by Penny Lam
The sense of freedom was immense. On the physical level, she didn’t feel that much different. But internally, each bit of tack that he removed was like shaving off a layer of pony to reveal the woman underneath.
The tack, it turned out, wasn’t just for show. It was what aided in creating the subspace she needed, that place inside of herself where she could let go. Become. In the subspace, her body responded before her mind. It was a place that was animal. Base.
A pony.
Don’t be stupid, Maple. It’s only the first day. You’ve barely begun to understand.
But was her criticism true? She wondered as J.B. eased her forward and began to work out the tail. The tugging sensations forced her to close her eyes. She wouldn’t come, not twice. Her body was on automatic, out of her control. It wasn’t fair to think she was ready for the mindset for J.B.’s training.
She’d been through training before, with Tony. This was different. Pain was there, yes, but it was mostly subtle in comparison to the way J.B. encouraged them, his gentle prods and easy praise. But with both experiences, the fear/pain and the praise/care, she still fell rapidly into the space that was eager to please.
Speaking of care…
Being groomed was her first time truly experiencing the care that J.B. had told her about. The water was hot and he began to gently hose down her body. The water ran in rivulets as he guided it over her naked skin, feeling much like a caress.
It was heaven after the chill of the stable and warmed her worn and sore muscles and joints. It sprayed through her hair, weighing it down. He shut off the water and grabbed the soap. Squirting liquid in his hands, he started with her neck and shoulders, his thumbs and fingers softly massaging the soap over her tensed body.
Each firm sweep of his hands helped her relax more. Dirt, grime, and sweat disappeared under his masterful touch. The sweet almond scent of it filled the air, and Maple allowed herself a tiny smile; that was her doing. She’d replaced all of his soaps, shampoos, and oils with high quality ones.
He’d obviously approved, because he’d kept her choices.
The soap he was now guiding under her arms, around to her breasts (oh, God, it felt so good, his thumbs dragging over her hard nipples) was sweet almond oil mixed with moisturizing goat’s milk. She’d chosen it because the smells were still rustic, barn-like, but it was the height of luxury for human skin.
His hands smoothed over her belly, her lower back, before sweeping between her legs.
Maple bit her lip to stifle the moan. His fingers worked quickly, roughly-- doing a job. But that’s how she loved being touched. Rough, impersonal, and she was already feeling aroused. J.B. seemed to purposefully avoid her clit, to her enormous frustration.
As he moved down her legs, leaving her aching with need, Maple remembered her first time grooming an old ponygirl. Kendra. How Kendra had used Maple’s hand and washcloth to grind out a quick climax.
It had embarrassed Maple, a deep stain of shame, partially because it had interested her so much. Now she understood. At the end of the day, while J.B. claimed he wasn’t training them in a sexual manner, it was a lie. Maybe not for him-- he did seem to keep his emotions under control. But for the ponies? The attention, the guidance, the constant touch, whether hand or crop?
It was sexual TNT. Dynamite.
Now, in the grooming area, as he cleaned her feet, massaging her heels and toes in the most luxurious way, Maple was more than primed for detonation. Her body was quaking, tiny tremors of desperation, needing his touch to set off release.
But he stood when he was done, rinsing the suds away and leaving her throbbing.
J.B. grabbed the shampoo, pouring a generous squirt directly onto her hair. His fingers rubbed it in. Maple saw his nostrils flare, the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, and closed her eyes.
“Pony’s don’t close their eyes,” J.B. admonished softly. He met his gaze. His face was tight, the lines and wrinkles heightened. In his thirties, the hard Texas sun had already sent him the same stern and ageless look of Clint Eastwood. It was divine, sexy and stoic. It betrayed so little emotion that when Maple saw the torture there, the struggle etched into his frown, she couldn’t help but to feel triumph mixing with her sadness.
She didn’t want him to feel so torn.
But she was happy he was.
Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the stupidest thing she’d ever agreed to.
It was pitch black in the stable when she was jerked from her dreams by the creak of her stall door opening.
Her blanket was ripped off, stunning her, freezing her body like a possum in headlights. Before she could cry out, a warm body crashed down on hers and a hand smothered her mouth. The skin was bare, it’s heat rubbing against hers, but the friction was far from enticing. Menace, cool and cruel, was radiating all around her.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch,” Brie’s voiced hissed from the darkness. “I’ve got a message for you.”
Maple’s eyes went wide. What was happening?
“You’re just a whore, trying to shack up with a rich man. A low-grade slut. But this isn’t ‘Pretty Woman’ and you aren’t Julia Roberts. And you won’t find a happy ending.”
Brie’s fingernails were claws, cutting into Maple’s cheeks as she squeezed tighter. Brie pressed her hand harder, cutting off Maple’s ability to breath through her nose or mouth.
