The Stablegirl (a fetish pony play erotic romance)

by Miss Merikan

  Less people wore masks, and despite the closeness of the undead just behind shabby walls and gates, the much clearer air made Annie want to smile. Only experiencing breathing this way made her realize just how filthy London’s poorest areas were. The rich would use aboveground passages and hanging trams, so they wouldn’t have to experience the dirt and smog. Here, in Bylondon, everyone seemed different yet somehow equal.

  She pressed the brown jute bag to her chest and slowly walked off the stairs and onto the walkway. She would never endanger the shoes Rose gave her for the sake of getting to the marketplace quicker. They weren’t new but in good condition, with pretty embroidery along the laces.

  Annie joined the crowd and soon realized the pristine color of her new clothes would not last if someone pushed her off the walkway, so after yet another nudge by a rude stranger, she made sure to walk right in the center. It got her a few annoyed glances for blocking the way, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

  Annie followed the path all the way to a street paved with large, uneven cobblestones, where her shoes sometimes slipped on stones of irregular height, but it was hard to focus on that when the stalls emerged for her to see, some loaded with food and some barely half-full. Except for a few, most stalls were small, one-person owned carts with a mix of produce. Pie and cake merchants sold their items straight from trays they kept hanging from their necks. A loud splash of water took her by surprise, and she pushed past the crowd to the other side of the street, straight into the arms of an elderly man in thick glasses.

  “Careful there, miss,” he said, letting her go. She blinked and looked at the cookies piled up in jars on his small cart. Oh, God, now she felt obliged to buy something! She did have money. She loved cake. But the money had been entrusted to her, and she didn’t want to spend it on frivolities. She cleared her throat, suddenly focused on a large pile of oatcakes, and it made her smile. Master Alexander frequently asked her to feed similar ones to Coal, as oat was good horse feed, as he put it. She ended up buying one in the hope that Dante would appreciate the joke and a tiny honey cookie for herself. It was so cheap Dante would never notice.

  But the moment she turned away from the seller, all of her appetite was gone.

  People around the water tank roared with laughter in which she wasn’t about to join in. An undead, a zombie, a deadie, a rotter—whatever you’d like to call the thing that was once human, but was now a blood-thirsty cannibal—was swimming in a large tank made out of double glass. The thing writhed in the water and let out silent screams of rage as a large metal claw lowered toward it until it could close around the slightly bloated body. One of the spiky endings bit into the rotter’s stomach, releasing dark goo that was once blood into the already filthy water.

  Annie put her hand over her mouth, watching the machine place the monster on the seat below a colorful target that the people gathered around could hit with a ball to toss the zombie into the water again. She didn’t want to watch any of it, so she rushed ahead, trying not to think of the creature’s rotting flesh. Soon enough, he’d look like a dead fish in the pond.

  Eager to distract herself from the horror of Bylondon’s entertainment, she swiftly looked through the stalls, searching for products she was asked to buy. If she got the best deal, Rose would notice and praise Annie to Dante. Maybe he’d be more appreciative of her then, less likely to look for women in London. Or did he have an aristocratic lady friend? As unlike Annie as possible?

  With a bag full of shopping, she was heading back through the streets of a city she doubted she’d ever call home, when yet another strange occurrence grabbed her attention.

  There was a horse in the street. A human-horse attached to a carriage, dressed in black leather from head to toe, with not even a glimpse of his skin on show. He wore an intricate leather mask resembling a horsehead, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to the empty glass eyes that hid the man beneath.

  In the stylish cart behind him sat a young, handsome man with blond hair and a set of scars that stretched his mouth into a permanent smile. He too was dressed in tight black leather, with numerous buckles and straps that seemed to be there only for decorative purposes. The man stretched and jumped off the cart, immediately followed by a bald man with a body that reminded Annie of a strongman she’d once seen at the circus. Both men made their way to a beautiful store that seemed to sell luxurious stationery items, but the blond didn’t hesitate to give the horse an appreciative pat on the chest before disappearing inside the building.

