STANDING NEXT TO HER PET JULIA, Alison watched as Lady Meranda prepared to tee off. They were on the 9th and final hole in their wager, length 185 yards. A curving fairway, trees on either side. The lush green looked like a verdant carpet on a sloping floor. It rolled from one side to the other. A menacing sand trap yawned just to the left of the green.

The contest could not have been closer. Only one stroke separated the two bettors. Lady Meranda was winning. She was one up on the match, one up on The Bet.

"Well Meranda, with your one stroke lead, you have the honours," David said, looking up from the scorecard.

Meranda looked triumphant as she selected the club from her bag. "And this is the last hole, too," she said. Her gaze was fixed on Alison and Julia.

"She may hit first," Alison whispered comfortingly in Julia's ear, "but we will laugh last!" Alison stroked her lovely slave's back.

Julia turned wide teary eyes in her Maitresse's direction. If only it would be so! she prayed silently.

Alison could not help but admire the sleek tautness of Meranda's buttocks as she bent over to place a ball on the plastic tee. She felt a familiar tingling in her womb as Lady Meranda wiggled her round butt while lining up her shot. The soft white cotton hugged the firm muscles of Meranda's gluteus maximus, the hot, tender crease between the cheeks accentuated by the seam in the shorts.

With the ease and confidence of long hours of practice, Lady Meranda slowly raised her club over her right shoulder, the long metal shaft curving backward and backward so far that if it continued, the head would touch the back of a tanned leg.

For a moment, time froze. The woman, casually dressed, a light sheen of perspiration on her brow, auburn hair pulled back, still as a Leo Mol figure. A heart beat passed.

With a sibilant whisper, the metal club flew back through its prescribed arc. The laws of physics held true as the force carried in the club head was transferred at the moment of impact, into the small white dimpled sphere.

The wooden tee snapped in half, a yellow splinter flying into the air.

Alison, Julia and Meranda watched transfixed as the golf ball rushed up the ascendant of its flight path. The ball hung at the top of its curve, then began its way back down to earth. Hearts seemed to still as the ball dropped, gravity pulling it earthward at an accelerating pace.

Sand flew in all directions as the ball landed smack dab in the middle of the trap.

"Damn!" swore Meranda under her breath.

"Tough shot, Meranda my dear," soothed David.

In her heart, Julia squealed in delight. Now it was Maitresse's turn. If only!

"Tough break," Alison said cattily, passing by Meranda. She smiled sweetly at her rival. Meranda smiled back.

"Don't count your boobies until they're hatched," Meranda replied sotto voce. She walked over to the pony cart, stopping at a spot between the two ponyslaves. Meranda turned around to face Alison and the tee box.

Julia froze, desperate not to move or make a sound. She sensed Lady Meranda was up to no good; she would do something to upset Maitresse, of that Julia had no doubt.

The touch on her secret intimate spot between her legs was so surprising, Julia jerked in her traces, chains and leads rattling. The other pony whinnied in surprise at being almost pulled over.

Alison whipped around. She scowled to see Meranda stroking her Julia's rubber covered privates. Meranda only smiled and slowly withdrew her hand. She raised it to her mouth, licked it.

"Well Alison my dear, it's your turn," she said. "Remember, I'm still one stroke ahead. " She winked at David. "Not that I'm putting any pressure on you, sweetie."

David was transfixed, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women and the ponyslave. He was fascinated by the unfolding tableau, mesmerized like a hound on a scent.

Alison turned back to the ball. She brought the club head forward, only centimeters from the ball. Wiggled it back a bit, then forward again, trying to absorb the "qi" of the ball, hoping to capture its spirit so it would fly straight and true for her. Slowly, carefully, Alison brought the head of the club back, then, in a burst of power, swung down to meet the ball head on.

Thwack! the golf ball skittered off the tee, flying in a wobbly low arc, before splashing into the pond water. A family of ducks quacked their protest.

Alison's heart stopped. A lost ball.

Julia felt a squirt of hot urine trickle down the inside of her thigh. Her eyes began to moisten.

Meranda didn't say a word. The ducks stopped expressing their grievance and settled back down to renew their lazy swim around the pond. Alison, heart and blood frozen, placed another ball on the tee. She swung her club without first addressing the ball.

Thwack!

This time the ball rose in a beautiful arc, soaring like a raptor seeking its prey.

"Beautifully hit!" admired David as the threesome watched, transfixed. Alison's shot was perfect! It raced to the earth some ten feet past the hole. Magically, a backspin took hold, and the ball began to roll back down the hill.

Alison clenched the grip of her club so tight she thought it would snap. Come on! she prayed, as the ball rolled back toward the cup.

The flag flapped in the breeze. There was a "ping!" sound as the ball hit the pin.

Then the unmistakable sound of a golf ball hitting the bottom of a cup.

Alison whooped with joy.

"Fantastic shot!" gushed David. "A hole in one!"

"Beautifully done," cooed Meranda. A genuine smile of pleasure crossed her face. "Of course, with a hole in one you must buy a round of drinks," she jested.

"It will be my pleasure, Lady Meranda," said Alison. Incredible! She beamed as she walked over to Julia. A hole in one! She could not lose! The Bet was hers!

David's ball landed with a plop! on the green. The golfers headed down the slope toward the final shots of their match.

There was a spray of sand as Meranda chipped her ball out of the trap. It stopped about 10 feet away from the pin. Meranda walked over to Alison while David putted.

"A hole in one," she said quietly. She placed a hand on the small of Alison's back and rubbed lightly. "Good thing, too," she said, her hand slipping lower, "because losing a ball in the pond is a two stroke penalty." Alison's knees went to water.

Meranda continued. "You score three for the hole. I need a three to win."

Alison's eyes were enormous as she turned to face Lady Meranda.

"I sink this, my dear," whispered Meranda as she grabbed Alison's buttocks, "and your pretty little ass is mine."

Meranda gave Alison's butt a knowing possessive pat, and walked over to the green.

She gave Alison a wink as she prepared for her shot.

The sound of Meranda's putter hitting the ball was the worst, most frightening sound Alison had ever heard. The little white ball, her future, ran up the sloping green in a direct line with the gaping cup. The hole looked to be 3 feet across and growing as Alison watched the little ball roll closer and closer. It slowed as gravity took hold, but it did not stop.

The hole loomed larger.

The ball stopped.

Two inches short.

Alison's heart started to beat once more.

Two inches.

Meranda let out a plaintive wail to see the little white orb nestle quietly in the grass, not moving.

"Robbed!" She cried out her disappointment.

"Oh Meranda," sympathized Alison, "you certainly were robbed, weren't you!"

Julia whinnied in her excitement - her Maitresse had won! They were saved!

Meranda sank the ball in the cup.

"Well Alison, looks like we've tied after all. Good match. " Her voice was honey. Looped her arm in Alison's. Lady Meranda steered toward the clubhouse. "Come David, I'll have one of my servants look after your caddy and the ponies."

Alison smiled triumphantly at Julia as she walked by.