“You know who’s walking away from this with J.B.? It’s me. You think I didn’t do research? You think my hair, my appearance is just a coincidence? No. I saw pictures of his dead wife. Read the news stories, the small society articles. There’s always information on rich people like them.”
Maple’s lungs were burning, and she began to thrash. She was strong from working in the stables, but Brie was longer and had the upper hand, having caught her unaware. Maple was still too shocked by what she was hearing to fight back.
“They were happy, Bitch. He loved the shit out of that woman. Her ring was the size of fucking Texas! That’s going to be me. I’m going to replace dear, sweet, dead Rachel. I know you’ve seen how he looks at me. I’ve seen how he looks at you, too, and I’m telling you-- it won’t last.”
Now Maple began to fight harder, her need for air overriding the short circuits caused from her surprise and terror. Brie kneed her hard in her pussy.
The clit has more nerves in its tiny bundle than a penis, but it was still a gut-twisting shock to Maple how much it hurt. Her abs contorted, trying to double over, as shocks of pain jolted through her.
Brie got off, crouching over Maple’s fetal figure. “Just giving you a warning. Stay out of my way. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you’re sold to the meanest motherfucker out there.”
The brunette left her in the dark, with her heart pounding and feeling sick and confused about what had just happened.
Chapter Nine
Weeks passed with no other threats or incidents from Brie. It was almost like it hadn’t happened. But the stress of being aware of the monster in the stall next the hers was getting to Maple. Each night she couldn’t sleep, being afraid of another attack.
It didn’t help that Brie was winning over the other girls. Their late-night whispers were cruel and catty. Each time Maple got corrected or punished, they mocked her endlessly. What a terrible pony she was. How much she was disappointing J.B. Calling into question why such a stupid girl was there, when obviously she couldn’t be trained.
When she’d done well, or earned his praise… well, they were worse. At first Maple had been able to tune it out. It was just jealous, petty bickering. She was the one who followed the rules. Who wasn’t talking, who was being a pony 24-7. But their words crept under her skin, sending tendrils of doubt deeper into her heart.
She wasn’t sleeping at all, eventually. Just enough cat naps, filled with nightmares, to keep her alive. But her focus was slipping, as was her health, and quickly.
It meant that increasingly the girls were able to make fun of her for punishments, bec
ause she was screwing up all the time. In her sleepless and taunt-induced paranoia, she was certain she could see J.B.’s frustration and disapproval more and more.
It wasn’t just the looks he was giving her, either. The grooming at the end of the night was no longer the sensual, caring grooming of before. It was quick and haphazard. Sometimes she was escorted back to her stall with soap suds still in her hair.
It was pure torture. Too often she caught Brie’s gleeful smile, reinforcing her fears.
The worst part was knowing there was an out. Her safeword, maybe. It was there if J.B. went too far, but wasn’t it also there to protect her from emotional or physical discomfort? When things got too hard, or she was worried about her safety?
But she didn’t want to give up. J.B. was absolute about some things, and this was one of them. If she were to speak, even if it was to complain about Brie, he’d throw Maple out as well. Especially, she thought, because she’d made such a push to be in the stable in spite of his reluctance.
It wasn’t just that. Brie was directly threatening Maple. And Maple felt a need to take care of herself for once. To not have her parents come in and save her, or Raúl, or J.B. She wanted to prove that she wasn’t just a helpless victim, always waiting for someone stronger to come along and make things better.
The weather compounded everything. Maple had thought the heat of summer would bring relief. But they had skipped spring and launched straight into a typical West Texas summer. Which meant hot. The stable had some AC, but only enough to keep the temperatures inside safe for the women. Never cool.
This particular morning Maple didn’t wake because she’d never managed to fully fall asleep. Her mind had been too busy playing a scene from the day before, over and over. When J.B. had been training Brie, Maple had caught some things she wished she hadn’t. The small smile on J.B.’s lips when Brie had come while he whipped her. His hand brushing the small of Brie’s back on the way to the grooming area. Finally, the one that had been a dagger of doubt and fear, was seeing him whisper something in Brie’s ear.
Whatever it had been, Brie had blushed and smiled.
Each of those things had turned round and round, all night. When the birds began to chirp outside and the first dusty purples came in through the high stable windows, her eyes were itching with exhaustion. Sweat trickled between her breasts and shoulder blades. She was feeling stifled; both in spirit and in hope.
Then a most welcome distraction came.
J.B. entered with his typical morning door slam. What startled Maple wasn’t the door’s impact, but the second set of footsteps and smarmy voice. It was so familiar that she catapulted up and ran to her stall door.
Reece.
Walking beside J.B., he had on a summer suit. Seersucker. Seersucker! And yet, with his mischievous eyes and tumbled hair, he pulled the look off. His over-the-top cadence made her heart jump with joy and relief. If Reece was here, maybe she could find a way to get help without breaking the rules.
