Learning to Ride
by DarkWolf
5300 words
The slave was of an undetermined age. Old enough to marry, certainly, though the buyer had it on good authority that she was a virgin. He did not know if she had been picked up in a village raid, or if her family had sold her, times being as they were. It did not matter. He was not buying her for himself, after all. He was the go between. An eccentric lord to the south had request just such a girl. Fully grown, wide hips, sufficiently used to the weather that she would not grow cold easily, and, of utmost importance, a virgin. That had been the hardest qualification to find. There were very few traders who dealt in flesh that wouldn't sample their own wares before market. He fastened the chain around the girl's neck to the back of his cart and hitched up his horses. He was going to need to keep an eye on this one. It cost him a good month's work to find her and he was not going to have to go looking for another one, just because one of his guards got playful.
- - -
She arrived at the lord's estates two weeks later. Coming out of his great house, he looked her over, checked her teeth, then ordered a bath to be drawn. While she was being scrubbed clean he paid the man, gold she thought, and then had the chain removed from her neck. She scrubbed extra hard where its metal had been chaffing at her. When the bath was over, she was quickly and efficiently dried. Then a tether was attached to her, at her wrists, binding them behind her back. Nude, she was led to the stables.
It was a vast building, divided into sections. First she walked past some twenty stalls, each housing a horse. Some were ponies, some great draft horses, but judging from the sparkle of their eyes and the gleam of their coats, all were well carried for. Next came the tack rooms. Wall upon wall, rack upon rack, covered with saddles, bridles, riding gloves, and boots, and saddlebags. The scent of leather was thick in the air, as was some other perfume that she could not name. The back of the stables was odd. She could not quite decide what its use was. Watering troughs were everywhere, with bars laid parallel to the troughs just above them. Lengths of rope that she could not help but think of as stirrups hung roughly three feet in front of the bars. Tables stood across, with just room for someone to stand between the trough and the table. There were some dozen pairs of stirrups hanging from the rafters. She could not imagine what it was all for.
"Tom!" The man beside her shouted.
A man came running from one of the enclosures around the room. He was perhaps five years her elder, with red brown hair, and freckles. He bowed to the lord.
"The girl has finally arrived. I told that thief I would pay him an extra five gold if he had more here by the end of the month. You would think I sent him after ostrich eggs, for all his babbling about rarity of stock..." He paused and then seemed to remember himself. "She is your's to train. Make sure she understands her duties. I expect her to be fully trained within the month."
Tom nodded.
The man smiled. "You know your job well, Boy, and I trust you. If you need more time to work with her, let me know. I paid too much for this one to have her made useless by trying to break her too fast."
With that, he handed the tether to Tom and walked out.
She stared up at her new master; fear and confusion clear on her face. She had not been at all sure what the lord had been speaking about, save that it involved her, but it had not sounded pleasant.
In turn, Tom smiled. "It's alright, New One. Don't mind him too much. He's more used to dealing with horses than people is all. You'll be wanting something to drink?"
Swallowing her fear, the girl nodded. She was led to one of the side walls, were a lower trough was filled with water. Maybe those center troughs weren't for water?
"Please, sir," she asked, ready to be struck for speaking. When no blow came, merely a patient nod for her to continue, she asked, "What am I doing here? What are to be my duties?"
The man smiled, though she noticed that the look did not fully reach his eyes. "It's not hard work. Mostly you'll be helping keep the stables fit. Helping with the horses. Do you like horses?"
"I've only rarely seen them."
"Well, you'll be seeing a lot more of them now." He nodded. "If you've drunk your fill, I'll show you to where you'll be sleeping. It's late already. Your duties will start first thing in the morning."
She was shown to a small stall, with a food trough along the far wall. Lying down in the straw she noticed a runner along the roof, such that an animal might be fastened to. She wondered what type of animal used to be kept in these stalls, before slaves. She was confident no animal had been held in this stall for some time, as the walls smelt too fresh. Exhausted, she fell asleep.
- - -
The next morning she was awakened by Tom shaking her shoulder. "Ready for a long day?"
She nodded groggily, and was led out of the stall, into the strange room. She was led again to the watering trough, then to one of the other troughs. This time, there was tack laid out on the table across from her. She looked at it confused. Then she felt her arms being lifted up, still tied behind her. She tried to look around, over her shoulder. Her tether had been attached to a runner along the ceiling, and then shortened. She looked around for Tom, but did not immediately see him. Then she felt arms around her waist. She froze.
