by Penny Lam
Her body was tight, each muscle strained. It was also so completely full. He was in every one of her senses. His control was masterful.
Her fingers felt as he pulled out, and Maple whimpered, needing his hardness in her again. J.B. slammed back in, jerking on her hair and hip. Maple screamed.
The way he fucked her was primal. Brutal. All the soft, gentle prep had been a lie. He took her ass like he owned her. He did. Maple gave him everything. She quaked at his touch. The burning pull and stretch of her ass soon became pleasure as he pounded into her again and again.
She made all sorts of sounds as he ravished her. Screams, cries, pleas. Snorts. Grunts, and finally, as he thrust his cock so far into her that she was sure she felt it in her diaphragm, the whoosh of the air leaving her lungs.
He released her hair, and Maple fell forward. J.B.’s grip on her hips was the only thing holding her up. Her hair dangled and brushed at her knees, her arms hung limp by her sides. He didn’t care. She was just a sleeve for his cock now, a tool for his pleasure.
It filled her with blinding joy.
“Maple, I won’t stop fucking you until you get your hand back on your pussy,” he snapped at her, punctuating every other word with a hard thrust. “Make yourself come. Now.”
Deep inside, Maple tapped into a reserve of willpower. Who knew that being ordered to come could become such a burden? Her body didn’t want to obey, but she made it.
Her fingers found their way to her clit, and she began to strum herself hard, matching her rough rubbing with the quick tempo J.B. set.
To her elation, it didn’t take long. She pictured herself as one, long tube for him, mouth to ass, made to be filled with his glorious length. Each thrust was his worship to the shrine of her body, which she had made for him.
The climax was hard, almost painful, as it ripped through her. She felt her ass clench down on J.B., knew it to be true because he groaned behind her. His pace became erratic and then he jerked, slamming full into her.
The hot splash of his seed deep inside her bowels was the most gratifying sensation of Maple’s life.
But, of course, he withdrew. Her body was left a husk, the feeling of hollowness more poignant after having him stretch her backside so.
He pulled his pants up, the zipping sound breaking her heart.
Chapter Six
It was night by the time everyone was back in the stable. Maple could feel the sticky sweat from her time with J.B. still soaked into her skin. It made her feel powerful and doubtful all at once.
Had he been right? Could they truly be happy as is?
The nervous energy from the other girls permeated the room and Maple found she wasn’t sure of anything. Why was it so difficult to speak with him? Or for her to think things through?
She worried the cuticles on her fingernails. It was feeling a little as if she hadn’t thought this through. If she’d spoken more to J.B., explained more of her past--
No. No, he couldn’t know the details. No one wanted those details. Just as she now found herself reluctant to know details of his marriage to Rachel, she dreaded him ever discovering just how much Tony had debased her. How much he’d violated her and shared her.
He’d turned her into a commodity. A fucking free one at that.
So yes, it was possible for J.B. to love her as he knew her, in that moment. But she’d always know. The ghosts of her past would creep in, from time to time, and remind her of who she was.
The stable, this large and rustic space, filled with women anxious for something different, promised Maple the ability to transform.
She’d never been wrong about that. She needed to stop doubting herself now.
Of course, with Brie-- basically Rachel’s twin-- standing next to her, that didn’t mean Maple wouldn’t still struggle with that old tendency to doubt and reduce.
“You’ve signed contracts. Paid fees. We’ve met individually, and you’re still committed to training in my stable.” J.B. paced back and forth in front of them. Near to him, there was a large box on the floor. He eyed them all. “I don’t give a shit why you’re here. I don’t want your back story, your sob story, whatever fucking story you’ve got. I want you to strip out of your clothes and put all your belongings in this box.”
The girls glanced nervously at each other, but Maple was already shedding her clothing. The only thing she grew hesitant to remove was her panties; her fingers trembled as she removed them. Balling them up, she hid them in her pants, paranoid the scent of her lust from the afternoon would betray her.
After all of the clothing, shoes, and purses were placed in the box, J.B. sealed it up.
“Okay. The rules are simple, and you already know them. Don’t talk. Do as I ask.”
He pulled his chair from the desk and sat. Maple could feel the other girls dancing on their bare feet on the cold cement.
“Many of you are going to try your hardest to pretend to be a pony over the next few weeks. You’ll neigh, you’ll prance.” His voice cut hard, his mouth wry. “You’ll be failing at this, and you’ll sell for shit. Some dumb asshole with money and a heavy hand will buy you, and you’ll curse me, thinking I didn’t deliver on my promise.”
J.B. leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin. “But it’s you who didn’t deliver. This isn’t fucking acting school. It’s a stable. And you are a goddamn horse. You don’t think about what I tell you to do-- you just do it. You don’t complain about the lodging, or the food, or the treatment, because ponies don’t worry about that shit.”
It wasn’t a show. J.B., in the role of trainer, morphed into someone else. This wasn’t her dominant cowboy. As a trainer, her spoke more. He cursed more. And he was a hell of a lot more frightening.
