Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3)

by Penny Lam

  The door slammed open, sending a gust of dawn’s winter winds through. It would warm up quickly, spring nudging in, but at the moment it raised goosebumps on her skin and turned her nipples into tight, painful pebbles. J.B. stalked in, and she was yet again aware of how different he was as a trainer.

  This man wanted them to know he was there and fear his presence. The J.B. who owned Deyton ranch didn’t need to make a big show; his dark, grim, cowboy demeanor was enough to intimidate anyone.

  “Get up,” he commanded.

  There were groans of protest that made Maple raised an eyebrow. Not an auspicious start. While J.B. stormed around, getting out his tools for the day, she reached into the small drawer on the small table provided in her stall and pulled out the toothbrush and toothpaste. J.B. might treat them like ponies, but he wasn’t going to risk their health over it.

  Could toothpaste be orgasmic? The mint burst in her mouth made her believe it was possible. It was, for all intents and purposes, one of the only human things that remained for her. She took extra long, even brushing her tongue and gums twice, before spitting in the leftover food from the night before. A swish of water from her water pouch and she managed to almost feel ready to face the day.

  It was the little things, she began to realize, that she hadn’t considered when begging for this. Maple had only seen the big picture: a chance to rein in the things that made her weak. Incapable. A receptacle for abuse. And she’d been honed in on J.B. On being something for him that would allow him to unleash his demons. Maybe begin to heal.

  Big things.

  Little things, like how much she’d relied on an early morning cup of coffee to start the day, hadn’t been factored in. But her stomach was grumbling for breakfast, and all she wanted, desperately, was one of Mariela’s breakfast tacos heaped with steaming eggs and a cup of black coffee so hot it scorched her mouth with the first sip.

  J.B. stormed into her stall, riding crop already brandished. He snapped it at her backside, turning her to exit. In his other hand was the hose. He sprayed out her trough, unplugging a hole and then resealing it when it was cleaned and empty.

  She stood, shivering in the morning chill. He’d left the doors to the stable open, and the brisk air blew in. Lexy, Katie, Justine, and Brie were all looking just as glassy-eyed and confused as she was feeling. They huddled together for warmth, and Maple’s heart twisted a bit; it was obvious by Brie’s pointed look that she wasn’t welcome to join them.

  All because she’d followed the rules.

  Some part of her revolted. How was it that when she broke the rules with J.B., she was always punished, yet when she followed the rules… well, she found herself being punished, too. What kind of fairness was that? She hated that she could hear her father’s voice, weary and so heavily Texan, saying “life isn’t fair, Darlin’.” It was one of the few things he said to her regularly, along with “there’s always work to be done” and “shit or get of the pot, Maple.”

  Thanks, Dad. She used that frustration at the unfairness of the situation, of everything that had happened to her to land her in this moment, as fuel. Her heart pounded a little stronger. Her blood pulsed a little warmed. She moved her hands briskly up and down her arms and clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering.

  J.B. said nothing of her solitude or the group of the other ponies when he was done cleaning the remnants of their dinners.

  “Your Masters are going to expect endurance out of you. Strength. Now, I train show ponies, but that doesn’t mean you won’t learn riding and working, too.”

  This was new for Maple. When she’d began to work with J.B., the girls had already passed many of these first lessons. They were well into showmanship. She perked up, interested.

  “But first you’ll need your tails.”

  Deep in her gut, a flicker of excitement. When working with her former ponies’ tails, Maple had become jaded. It was just another decoration. But she remembered with a thrill when she’d first realized what their tails were. It had filled her with a sick horror and desire.

  J.B. went to a locker. He produced a key from a pocket and opened the doors. “These are brand new. I never, and I mean never, use anything over again. This is part of what you pay for. Your tack.” He pulled a large suitcase out of the locker and brought it over.

  When it clicked open, Maple saw an assortment of tails inside, their silver plugs gleaming in the sun streaming in through the open doors.

  With efficiency, he pulled out tails that matched their owner’s hair. Lexy and Katie each got blond tails, holding them out away from their bodies. Justine’s was red, it’s flashing auburn a fiery perfect match. Dark raven for Brie, brown so dark it shone black, glistening and silky.

  He placed it in her hand. Her tail. The weight was heavy but familiar in her palm. Maple’s thumb smoothed circles over the metal surface. Her fingers gripped it so her other hand could comb the long, soft, honey brown hair. It was perfection.

  “Starting today, you wear these from morning until night. You are not to remove them. Your bodies will adjust.”

  He took cones out and placed them around the stable, creating a perimeter. “I want you to jog around while I place the tails. Don’t stop jogging unless I call your name.”

  They all took off at a soft jog. Maple’s feet were numb from standing on cold concrete. As she ran and the blood began to pump, they burned. Needles of sensation arching sharply through her soles. Maple was thankful her breasts weren’t too large. The other women tried to grab and hold theirs to keep them from bouncing.