She was lifted up, over the trough, such that she was almost sitting in it, with her arms threaded over the bar. When Tom stepped into sight again, it was to lift her feet up into the stirrups that hung just in front of her. She hung there, terrified, suspended and spread to the world. She could not imagine what he might be going to do that could not have been done to her just as easily in the stall where she slept. She felt humiliated and terrified, not knowing what he was about to do. Then she felt him touch her.
It was not an intimate stroke, though it was to an intimate place. She felt his finger shove deep into her, but then rather than continuing to fondle her, he merely withdrew his hand entirely. She tried to shift to see what he was doing. She felt his finger slide in again. And out. She felt her heart skip. What little she could see of his face, he did not look like a man who was enjoying tormenting someone. He looked like a worker performing a tedious and rather boring task. Again his finger slid in. Again out. For an hour this continued. For two. After three hours, she thought she might go mad if he did not show some interest in what he was doing. In his fingers would go, for now she was damp enough that four fingers fit easily, and then out they would slide. At one point she thought she noticed him holding one of the saddles from the table. At another point she thought he held a glove.
At what she thought was the fourth hour, when she was well past insane, he stopped, and walked away from her. She thought about calling after him, but what good would it do? Some minutes later he returned with a bucket and a dipper.
"Midday," he said, offering her some water from the dipper. Then he offered her a carrot.
Her mind raced with questions. She was not sure what good any of them would do her.
"You are doing well," he told her. "For a beginner. You'll get better with time." He offered her more water. "Make sure to drink plenty. That is the biggest trick to learn." Some oats were offered to her from his hand. Another carrot. More water. "I'm almost done oiling the first set of tack. I didn't expect to get through more than a single horse's worth today, but we might finish two by days end, if you stay watered."
She sputtered. Oiled? He was... She was... Suddenly the few glimpses of what she could see him doing fell into place. He was oiling the riding tack. Oiling it with her juices. She swallowed more water, as he offered it. Her mind raced. Was that all? Was that it? She was here to supply oil for leather?
She tried to find the words to express her confusion. "You... You said I was here to help with the horses. This is it?"
He shrugged. "This is all you need to worry about for now. Later you will be brushing them down and other such tasks. But one thing at a time. You seem to learn quickly, but I want to make sure you are doing this well before we move on to anything else."
The rest of the day was a blur. Every time Tom stroked her inner regions she tried to tell herself that there was nothing intimate about the motion. That there was no need for her heart to be racing. If he ever noticed how her breathing would become labored, he never mentioned it. He also never changed the pace at which he harvested. By nightfall she was insane with the need to orgasm. She was certain that all she needed to do was brush her finger near herself and the waves would last for hours. To her dismay, however, when he unhooked her and led her back to her stall, he fastened her tether to the runner along the ceiling.
"What?" She asked, confused.
"You'll be learning to sleep standing up. The runner will let you reach the food to the back. Sleep well."
She did not sleep at all.
- - -
Slowly the days became routine, and the days flowed into weeks. By the second week she was able to have the entire tack room oiled by midday, a feat she would have thought impossible before coming to the stables. She was still not sleeping easily, though she was sleeping. Slowly her body had become used to the constant throbbing, without any clear signal of release. At times she suspected that Tom would even stop oiling the tack, just to let her calm down, so that she was not able to cum simply from the rhythmic motion. For two weeks her life was spent climbing into and out of the stirrups. Then she was introduced to the horses.
It was midday when Tom first led her into the room with them. Twenty beautiful stallions. She had not realized at first that they were all stallions but it soon became evident. Her tether was removed and she was given a brush, a jar of ointment, and a rag. Tom showed her what to do with the first horse. Taking the brush, using slow and measured strokes, he went over the entire animal. When he was certain that no dirt or tangles remained, he handed the brush to her. He then took the rag and, dipping it into the jar of ointment, smeared it over the horse's nose. The stallion shook his head, but then relaxed as Tom began massaging it into his skin. When that was completed, he lowered himself down to a crouch, level with the creature's stomach. Gently Tom stroked a sack near the horse's rear legs. She watched wide eyed as a gigantic shaft slipped free of the sack. Drenching his rag with oil again, Tom took the member in both hands and began massaging it. He only stopped when it had been fully covered, now glistening in the noonday light.
Standing and stretching, he said, "There." He handed her the jar and the rag. The jar was a third empty. "You finish the others. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. When that jar is empty you will find others in the tack room. Don't be afraid to use too much." With that, he left.