  Even with the mask, the stallion reminded Annie of Coal, and the simple pleasure of spending time with him, so she couldn’t force herself to move away. She tried to be discreet and not stare at the horse, but it was hard not to notice his firm ass in the tight leather. She hid her smile behind the bag of groceries, but it faded when three young boys approached and started throwing little pebbles at the pony. The stallion snorted at them and stomped his hoof on the cobblestones, but it only warded off the children for a moment, and there was no one to help the poor beast with his master away.

  Annie couldn’t help but notice the smug smiles on some of the adults’ faces as they watched the spectacle. They would not try to taunt the stallion themselves, but they did nothing to ease him from his situation. She wasn’t sure how to react at first, unwilling to become an object of ridicule herself, but when one of the boys grabbed a bamboo stick from the nearby stall and swatted it against the horse’s thigh, Annie couldn’t bear the abuse anymore and stormed toward the carriage.

  “How dare you? Your mothers should be ashamed of you!” she growled, pushing the boy with the stick straight into the mud.

  A silence from the people around gave her chills, but she stood by her decision. She put the shopping bag on the cobblestones and got back to the stallion. It looked at her through the dark glass lenses for eyes, but she wasn’t afraid and stroked the front of its mask instead of backing away.

  “Don’t worry. It’s fine. No one’s going to hurt you. I’ll wait until your master comes back.” She wished she could give him the honey cookie she ended up never eating, but the mask had no room for his mouth, leaving the horse completely enclosed inside.

  “Miss, I don’t think that’s the best of ideas,” said an elderly lady passing by, but she didn’t even stop, speeding up and disappearing in the crowd instead.

  Annie sighed and looked away from the people gathered around, but they dispersed now that there wasn’t much to watch. She leaned into the stallion and rested her head on his shoulder. “You poor thing. You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  There was a sigh inside the mask, and Annie couldn’t help a smile. Sometimes Coal would come back extremely agitated from a session with Alexander and wouldn’t even look at her, but after some tender words and petting, he’d always come around. A few times, he just sat in the darkness in the corner of his stall, but she was sure his sadness was rooted in loneliness, so she’d get in there and spend time with him until he seemed better.

  “You’re such a beautiful pony. So strong and trim. Your master must be so proud of how well trained you are,” she whispered into his ear, tuning into the rhythm of his breathing. A calm male voice took her out of her dream.

  “May I ask what you’re doing to my stallion?”

  “I—” Annie backed away and met the man that earlier left the carriage face to face. There was something odd about him, as if he weren’t looking straight at her. Only after a few seconds, she realized each of his eyes was of vastly different colors. “I was just calming him down …”

  “Hn.” The man looked back at the muscle mountain who probably served as his bodyguard, before looking back to his pony. “Copper? Do you like this girl?”

  It felt as if her life was now up to the pony’s decision, but Copper nodded, and Annie let out a deep exhale. “There were some children throwing rocks at his hooves. I couldn’t stand it. He can’t protect himself when he’s pulling a cart.” Copper wasn’t even wearing hooves, b
ut heavy boots, yet it still somehow felt like the appropriate word for his feet.

  The blond man narrowed his eyes and slowly approached, petting his stallion’s forehead. He looked contemplative as he pulled on the reins and kissed the side of the leather mask. “Poor thing. I should get you your own bodyguard.”

  The way Copper leaned his head to the touch made Annie all tender inside as she remembered Coal’s gentle gestures toward her. How he would put his chin on her head, or nudge her with his hooves. “I suppose it could be necessary in town,” she mumbled and took a step back.

  “What’s your name, girl?” asked the owner without looking at her. He was too busy petting the neck and shoulders of his pet.

  “Annie.” She couldn’t help a silly smile when she considered saying it was ‘Crema.’

  The man nodded and finally cast a glance at her. “Thank you. Not everyone is so ready to accept him the way he is,” he said with a soft sigh.

  Annie hesitated, but looked between them. She was hoping a man like this wouldn’t judge her. “I used to take care of a horse like that. Even bigger than him.”

