.] 

They were quite happy to move on to the next stop in Nepal. 
Although officially outlawed for many, many years, the practice
of settee, the practice of burning the widow --alive-- on the
pyre of her dead husband, was still done in some places.  And
they were going to watch.

Of course, it was necessary to have a corpse, and none were at
hand, so no widow in waiting either.  They had realized that
possibility when they put Nepal on the itinerary, but who knew. 
Their second nite, the couple who were their host and hostess
arranged a small party.  This couple knew Ike and Mary only as
friends of friends who wanted to see settee, if possible; they
did not know of Ike and Mary's D&S.

Thus, both were quite surprised after dinner.  Furniture was
pushed to the side, musicians set up their instruments and the
rug rolled up.  And the very first dancer came in laden with tiny
links, light chains, and began to dance!  Of course, the young
woman was in colorful costume, but there wasn't much of that. 
Mary began to count the chains.  The young woman had a golden
(gold?) collar around her neck, and cuffs of similar material
around her upper arms and wrists, and around her thighs and
ankles.  A belt, also of the same material, encircled her waist.

Starting at the top, the girl had piercings in her eye brows, her
nose, several in each ear, at the top of each shoulder, in her
nipples (these were covered, but with the thinnest veil
imaginable), in her navel, many in her pussy (this too was
theoretically covered), and in her inner thighs.  Tiny chains
connected each of these piercings to each cuff/collar/belt.  On
each chain was a different sized bell that she was able to sound
by just the right muscular action.  Her dance steps were slow,
but the melody she made with her bells was fantastic.

While not exactly erotic, Ike and Mary agreed the dance was
provoking, and especially well done.

The next part of the entertainment was far more violent.  Two
nude, young women duked it out.  They fought with their fists,
they wrestled and the used knives.  At first it had appeared to
be a fairly well choreographed event, but then the fists seemed
to make contact and cause result, the wrestling got more violent,
and it came clear this was for real.  Mary slid to the front of
her chair where she watched intently.  With her body building,
she felt she could buy into this.  These gals were hurting each
other.  Both would be very sore the next day.  But then, when
they picked up knives, Mary didn't know what to think.  The two
women went at each other with the blades with the same reckless
abandon as they had pummeled or threw each other.  If there had
been any doubts about the fighting or wrestling, there could be
none when two cuts were opened on the shoulder of one of the
women.  Mary and Ike finally came to understand: the fighting and
wrestling was to soften each up; the cutting was the way to
victory.  How many cuts would each combatant take, while trying
to cut the other, before herself giving up.

It turned out to be quite a few cuts!  Both were quite bloody,
and moving very slowly when finally one woman backed away and
dropped her knife.  The other immediately dropped hers.  And
then, to the amazement of Mary and Ike, they embraced and kissed.

That nite, Ike and Mary discussed what they had seen.  They were
moved, that was certain; but they were uncertain about their
total reaction.

After a while, that nite, Mary whipped Ike.  While it was very
good, it was clear to both her mind was still partially occupied
by what they had seen.

Two days they waited in Nepal, before finally deciding to go on
to South America.

In Argentina, the world's human pony gathering was taking place. 
Mary's harness and sulky had been shipped directly from the USA,
and was there when they arrived.  After a day of soaking and
resting from the long, tedious journey from Nepal, they went out
to the track.  Here, horse barns had been cleaned out, and in the
stalls were human ponies, haltered just the four legged ones. 
Mary had been assigned a stall in a very new barn, so the odor of
horse shit was not overpowering.  Her harness was in her stall,
and the sulky was just outside.

There were very many nude women ponies, and an equal number of
male ponies about, so Mary was not terribly embarrassed to remove
all her clothing.  The first thing that went on her body was the
pair of special, knee high boots: instead of a normal foot, the
base was rounded and flared out so that it looked like a hoof;
and it sounded like a hoof too.  Ike then began the task of
putting her harness on her.  A very wide leather belt was first. 
Straps from this belt went up over each shoulder and rejoined the
belt in back.  Similar straps connected through her groin.  Wide
bands went around her thighs, and these two connected to the
waist belt.  Her wrists were cuffed, and these were secured to
the back of the waist belt.  A very high, rigid collar went
around her neck.  This gave her minimal movement of her head,
unless she bent her whole upper body.  On her head went a bridle
like collection of straps: one around her head like a head band,
one over her head at the temples and under her chin, a bit for
her mouth secured by two straps running behind her head and each
of these secured to the over the top strap.  A plume of ostrich
feathers was secured to the top of her bridle.  And then, the
part she liked least, Ike pushed a butt plug into her out of
which a clump of horse hair stuck so it looked like she had a
tail.