  One by one he called them out. For once, Maple was grateful for having worked in the stable first. She was all but immune now to seeing J.B.’s fingers working lube into the ponies, easing the tail in, and giving them a smack on their flanks to get them moving when he was through.

  There wasn’t any envy. Not until Brie, that is. As she sauntered to him, Maple made the mistake of spying. J.B.’s gaze was honed in on the Rachel look-alike. His lids were hooded and his mouth drawn thin. There was something animalistic in his gaze.

  Her foot dragged and caught on the ground because she wasn’t paying attention. Maple’s body propelled forward, her knees cracking down first and then her palms. Pain stabbed through her and tears sprung in her eyes.

  No one came to help her up.

  Pushing herself to standing, Maple winced. Her knees were scored open, blood dripping down her shins. A quick glance to her hands showed her palms scraped open, too.

  A grunt of pleasure cut through her dismay.

  Brie was being tailed, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as J.B. slowly eased the dildo in. He never once looked at Maple.

  Her stomach rolled, and she was thankful she didn’t eat breakfast. Grimacing, she began her jog again, eyes focused on the ground in front of her.

  By the time J.B. called her name, her ribs were burning, her legs felt like jello, and her knees and palms throbbed in time with her steps. Heart pounding, she panted on her way over.

  “Bend over.” J.B. was already putting on a fresh pair of latex gloves and gathering lube. She did as he asked, though it meant bracing herself on wounded hands and putting pressure just above the kneecaps that were still so tender.

  Impersonal fingers probed at her tight pucker, shoving the lube in. He twisted them around, smearing cold gel deep inside of her. Maple moaned. Feeling him inside of her and the twist of pain from her fall triggered her body’s response. She felt her arousal swell through her, his rough touch quickly stoking the orgasm she knew was coming.

  Maple flushed. This was the kind of thing that should mortify her. It would have caused a cycle of hate and a desperate neediness in her not that long ago. What kind of girl could come so easily by such base treatment? In front of others?

  She felt the blunt pressure of the cold steel at her back door. It probed at her, seeking entry. Her body convulsed, anus clenching in response. Her time with J.B. the day before had loosened her up, though, and while she was s
till tender back there, she knew it wouldn’t take much effort to get the tail in.

  “Shhh, there’s a good pony. Just relax,” J.B. growled low. He braced his other hand on her lower back, his rough fingers gently clawing at her bare skin. A shiver ran down her spine. Letting out a deep breath, she relaxed and pushed back.

  The tip began to fill her. The pressure was relentless as he continued to ease it into her. Passion swirled through her, her heart skipping beats as it stuttered from the run and pleasure. Maple’s thighs clenched.

  It didn’t matter what kind of girl she was, she thought. Not in here. In here she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a pony. And while he might not admit it, she was J.B.’s pony. Pride flickered and more steel entered her. The stretching sensation was intense, her body unable to decide to expel the dildo or clutch greedily at it.

  Her body didn’t have a choice. The hand on her lower back moved swiftly to her hair, clenching it, anchoring her as he drove the dildo home.

  Maple’s guts clenched and squirmed at the foreign object now imbedded deep in her bowels. Her pussy clamped and she came, crying out from the fierce, quick climax.

  J.B. spanked her ass, hard. “Ponies don’t moan, Maple,” he rasped. But his voice was thick, and she didn’t mind the admonishment.

  Maple stood. The heaviness of the dildo was surprisingly awkward. The other girls were obviously struggling to jog with their tails in. Their knees bowed out, and their legs trembled. Each one had a thick sheen of sweat, small tendrils evaporating into the chilly air from their skin.

  Faces were contorted, grimaces severe.

  When she tried to walk, she felt why. Each step made the tail shift and rub in her. The distraction alone was obvious. It was a large intrusion, rolling and stroking and merciless. A new appreciation for the former ponies formed.

  J.B.’s training was going to be every bit as difficult as she’d anticipated.

  “Get back in your stalls,” he barked sharply. They hobbled in. Maple caught a few reaching back and fiddling with their tails.

  “Get some rest, ponies, we’re working again tonight.”

  He left them.

  Audible moans of complaint escaped as soon as the door slammed shut.

  Maple reached around and fingered a few stray hairs from her tail. Her tail. Shutting her eyes, she tried to rediscover the sensations. Between her legs was still slick from her earlier climax. Wryly, she wondered if she’d spend this entire time in a state of constant sexual arousal.

  Her body hummed with appreciation for the new fullness.

  It was beginning, she realized. The change. Like her very DNA was going to rewrite itself.

  She’d been able to come with J.B.’s help, but without needing a large dose of pain to accompany it. It had still been an element, between her scraped body and his fist in her hair. But that was minor. That wasn’t the punching, slapping, slicing pain she’d needed previously.

  It was just him, and, well, thinking of herself as a pony. As different. Maple the horse wasn’t Maple the broken girl.