  The man nodded, but his eyes became instantly more focused. “Ah, the hairless breed. Aren’t they the darlings?” he asked, patting the stallion’s ass.

  “Y-yes. Mine was—I mean, my master’s stallion was very affectionate, but could be unruly too.” Annie dared to smile, happy she could talk to someone about this.

  The man grinned. “As they are. What was the name of that horse? I might know it.”

  “I doubt it.” She laughed, feeling a strange understanding with the stranger. “His name was Coal. He has—had beautiful dusky skin and long black hair. I would brush it every day so it was healthy and shiny.”

  The man blinked. “Yes, we do know him, don’t we, Copper?”

  Copper groaned and nodded eagerly, but then nuzzled his owner’s face. He wore a mask, yet it looked as if it really were his head.

  Annie picked up her shopping bag and hugged it to her chest. “You do?”

  The man grinned. “I’m Erik Dal, and I’m a close friend of your master,” he said, stepping closer to Annie. “Coal is a wonderful stallion. Strong and extremely virile. No wonder you fell in love with such a fine specimen.”

  Annie’s heart skipped a beat. “I—No—It’s not like that,” she uttered, trying to make this a joke, but now that Erik said the word out loud, it rang more true than ever before. She had fallen in love with Coal, and it was the most painful of truths to know that she was only one of many to him. “He’s not a stallion anymore.”

  It was hard to say who was more disappointed with that information—the master or the horse. Erik covered his mouth and sighed. “That is such a shame. He was born to be a stallion. Or is he just at another stable? Please, tell me,” he said, touching Annie’s arm.

  “Are there others?” Annie uttered wide-eyed. Then again, there had to be if Erik had a horse and Master Alexander did. They were bound not to be the only ones interested in such play in all of London. And it made sense for them to know each other since they shared such an obscure fancy.

  Erik grinned and pulled Annie closer. He smelled of leather and hay, a bit like Coal did when he was simply a horse, without the elegant suits and power. Playful and innocent. She had been so blind.

  “Of course, there are. If you want, I’d like to invite you to my annual pet party. Everyone with an unusual pet will be attending.”

  She swallowed, unsure if she should admit to this or not, but Erik seemed so enthusiastic about ponies, not judgmental at all. “Coal bought me to be his pony when his service at Master Alexander’s ended,” she said in not more than a whisper. “Would I still be invited?”

  Erik gasped and grabbed her jaw, staring at her with such intensity it was almost frightening. “Where’s your tack?”

  Annie held her breath as she noticed Copper scrutinizing her as well from behind the glass eyes. “I— It’s at home. He doesn’t need me to wear it all the time, I guess. I-I think he doesn’t care for it much as long as I’m his pony when he wants it.” She wasn’t sure herself, barely finding her place in this new world she was being thrust into.

  Erik frowned and looked at Copper who put the side of his head against Erik’s. “That is curious, but not entirely nonsense, I suppose. I would still like to keep in touch with him, even if he’s not a beautiful stallion anymore. He bred my Copper so well.”

  Annie took another glance at Copper, trying to hide her anxiety. What if it weren’t a woman Dante was visiting in London? If that were what he needed, Annie would never be able to give him that. She had accepted Coal giving pleasure to Master Alexander, and now it seemed to others as well, but she wasn’t sure if her heart could stand it now that Coal was intimate with her as well.

  “Oh. I will pass your message,” Annie said, feeling a flush climb up her neck at the thought of Coal fucking Copper. Now that she knew, she couldn’t get it out of her head that Dante was possibly fucking a man in London, maybe both a man and a woman. Artists weren’t known to be the chastest kind of people, even she knew this much. It had her hands shaking with the uncertainty. He didn’t even say goodbye to her before going off to meet his intimate friends.

  “Girl, what is it?” asked Erik.

  “I just … I think a stallion’s bloodline should be pure, and he shouldn’t muddle it by breeding with just any mare.” She was embarrassed with the words as soon as they left her mouth. Did that sound needy?