Like that, Ike lead her to an exercise path, and required that
she walk, then trot, then run, then trot, then walk.  Once into
it, Mary enjoyed herself.  She worked up a nice sheen of
perspiration, and was really into being harnessed and required to
act like a pony.  Being naked, outside, added to her zest; and
seeing others harnessed in similar fashion, doing the same things
she was doing, was exciting.  When that thought dawned on her,
she wondered what the hell is happening to me.  And she answered
her own question: she didn't enjoy being nude in a crowd so much
as she enjoyed her obvious better conditioning.  And then a
thought crept into her mind: there was to be a race in a couple
days and maybe, just maybe, she could win.  Nothing like
introducing a little competition to get Mary's blood coursing
through her veins!

So, she threw herself into the training.  Ike noticed the change
in her manner and was perplexed by it, but he said nothing. 
Instead, he helped her along, using his thin whip to cause her to
pick up her knees when trotting.

After a work out, her harness was removed and Ike used a hose and
cloth to clean her.  He then took her to her stall where he left
her.

In the afternoon, he was back.  She was quickly re-harnessed, and
then, after a brief warm-up, he harnessed her to her sulky.  Her
hands were released from behind her back and then fastened to the
staves of the sulky.  This permitted her to hold it up as well as
to grip it to pull it.  When she was in position, the staves
extended out about two feet in front of her for there was a bar
connecting the two staves that was secured to the front of her
belt.  Behind her, there was about two yards to where the seat
was.  When the rider of the sulky was in place, his or her legs
(it had always been only Ike up till now) rested on the staves,
and there was just the right distance to use the sulky whip.  The
tip could be snapped on her ass cheeks, or the full tail could be
laid on her back.  Ike led her out to a track (there were three,
two for practice and one for the event) and let her get a feel
for the footing (hoofing?).  The ground was slightly soft, but
not quite as soft as it would be for horses.  After getting an
acknowledgement that she was ready, he swung himself into the
sulky, positioned his legs, and then with a snap of the whip tip
on her right buttock, they began.  She started off slowly, and
they did one circle of the track at walking speed.  This was
designed so that she could again learn the balances required to
walk in the hoof boots, and the effect of Ike being in the sulky. 
By shifting his weight, he could make the staves want to head
downward (in which case, she had to pull up) or head upward (in
which case she had to hold them down).  For walking, they had
found she did better holding them up, so his weight was forward
in the sulky; for trotting, either way was about the same; but,
for running, definitely holding the staves down was better as she
could allow the bar to which her belt was fixed to ride up just a
little higher so that she was able to get her chest into it
(below her massive boobs, for it was most important that the
boobs be free to swing and sway and jiggle and jounce according
to the rules of the pony girl association!).  Very little about
pony girl racing pleased Ike more than to watch all those boobs
bounce and sway, but Mary wasn't too pleased since it tended to
wear her out.

Training went on like that for two days.  Mary ached that first
nite, sleeping on the floor of her stall.  Of course, she didn't
spend the entire nite there, but enough so that it met the
association requirements.  And, she was back before dawn, with
that sticky, glistening stuff on the inside of her thighs, and a
smile on her lips.

On the third day, it was clear excitement was in the air.  Today
was the day of the races.  Only four sulkies would race at a
time, so there had to be some elimination races.  Mary won her
first two races in a breeze.  In both, there were two female and
two male ponies, and none of the other six were in anywhere near
the good condition she was in.

The third elimination race had a guy who kept pace with her for
most of the way, and it took Ike applying the whip to her back to
get that extra ounce of energy so that she crossed just a boob in
front of the guy.  A protest was made that she had unfair
advantage, but Ike blew them off, saying if the pony boy had
gotten it up, with what he had, he would have more in front than
Mary.

And that put them in the championship.  The ponies were permitted
to rest, but Ike kept Mary moving, even if slowly, so that her
muscles didn't tighten up.  And that undoubtedly was the
difference.  She had some very stiff (well, one was) competition,
but, from the head of the stretch run, there had been no doubt. 
She was in front and nothing or nobody was going to catch her.

In the tradition of racing, a blanket of flowers was draped over
her shoulders and Ike got to drink champagne from the silver cup.

That evening, they were the featured guests at the banquet.

The next day, tired but happy, they flew home.

The girls were just overjoyed with the idea they would be having
an Orangutan coming to live with them.  It seems the shipper had
notified them their Orangutan had arrived, but that it would be
in quarantine for 30 days.  They excitedly wanted to know what it
was to be named, and when Mary said she had already named it
Bernie, the older girl winked and smiled knowingly.

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