- - -
It was slow work, but easy to learn. By day's end she had treated ten of the horses, going through an additional three jars. Tom came back exhausted, smelling of leather. As he led her back to her stall, tether re-secured, she was surprised to see someone else hanging in the stirrups. The girl was thrashing and moaning as a nervous stable hand tried to harvest her juice. Had she ever made that much noise, even on her first day? When Tom noticed that she had stopped, he tugged at the lead and hurried her back to her stall. As he secured the lead to the runner, he spoke.
"She's just arrived last night. You're getting along beautifully with your training, so she'll be getting most of my attention from here on. One of the other boys will be working with you in the morning, then you'll be working with the horses in the afternoon."
That said, he patted her on the rump and walked out, closing the stall door behind him. She hung there, emotions warring. She had not been badly treated since arriving here. Oddly treated, yes, but not badly. The worst that could be said was that her owners seemed indifferent to her, sexually. How many slaves had she heard beg for just such neglect, when she had been in the pens? What was wrong with her to desire such attention? Did she desire such attention, or was it merely jealously that her trainer was going to be working with someone else?
- - -
The next day she was already awake when a new face came to fetch her. He was nervous, younger than Tom. When she was secured in the stirrups, she felt herself begin to flow almost immediately. She tried to hide her grin as she heard his breath quicken. His hands were not as steady as Tom's as he harvested. He did not play indifferent nearly so well. But he knew his job and did not want to risk being dismissed. He harvested and oiled as best he could. He stopped to let her rest when his sloppy hands had let her get a touch too close to completion. When he let her down from the stirrups, so that she could water herself and then go see to the horses, she could feel his erection pressing tight against her back. But he did nothing. She was confident that he disappeared out behind the stable as soon as she was out of sight. It was power of a sort, and she relished it, during her slow walk to the stallions.
Again, her days became routine. By the end of the first week she did not need to stroke the stallions to make them drop. They were learning as well. As soon as she touched the ointment to their noises, sometimes as soon as she opened the jar, the subject would drop. By the end of the second week she was supplying enough oil to treat all of the tack twice over, and successfully ministering to all twenty horses in the time provided. It was late in the afternoon of that second week, after she had finished with the horses, yet before anyone had come looking for her, while getting a drink from the trough, that she heard them. The Lord and Tom were speaking to each other, a thin wall's width away.
"How goes the training of the new girl?"
"Not well, sir. She's a bit of a disappointment really."
"How so?"
"I don't know if she does not understand what we are asking of her, or if she is simply refusing to cooperate. Either way I am becoming skeptical that she can learn."
The lord sounded disappointed as he answered. "Give her another week. If she still is not having any progress, give her to the stable hands. As I understand it they are in sore need of some relaxation."
"Yes, sir."
Give her to the stable hands? Did he mean... She shivered where she stood, water dripping from her mouth.
"Now, how fares the other girl? Your prize?"
"Oh, she's doing wonderfully. Better than I ever expected. She's mostly trained now. All that's left is to take her riding."
She shivered, swallowed, and stepped away from the wall. As she strode back to the horses, her mind was a tumble. What did it all mean? That she was the star pupil seemed clear, and silently she was very proud of that, but what of the other girl? If she had heard correctly, she was going to be disciplined by being given exactly what she wanted. A cold resentment pooled in her, but she tried to suppress it. They were good masters. She must have missed something. Misheard something. She returned to the horses and awaited her escort to her stall.
- - -
The next morning Tom came himself to fetch her. She was so surprised that she did not notice at first that he was not leading her to the stirrups. He was leading her to the horses. A set of stalls, normally empty, stood to the back of the horse enclosure, and it was to this he lead her. Inside she could see a pony pawing at the ground.
"What?' she asked, forgetting herself for the moment.
"Change in schedule again, Lovely." He smiled and held the door open for her to step into the stall.
Confused, she turned toward the room with the brushes and the jars.
Tom shook his head. "Nope. Already inside. Everything you need is in there." Again, he waved for her to enter.
Hesitantly, on tiptoe, she stepped inside.
The stall was larger on the inside than it had appeared. It could have easily held three horses, rather than merely the pony that stood untethered in the center. Looking around for her brush she realized that there was none. It was at that moment that she heard the door behind her swing to, heard a bolt slide into place. She looked behind her, panicked, though she was unsure why. The door was tall and solid. If there had been a stool she might have been able to climb out, but it was not likely. There was no stool. The stall contained herself and the horse and nothing more. On the far wall, where she was used to seeing a feeding trough was mounted two rungs. Handles, she thought they looked like, at about waist level. Why would one want handles mounted to a wall?
