My fiance Benito, was very busy before the elections, both at the restaurant and as a block captain for the Conservative Christian Party. He promised me we would get married as soon as possible after the election. I spent my lonely nights watching TV, especially Paola, Fredericka, and Bianca, female "talking heads" who always took the Leftist view. No party won a majority, but the CCP got enough seats in the parliament that they were accepted into the coalition government. Their price was two ministries, Justice and Defense.

Soon Paola disappeared. The Ministry of Justice said that her clothes had been found in a small boat drifting in the Adriatic, and she was presumed drowned, either by accident or suicide. Two days later, Fredericka, the one with the bleached blonde hair, disappeared from the TV, and the tabloid newspapers, citing unnamed official sources, said she had embezzeled money and fled to Russia. A week later, Bianca, probably the prettiest of the three, disappeared. It was said that she had abandoned her husband and children and run off with a wealthy Argentinian capitalist. Of course there was a lot of gossip about immoral communists, but most people, on the right and the left, seemed to accept that these strange coincidences happen.

The next month, Benito and I were married, even though I had a cast on my leg from a nasty fall. He had arranged a honeymoon at a remote island resort. After a change of planes, we arrived by boat after dark. I could see that there was an ancient looking village with a castle on the shore of a small harbor, very picturesque. We had a little cottage, very private, and Benito went out of his way to make our wedding night pleasant and memorable. We skipped breakfast, but Benito said we must get up to attend a lecture on the Duties of a Christian Wife. It was then I realized that our visit had strings attached. The whole island was owned by the Conservative Christian Party, and everyone we saw or met was active in the party. It was kind of spooky, especially when we went to dinner, the noon meal. The meal was buffet style, but all the workers, in the kitchen or carrying food to the dining room, were women, dressed in identical black dresses, not really dresses, more like burlap sacks, a very rough fabric, with holes cut for neck and arms. They were ankle-length, and the women, whether teen-age or middle aged or something in between, were barefoot, and they all had wedding rings!

When I mentioned it to Benito, he explained that all the workers were wives of party members who needed remedial instruction in their wifely duties. That really made me shiver.

Our schedule was all mapped out for us. Apparently all the honeymooners get the same itinerary, visits to shrines and monuments and lectures. However, I couldn't walk up to the hilltop shrine of St. Basil, so Benito said he'd get us a pony cart.

The cart was metal, a bench seat for two with a foot rest and wire-spoked wheels, like a motorcycle's. A tubular shaft went forward to a crossbar, where the ponies were hitched. The surprise was that the ponies, three of them, were women! They wore leather helmets which also covered the upper part of the face, with only a sort of oval tube in front of the eyes, which would allow the "pony" to see directly ahead and down. The helmets were decorated with plumes, red, blue, and green, the names of the ponies. The helmets also had bridles, with an iron bit in the mouth. I wondered why a bit but no reins. Benito noted the bit made speech impossible. Each woman wore a wide, tight black belt around her waist. Her wrists had leather cuffs which attached to the belt above each hip, so her arms were useless. Her lower legs were enclosed in black boots of a strange style. Judging from the length, the woman's toes were pointed down, like with very high heels, but foot of the boot was not shaped like a foot. Rather it resembled a horse's hoof, and I wondered if it was possible to walk in them, unless one was held upright by the cart harness, for it would have been like walking on stilts. The harness was simple. The tubular crossbar pressed against the back of the thigh, just at the crease of the buttocks, and from there a wide leather strap - it smelled of urine - went forward between the legs and attached at the belt.

The strap covered the genital area and, I was certain, when the pony pulled forward, that the propulsive force must come from the pressure of her vulva against the strap. The anal region was covered by a horse-like tail, red, blue, or green, which, it seemed, must be attached to some sort of object embedded in the rectum. There would be no need to clean up pony manure. Otherwise the ponies were naked, except for the breasts. The central part of each breast was covered by a black metal cup, bullet shaped, which seemed firmly attached, but it was not evident how. I thought of glue, or perhaps a vacuum holding the cup against the breast. Benito said it was possible they were mechanically attached, as with nails driven into the breast tissue. I shuddered to think of it. There was a buggy whip in a socket next to the seat, but there was no need to use it. The ponies, muscular, sun tanned, were well trained, and it was only necessary for Benito to say, "Take us to St. Basil's", and off they went.

For most of the way, there was a smooth path, a bit wider than the cart. They moved out at a good pace, where the path was fairly level, but when we came to a hill, the three of them had to lean into their work to pull up uphill. I marveled at their well developed thigh muscles as they strained to pull us. The slope was so steep that we were tilted back in our seats, and I wondered if my skirt preserved my modesty. A Christian woman does not wear garments which "divide the legs", and I couldn't have put on slacks over my cast, anyway. I kept my knees pressed together. Near the top, sweating with exertion, the ponies stopped for a moment, taking deep breaths. Had I not been so innocent, I should have realized that the pressure of the straps had given each one multiple orgasms! Benito impatiently cracked the whip, first in the air and then against Blue's bare buttock. The ponies resumed their work.

At last we came near the shrine, but the path went no further; there were steps which blocked the progress of the cart. Benito jumped out and said, "Julia, my dear, you can't possibly climb the steps. Wait here while I go and see the shrine." The ponies just stood there, balancing on their hooves, nearly motionless.

As soon as Benito was out of sight, I climbed down, and hobbled toward where I could get a better view of the sea. Blue, as I passed, started to cough and gag, heaving her metal-clad breasts as if she couldn't breathe. With the weights on them, they swung like bells in a wind storm. Concerned, I loosened Blue's bridle and bit, which instantly solved her breathing problem. "Thank you so much," she said. "The bit is so uncomfortable."