  Erik looked into the sky, pressing his lips together. “I suppose. In the wild, those things happen, but now that we control the breeding, there is no need to include inferior stock. We need lovely babies.”

  Annie stared at him. Maybe that was why Dante went away even though he had her at the ready in his own bedroom. She was inferior and good to use until a more purebred mare came along.

  “I guess so,” she muttered. “I’m sorry to have disrupted you and Copper, but I have to take this shopping home.”

  Erik smiled and reached into one of the many pockets of his leather suit. He pulled out a bank note and gave it to Annie. “Thank you for standing up for my lovely pony. Get yourself something nice and remember to mention me to Coal. He can call at my house any time.”

  “I will, sir. Thank you so much.” Annie quickly hid the banknote, but before she turned around, she fished out the honey cake. “Please give this to Copper when you are home?”

  Erik took the cake and smiled as he got back into his cart. Annie didn’t wait for him to go his way and rushed toward Dante’s house with her throat sore from the scream that she couldn’t let out. Her situation was hopeless. Bound to a man for whom she was only a plaything, and a man she loved at that. She so far refused to use this word, but there was no denying that her attachment to Coal transcended what a groom should feel toward a pony. She couldn’t even do that right.

  Chapter 8

  Annie helped Rose make dinner. She hardly knew anything about cooking. All her life, either she’d been fed—in the orphanage or at the places she’d been in service—or she bought the cheap street foods on her way to and from work. There was a lot to consider when cooking, and Annie never ceased being fascinated by the way temperature and mixing certain things transformed ingredients into meals, sometimes completely altering the original taste and texture. Rose was a kind-hearted woman, even if too temperamental at times, and she was eager to show Annie a trick or two. On the first day, she showed her three different ways to prepare eggs that they had for lunch, and almost a week had passed since.

  Annie hadn’t told Rose that she secretly wished to make something for Dante once her skills are good enough. But would he even allow her to? She laughed out loud.

  “What is it?” Rose asked from where she was peeling potatoes over a bucket.

  “Nothing. I just imagined cooking with the hooves on.”

  “That wouldn’t be very efficient, would it?” Rose snorted.

  “I guess not.” Annie shrugged and slowl
y drained the salad leaves she was washing.

  There was a ring at the door, and Rose excused herself to see who it was. Annie was left watching the large pot of rabbit stew. With the animal’s ability to reproduce very quickly, rabbit became one of the more popular meats after most of the population was locked in behind walls. Not wanting to be useless, Annie cleaned some of the space by the time Rose got back.

  “Dante sent a telegram,” she said and waved it in front of Annie. “You’re going back to being Crema.”

  Annie bit her lip. So that was how this was? He was out in London, possibly attending some orgy with both men and women, and now he wanted her to be ready?

  “That’s what he wrote?”

  “All he wrote was that he’s coming back soon, and that if the weather is nice, he wants Crema in the garden.” Rose shrugged.

  Annie sighed and started unbuttoning her dress then and there. “Don’t want to leave him waiting,” she said, deciding not to share her anger with Rose. It wasn’t her fault that Dante couldn’t keep his hands to himself and just wanted all the people.

  Rose gestured at her to leave the kitchen and led the way. “I’ll help you get the tack on.”

  “Thank you. It would be hard on my own,” said Annie, who was out of the dress before she even reached the pen. As much as she tried to be polite to Rose, there was a wave of anger rising in her gut at the thought of what Dante was doing. So she was inferior stock. That didn’t mean she could be neglected like this.

  Rose wasn’t very talkative as she helped Annie put on all the straps, harnesses, and the halter with the bit. She grabbed the reins to lead Annie out, but one look from Annie made her drop them. “It was just a joke!” Rose raised her hands, and Annie forgave her with a nod.

  They walked into the living room, which Annie couldn’t fully appreciate last time. The walls were a pale blue color that complemented the dark brown of the furniture. While the decoration of the bedroom was sparse, the living room made up for it with framed pictures on the walls, porcelain figurines displayed in a small cabinet, and even two stone urns on a shelf over the fireplace. It was quite lovely.