The pony came up to her then. He was the smallest of her charges, standing four and a half feet at the shoulder. As she stroked his forelock, he shook his head free and shoved his muzzle into her crotch. Her reaction was immediate. Stumbling back she felt her body begin to shudder at the same moment that she felt wetness pooling at her core. It was then that she realized what was wrong. It was the wrong time of day. Her body was not expecting her to deal with horses right now. It was expecting to be stroked. It was expecting to be prodded. The moisture it was producing began to flow down her legs as she thought about it. She considered calling for help. Surely Tom was not too far away. But Tom had brought her here. Tom had locked the door. For all she knew, he might well be waiting on the other side of the stall, listening. She looked back at the horse. Her heart nearly stopped.
The pony was looking at her, eyes glazed. His muzzle was damp where he had forced it into her crotch. But that was not what made her breath stop. He had dropped. Standing in front of her was a fully erect horse with a glazed look in his eyes, and no way for her to get out. She thought she might scream, as it took a step toward her. Instead, she swallowed. A crazy thought occurred to her. Reaching down, she gathered a small lather of her juice on her hand. Raising it to her nose, she finally understood.
The ointment. That was what the trough was for that hung under her during the oiling. Every day for the last two weeks she had been smearing a distilled version of her own scent all over the horse's nose. Then, every time, massaging the same substance into his shaft. After the first week, just the scent of the ointment had been enough to make him drop. Her scent. And now she was trapped, locked in a stall alone with a horse, with her juices flowing down her leg. They had been conditioning her to be inhumanly wet every morning. Was it really simply to oil the tack? Unlikely. Suddenly the use for those handles was obvious.
Resolving herself to her fate, she walked up to the pony, and then past him, to the back wall. Bending over at the waist, she took one handle in each hand and braced herself, legs spread. She had wanted relief. She had wanted someone to touch her, just once. She heard her equine companion whinny, then felt his muzzle again pressed into her. She felt her body shudder. So close. Would she finally cum this time?
It began slowly. As she felt his stomach pressed tight against her back, felt him try to guide his shaft to her opening, she remembered the feel of it in her hands. So large. The length of her forearm and every bit as thick. And he was the smallest of the horses. As his head finally penetrated, she shuddered, wanting to scream out. The pleasure of the orgasm carried her past the pain of deflowering, but as he continued to push, driving himself deeper and deeper into her, she thought she might die. When at last she thought it was impossible to take any more, she felt him begin to draw out. She was panting, gasping, trying to prepare herself for what would come next. She had no idea. When next he thrust into her, she was enveloped by a second orgasm, then a third. Thrust after thrust until finally she felt the horse reach his completion. She stood there panting as she heard the door open, felt her mount being led away. She could feel its seed dripping down her leg, mixed with her own juices. It was... She could not describe it.
Suddenly she realized that someone was standing next to her. Turning her head, she saw Tom looking at her.
"Still in one piece?"
"I..."
He held up a finger for silence. "Just nod or shake. Or stamp your foot if you like." He smiled. "They aren't fond of voices. It confuses them. If the lord catches you talking to them, while you're in here at least, he'll have a bit put in your mouth to keep you quiet. Nothing to spook his dears. Understand?"
Wide eyed, she nodded.
Seeming to take that as an answer to both his questions, he nodded and patted her on the hands. "Good then. Stay here and I'll fetch the next fellow."
She ministered to three horses that day. Three. That was all there had been time for before sunset. As Tom led her back to her stall, following it all, she realized she was still shaking. Was this what shock felt like? This strange tingling that left her not caring or knowing if her feet were connecting with the ground at each step? Or was this something else? She felt more than heard the doorlatch click into place behind her. It was only as she was turning that she realized what was strange. She had not been tethered. Then she saw that Tom was still in the stall with her. Sitting on the straw. She stared.
He smiled. If she had to guess, she would have said he was trying to be reasurring. She looked over at the tether lead, confused.
"You can talk in here, Sweet. He just doesn't want his horses spooked."
Swallowing, she tried to find her voice. "I... I..."
"Have a seat. Or a lay down, if you'd rather. You've earned it."
She blinked, and sat down on the straw across from him.
"Still a bit overwhelmed by it all?"
She nodded, and he mirrored the motion, as if in understanding.
"I imagine it's not the easiest of things to get used to. But I hear once you get settled into it, you'll never want anything else." He was looking down at his hands, clasped in his lap, as he said it. She thought she saw color rising in his cheeks. Tom?
She thought she was finally calm enough to speak but was at a loss of what to say.