The shiver that coursed through Maple wasn’t fabricated. In the low, electric lights of the stable, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, J.B. transformed into part demon, part man. His raspy gravel voice heightened the illusion.
Every syllable he snarled was genuine. He didn’t give a shit about them.
He was going to mold them, train them into superior show ponies.
“Food comes at first light and at night, after training. You’ll get snacks in the afternoon. You get groomed once a day, at night. If you don’t use the bucket, then you’ll spend the day covered in excrement. There are no power plays here. I’m the only one with power, and I don’t. fucking. play.” He stood, replaced his chair. “Get in your stalls. Food comes soon.”
“Do we have to use the bucket?”
Maple froze, unable to believe that someone would speak up. Hers weren’t the only eyes to seek out the speaker. One of the blondes. Lexy, she believed.
“Go grab a paddle from the wall.” J.B. refused to look at her, to answer her question.
“Excuse me?” Lexy pursed her lips. That attitude must have helped her somewhere, but Maple was cringing. It was going to hurt her, badly, in the stable.
“On the wall are a row of paddles. Pick one, please, and bring it to me. Now.” Lexy shuffled, unsure, to the wall of J.B.’s tools. There were rows of crops and whips and paddles. She selected a thinner one, with holes. Maple was sure that Lexy thought it looked less dangerous than the heavy wooden ones.
She also knew Lexy was wrong.
Lexy approached J.B. and handed him her choice.
“Do we speak?” He asked Lexy.
“No,” she sighed. Before she even finished the paddle whistled through the air and landed on her torso. She yelped and jumped, her hand reaching to cover the painful hit.
“Stand still and remove your hand. A pony knows how to accept correction.” He circled around her, dragging his eyes up and down her now trembling body. Lexy’s breasts were heavy, and they shook, the large nipples tightening into tiny buds.
“Do we speak?” He asked again, hovering behind her. Lexy bit her lip, unsure of what he wanted. Maple was tense, eager for the new girl to figure it out. It was going to be difficult, she re
alized, to simply blend in with the rest. It was like having the cheat sheet before the exam: She knew all the answers.
The difference, of course, was all these girls wanted was an “A.” Maple wanted to win over the teacher.
She coughed a little. Lexy’s scared, wide eyes darted to her, just in time to see Maple tap her foot twice. J.B. didn’t miss it, either, His gaze narrowed. Lexy didn’t miss a beat. Two stamps. No, we don’t speak.
Smacking the paddle on his hand, he strode over to Maple. “Are you here to make friends?” His tone was venomous.
She stamped her foot twice.
“Then don’t fucking interfere,” J.B. snarled before storming away to replace the crop on the wall. Maple’s cheeks flushed, but she caught Lexy’s thankful nod.
“Food will come shortly. This stable is locked at night for your safety and privacy. Everyone get in your stalls. ”
Maybe it was hoping too much, but Maple thought she caught his eyes lingering on her. Then they moved swiftly to another figure, tracing her all the way to her stall.
Brie.
Fighting to keep her breathing under control, Maple slipped into her stall. It was difficult to walk, her well-used ass still sore. It was a welcome reminder, despite the discomfort. He’d chosen her. He’d chosen her.
He’d chosen her.
The two of them just needed to make it through training, and they could be together. She could be with him. Better. Whole.
When they’d all filed into their stalls, J.B. hit the lights. The moon was out by this point, and it painted spots of the stable in silver. When he shut the door, the clang of the lock being secured echoed through, punctuating the suddenly stark silence.
For a few moments, there was just the soft sounds of feet shuffling and the occasional sigh. However, Maple could feel the elastic tolerance of the women stretching thin. It was finally popped wide open by Brie.
“So, Lexy, how turned on are you right now?” Her voice rang out, full of humor. Maple frowned and backed further into her stall, as if she could hide from the rule breaking.
“I’m not, it really hurt!” Lexy whined.
“Yeah, right,” Justine’s raspy voice joined in. “I saw you crossing your legs. You loved it.”
“Maybe a little,” Lexy giggled. “But I didn’t expect him to hit so hard.”
“You’ve never been spanked before?” Brie teased.
“Sure, who hasn’t? But this isn’t like that. You just wait-- when he hits you you’ll see. He’s not fucking around.”
Maple’s anxiety was through the roof. Her scalp prickled, and though it was almost black in her stall, her eyes darted, searching for the moment that they were busted for breaking a cardinal rule. It never came.
“God, I hope not,” Brie sighed. “When he whips me I’m sure I’ll come all over the floor. What about you, Maple? Eager to get a little J.B. discipline?”
She tasted blood. Maple had chewed through her lip. The inside was raw and swollen, leaking the copper taste. Despite the pain, she couldn’t stop working the wound with teeth and tongue.