  Lunch came later. This time it was Mariela who delivered it. She refused to look at Maple, storming in and slopping some oats mixed with fruit and nuts into the trough.

  The warmth of the food filled her belly and made her eyes heavy. She crept onto her pallet and pulled the blanket over her.

  Maple hadn’t been sure she could sleep with the tail inside, but she quickly dozed off, warm and feeling more content than she had in a long time.

  Chapter Eight

  It was dark in the stable when J.B. returned. The light flicked on, and Maple had to shield her eyes as they adjusted. Her nap had turned into the entire afternoon.

  The others didn’t look as well rested. In fact, they looked miserable.

  “Okay, ponies, this is how it works. I train you one by one. When I’m finished, I’ll groom you and lead you back to your stall. You’re finished when your tail comes out. Lexy, let’s go,” he snapped, walking into her stall.

  Maple could hear him dressing her. In her mind’s eye she pictured it. Bit. Bridle. Body harness.

  He led her out by reins. It wasn’t smooth. J.B. was practically dragging her. Tears were already streaming down Lexy’s face, and he had barely started.

  Maple joined the other interested ponies, each looking out her stall, eager to see what would happen.

  “When you are a show pony, I expect your carriage to be immaculate at all times. We’ll practice with a bar first, and if you earn it, I’ll remove it.” To emphasize this, he grabbed a thin, metal bar. It sat flush with Lexy’s lower back. J.B. pulled her arms behind, fitting each over the metal so that the bar was hooked in the elbow.

  Lexy’s lower back was forced to arch to accommodate the severe stretch across her chest. He fit her wrists with cuffs that linked together in front of her, pinning her arms tight. Lexy’s shoulders were taut, the skin smoothed tight over staining muscle. Her breasts were jutting out, nipples tight and on display.

  “This is how you should strive to look in my presence at all times.”

  He grabbed a crop. It’s slip of leather dragged softly down Lexy, beginning at her chin. “Chin up, eyes forward.” He feathered it across her collarbones. “Shoulders back, tits out.” With this, he lightly slapped each of her nipples. Lexy gasped, and her knees quivered. This earned her a stronger lash. “No! At all fucking times, Lexy!”

  She nodded.

  Another lash, even harder, on her stomach. Angry pink bloomed on her skin. But she was a quick learner. Lexy bit her lip but didn’t move, accepting the chastisement. “Good girl,” he murmured.

  The lesson continued. “Arched back, rump out. Legs straight and long. This is how a proper pony looks.”

  Despite her discomfort and obvious distress, Lexy’s face softened and she looked pleased.

  That is, until the walking lessons began.

  Maple stopped watching. She’d seen this before. Instead, she leaned against the wall of her stall to wait her turn.

  The bar was in place. Her body was terribly uncomfortable. The sharp arch of her back felt unnatural, while her shoulders were already screaming at her.

  Maple loved all of it. She was too familiar with pain for it to distract her. J.B. had been right about the tail, too. It was startling how quickly her body adjusted. The steel had warmed to her inner temperature. Now she still felt its weighted presence, but it didn’t feel as foreign. Her body had long ago exhausted trying to push it out.

  “Lovely, Maple,” J.B. murmured as she held her body erect. She flushed with pride. How could he be so against this?

  When she sought his gaze, she earned a flick to her nipple. Pain lanced through and it tightened into a bud, as if hiding from the next hit. “Ponies look forward, Maple.”

  “Walk.”

  It wasn’t fair that Maple had previous knowledge, but it was what it was. Her knee popped up first, then her foot swung robotically out before stamping down a little in front. “Nice,” he encouraged.” She took another step.

  He walked her up and down twice. She only earned one mild slap for a turn.

  Eager for more, she held herself at the end with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “That’s good for tonight, Maple.” He gripped her reins and pulled her toward the grooming area.

  Maple pouted. She had hoped for more time with J.B.

  In the grooming area, he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up.

  Maple hadn’t realized how difficult it was to not be able to speak to him. Her mind was racing with things from the day. Sensations, lessons, questions; all of these whirled in her mind but were cut short in her throat. Maple wouldn’t allow them to escape.

  She wanted to hear him, too. What did he think of her, and how had she done? What did he think about the other girls? Who would make it, and who might be held back for another round at auction time?

  It was funny, she mused. Neither of them had been talkers before. Maple had been too comfort
able in her small and fragile shell, carefully constructing walls to bury herself within. J.B., too, was more the silent sexy type than conversationalist. Yet they could talk so freely about art, and after yesterday…

  They’d exposed so much of themselves, and resolved so little. Now it felt complicated, like they’d cemented their relationship while also ripping it apart.

  J.B. eased her out of her tack. The dull ache in her jaw eased as the bit slid out from between her teeth. Rubber, she knew from horrible experience, was superior to metal and she was grateful that’s what J.B. used. She tried to relax the muscles of her jaw and neck as he unbuckled her harness, slipping the buttery leather off.