"You did well today. If you keep up to this standard, you may be able to ask the lord for anything. Anything in reason."
She found her voice, and her question. "Why?"
"Hmm?"
"Why?" She motioned all around her, to the roof beam with her tether, to the various tools outside, to the space between her legs.
Again, Tom blushed, causing her to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
"How much do you know of horses?" he asked. "Did you ever really spend time with them before you were bought?"
She shook her head.
He nodded. "This place. This many stallions. You don't do this. You don't put this many stallions together in a single stable. Any normal stallions, they would be fighting with each other. Fighting to the death, or at least until they had driven each other away. Stallions don't play well together." He paused for breath. "Do you know why they fight?"
Again, she shook her head, though in truth she thought she had an idea.
"They fight over mares. Over the right to breed. If a mare was to be brought into this stable, every horse in here would go crazy. If a stallion were brought in who had recently studded to a mare, the others would likely kill him. There is no good way to keep this many stallions in one place. Not for any long period of time."
She looked at him, confused. "But I have been her a month at least. And the lord had said that it took months to find me. Should they not have started attacking each other before then?"
Tom smiled. "That is the lord's secret. That is what gives him such status among the other nobles. The fact that he can do the impossible. You see, there is a trick to it. If a mare was brought in, they would fight over her... that is their instinct to survive. But it was the lord's wife, may her soul rest, that first thought it odd that they would attack a neighbor who had recently studded. The deed is already done. Why attack him?"
She looked at him, questions in her eyes.
He whispered, "Jealousy."
She blinked.
"Jealousy of the other stallion. And with that idea, the two of them, the lord and lady, they started trying to think of why the horses would be jealous. And of how they might stop it. I think you can guess what answer they came up with."
"Me." Her voice was faint.
He shrugged. "Well. First it was her. But yeah. Again, it was her ladyship's idea. If the stallions were jealous of the horse who had just been used to stud, then they must be upset that they were not all being used to stud more often. So the trick would be to get them all mates. Mates that they would not be jealous of. They tried all manner of things at first, before her ladyship finally volunteered to give it a go on her own. The lord had thought her mad. But it worked. So long as they all were mated with regularly, and so long as it was not an actual mare, the horses did not get jealous. They actually seemed to perform better in races and hunts and studding. The lord became the envy of them all."
"And all it cost him was his wife."
Tom gave a small laugh. "You noticed that part did you? Aye. Once she got used to visiting the stables, she never seemed to visit their bedchamber again. Not for the ten years that she still lived. Though I have heard that if one listened closely, it was not always the horses she was entertaining in the stalls."
She stared at him, aghast.
Blinking at her, confused, he suddenly realized what he had said. "The lord. I am sure it was the lord she was entertaining. He would have killed any of us who laid a hand on her. Set his hounds to hunting us while he rode one of her precious horses." He cleared his throat. "All the same, on the nights when she could be heard entertaining... after the lord had left back up to his rooms, you could usually hear at least one of the beasts up and screaming. I gather it just must not have been the same... afterward."
Her throat was dry. His wife. Her master's wife... doing the same task that she was. Volunteering for it. Relishing it. "How long?"
"She kept it up for ten years, until she died."
"No. How long.... for me?"
Tom blinked. "I dunno. For the rest of you life I suspect. Would you want to stop?"
She thought about it. Felt her heart racing. Felt her thighs growing damp. Damp at the idea of spending the rest of her life riding horses.
"No." It came out as a breathy whisper. "No, I wouldn't."
This time Tom's face was nearly scarlet. She could clearly see the erection he was hiding under his palms. A stray thought crossed her mind. Does Tom know my scent as well as the horses do? It was a silly thought. Of course he did. But she had not expected it to have the same results.
"Tom." He looked up at her, startled. Her voice had been gentle. Comforting. "Tom, did you ever want to go riding with her ladyship?"
His face turned even redder than before, if possible. Adamantly, he shook his head. "No, ma'am. No. Not her."
Not her. That decided it then, didn't it. "Do you ever want to go riding with me?"
He was on his feet in an instant, springing for the door. "I should go. I should let you rest. You have a busy day tomorrow."
She let him flee. He was right. She did have a busy day tomorrow. And she wanted to do a good job. He had said that the lord was proud of her. Pleased with her progress. And that if he was pleased enough, that he might grant her certain liberties. Perhaps choosing a riding partner of her own? Time would tell. For now she needed her sleep.
She laid her head down in the straw and felt herself drift away. Off to sleep, and dreams. Dreams of riding, and horses.