“I'm going to need more time this time, J.B.,” Reece was saying. “Last time, you forced me to work from photographs. IIt simply isn't the same, and my art suffered.”
“Profits were asere as high as they always are, though,” J.B. countered. “ So your art did its job, which is to sell the stock.”
“We’re friends-- oh,, don't give me that look you know we are, so you know how important perfection is for me.”
“The last time you crossed a line, Reece. Don't do that again, and you can have as much time as you need. This is a good group, mostly. I think they’ll be ready for the September auction.”
He and J.B. were peering in the stalls when he met her eyes. His widened, and she realized J.B. hadn’t told him that she’d entered the stable. Her face burned,, and she cast her eyes to the ground. Why she should be embarrassed, she wasn’t sure.
Then they passed Brie’s stall, and Reece gasped. “Fucking Christ, J.B.-- she looks just like--”
“Sure does.” J.B. cut him off, voice low.
Maple could just imagine Brie’s gleeful delight in this.
“I guess I'll start with her, then,” Reece said.
J.B. turned to talk to all of the ponies. “This is an artist. H. His name is Malcolm Reece. He is going to paint you to promote your equine aesthetic and increase your desirability amongst wealthier bidders. I've been doing this for several years, and I can assure you the paintings bring in quadruple the offers that a basic portrait would.
“Mr. Reece knows how you are supposed to act. If you speak to him, he will tell me, and our contract will be terminated.”
Maple wasn't sure she believed that J.B. was right about Reece. He liked secrets too much. Especially ones that dealt with his stoic rancher friend. Most likely he would encourage the girls to talk, and they would, and J.B. would be none the wiser.
As they all were dressed in tails and tack, Reece took Brie’s reins and led her from the stable. Maple burned with envy, worry, and hate.
With Brie gone, the other ponies looked around, shuffling in their discomfort. They looked to Brie for cues on how to act. It wouldn’t end well for them, Maple thought, when they were sold off as individuals. Without Brie, they’d have to learn all over again.
J.B. misread their unease. “Mr. Reece is a professional.”
And then it was time for exercise. He hooked them up to small carts. In the carts were a few twenty pound bags of grains. The carts looked small, but with the added weight, they were difficult to pull.
After he snapped the final pony girl into a cart via her harness, he pulled a whip off his wall. Maple cringed. She used to enjoy whippings, but that was before she’d lost so much sleep.
There’s a reason sleep deprivation is used as a method of torture; it breaks you down fast.
Now the lick of the whip was just another wound her body no longer had the energy to heal, much less indulge.
“Let’s go,” he barked, and all of them were off.
Maple’s shoulders strained as she tugged. The leather of her harness, usually soft and floppy, pulled taut and sharp against her skin. It cut in as she pushed, pushed, pushed with her legs, grunting with effort. Finally, reluctantly, the wheels on the cart began to turn.
Getting it to move was the hardest part. Pulling it? Well it wasn’t easy, but it didn’t require everything she had.
“Maple, you’re already behind,” J.B. snapped at her. The crack of the whip rang out, and she felt the lancing pain of it on the back of her thigh.
“Ponies, not all Masters want to see pretty little ponies prancing about. I’ve explained this to you! Many of them want to see you work. They want to laugh at your straining bodies. They’ll work you until you collapse on the ground, and then they’ll fuck you for it. We train so you can bear this. We train so you make them proud. We train so you earn your selling price. So stop loitering and pull those fucking carts!”
The heat of the stable quickly caught up with her. It was sweltering inside. Outside, she knew it would be dry heat-- the sun and arid air making her skin feel crispy. As they grunted and heaved inside, though, the humidity of humans at work began to build. It, along with the sweat dribbling down her body, created a sogginess that she felt in her limbs and lungs.
Soon the leather was chafing, sliding in her salty sweat in irritating channels on her skin.
“Damnit, Maple!” Another crack of the whip and her skin burst in electric pain on the backs of her thighs. Something wetter than normal trickled down, tickling the backs of her knees, and Maple knew he’d broken skin. More painful than that, though, was the sheer volume of disappointment threaded in his tone. Disgust, really.
The fact that she could repulse J.B. broke her heart and shattered her drive.
Finally, when the other pony girls were struggling as much as she was, he stopped them. His face was dark and stormy as he unhooked their harnesses and took them off, leaving everyone in bit, bridle, and tail.
Each girl looked warily at the red rashes
forming where the harness had been. Maple peeked at the backs of her legs and saw her blood running from crimson to pink as it mixed with her sweat.
In a small act of kindness, J.B. brought them all back to the grooming area at once and hosed the lot of them down with cool water.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
His stony gaze never left Maple, and the pieces of her heart continued to splinter.
“Get back in your stalls,” he growled. No one hesitated. They were too tired, too sore and hungry, to complain or loiter.
Maple collapsed on her straw bed. The only good thing about Brie being away with Reece was that she could finally plummet into sleep.