“Oh, are you a brown noser, Maple?” Brie taunted now, and the others laughed. “He won’t know. That rule is just for show. No one could possibly expect five women to be locked in a room together for months and not talk.”
Brie waited for a reply. Maple could practically feel her smiling, prodding, trying to get a rise from her. Instead, Maple felt along the wall until she found her blanket. Pulling it around her shoulders, she sank onto her hay pallet. The smell was familiar and soothing.
“Fine, Maple. We’ll see how long you manage. But,” Brie’s voice twisted, a hint of nastiness emerging for the first time, “I’d be careful about waiting too long. No one likes a goody two-shoes. We’re in this together.”
We aren’t, though, Maple wanted to call out. We’re in this on our own. She knew. She’d seen how the former ponies were sold. When they’d been taken to the auction, they weren’t together anymore. They were in competition, each hoping for the best possible outcome. Maple was more isolated, because she wasn’t competing with them. She was competing against a ghost.
I don’t even want to win. I just want to be different.
She tuned the other women out. Her ass was still sore from J.B.’s cock earlier. The memory of it thrilled through her. In the dark of the stable, she was able to relive the memory. Her body began to hum as she thought about how he’d fucked her mouth, too. Her scalp tickled as she recalled how his fingers had gripped her hair so tightly, her head forced into submission.
He’d wanted to have all of her, he’d said.
She knew he thought it was a goodbye. And it was, but not like he thought.
The girls kept chattering around her until the metallic click of the lock silenced them. Maple sat up quickly, wondering if this had been a test. Was J.B. back now, prepared to mete out punishment for speaking?
Instead, she heard Raúl’s familiar voice humming. Right. Food.
As he approached the stalls, the the smell began to waft in. He flicked the light back on, and she could see the steam from the pot rising in angry coils in the air. It was a welcome sight.
It had the distinct tang of lime, cilantro, and cumin-- Mariela’s cooking. Her stomach growled painfully, twisting like it was trying to claw up her throat, as if it could get to the food more quickly that way.
He took his sweet time, going into each stall and handing out portions of whatever it was. Maple could almost picture him, stealing side glances at the new, naked women. Measuring up the new stock, maybe, or filing some memories away for his own.
Finally, her stall door opened. Raúl met her gaze, and for that, she loved him. He was, and would always be, a good friend. Once she was out of here, she was going to work hard to get he and his sister legalized. Yeah, they might stay at the ranch-- but they might not. They deserved the choice, the chance for something that was their own.
She knew too well what it was like to feel trapped.
“Looking good, Belleza,” he joked. Only he sounded thin and strained and she knew what an effort it was for him to see her like this.
She nodded, sparing him the stamp. While she wanted to dedicate herself to J.B.’s training, she also wanted to be a good friend. Raúl would never be interested interacting with her as a pony. And she wasn’t doing this for him.
He grunted in response. She was nervous, she realized. Maple’s palms were sweating despite the slight chill in the stable. It was a slew of things. What was Raúl thinking now? Did he hate her for going through with it? Think she was an idiot? And he wasn’t hiding their conversation, despite it being settled that the other women shouldn’t know Maple had worked for J.B. She was worried they’d overhear him.
Yet she couldn’t be mad at him for it, either. His presence was refreshing. A totem for her when her heart and mind ran wild, threatening to tear her into pieces.
He dished out the food-- simple rice and beans, but of course, Mariela never made anything simple -- and set down the pot.
The air between them was charged, this territory unknown. Both of them knew he should grab his pot and go. Maple knew neither of them was ready for him to.
Finally, he crossed her small stall and wrapped his arms tight around her. J.B.’s stable was climate controlled. It had to be, for them to be naked the entire stay in there. His heater couldn’t entirely erase the cold in the lofty stable, though. Raúl’s heat pressed into her bare skin and she shivered before sinking into him.
His hand calmly stroked her hair, and she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. It wasn’t until the air hit her cheeks as she pulled away, chilling them, that she realized she’d been crying.
Chapter Seven
Waking up was simultaneously easy and hard. Easy, because she’d been restless all night. Her eyelids jumped open. But hard because, as she rose and stretched, she felt the physical duress caused by sleeping on a pallet of hay.
They hay protected her from the concrete floor,
but it offered little comfort or support. Even wrapped in her blanket, the itch from it had kept her sleep light when it did finally come.
She could hear stirring in the other stalls and knew she wasn’t the only one. It was strange, after being in a room, alone, for so long to wake in a stable filled with other women. Even if they weren’t speaking, there was a hushed awareness that she wasn’t alone, that she wasn’t in a soft, warm space; that she was naked in a stable.
Obvious? Yes, but it felt obvious in the way her knees creaked and her back popped as she stood. Her toes felt tingly and numb-- they’d escaped from her blanket sometime in the night.
Maple went to her bucket and relieved herself, grabbing a handful of hay to clean herself. This was another cheat; she’d figured out quickly when mucking the previous stock’s stalls how they’d stayed clean without something as basic as toilet paper.
