Beauty's Release - By A. N. Roquelaure & Anne Rice Page 0,73
And I saw a tall stable boy approaching, a strongly built blond-haired young man, no more than twenty, with light freckles on his sun-darkened face and bright, cheerful green eyes. He smiled as he walked around us, his hands on his hips. Tristan and I stretched out our limbs, but we didn’t dare move any more than that.
I heard one of the soldiers say:
“Two more, Gareth. And you’ll have them the full year. Scrub them, feed them, and harness them up right away. Captain’s orders.”
“Beauties, sir, beauties,” said the boy cheerfully. “All right, you two. Up on your feet. Ever been ponies before? I want a nod or a shake of the head, not a verbal answer.” He gave my bottom a slap as I rose. “Arms behind your back, folded, that’s it!” I saw his hand squeeze Tristan’s backside. Tristan was still badly shaken, and he bowed his head, looking oddly regal as well as defeated, a sight that was heartrending even to me.
“And what’s all this?” said the boy, taking out a clean linen handkerchief and wiping Tristan’s tears, and then mine. He had a stunning face, the boy, big handsome smile. “Tears from a pair of good ponies?” he said. “We can’t have that now, can we? Ponies are proud creatures. They cry when they’re punished. Otherwise they march with their heads high. That’s it.” He gave me a good slap under the chin, snapping my head up. Tristan had already lifted his head properly.
The boy went round us again in a circle. My cock was pumping more madly than ever. A new form of debasement was being visited upon us. No Court and villagers to watch now. We were in the charge of this rough-hewn young servant, and even glancing at his high brown boots and his powerful hands, still on his hips, excited me.
But a shadow suddenly fell over the stable, and I realized that my old friend, the Captain of the Guard, had come in.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” said the boy. “Congratulations on the mission. The whole village is afire with the gossip.”
“Gareth, I’m glad you’re here,” said the Captain. “I want these two to be your special charge. You’re the best groom in the village.”
“You flatter me, Captain.” The boy laughed. “But I don’t think you’ll find anyone here who loves his work more than I do. And these two, gorgeous steeds! Look at the way they stand. They have pony blood. I can see it already.”
“Harness them together whenever it’s possible,” said the Captain. I saw his hand go up to stroke Tristan’s head. He took the white handkerchief from the boy and wiped Tristan’s face again.
“You know, this is the best punishment you could have drawn, Tristan,” the Captain said under his breath. “You know you need it.”
“Don’t be. You and Laurent will be the pride of the stables in no time. There’ll be a list on the door out there of the villagers who want to hire you.”
Tristan shuddered. “I need courage, Captain,” he said.
“No, Tristan,” he said seriously, “you need the harness and the bit and stern discipline, as you needed it before. You must understand something about being a pony. It is not merely another part of your slavery. It is a way of life unto itself.”
A way of life unto itself.
He stepped over to me, and I felt my cock stiffen as if it were possible for it to get any stiffer. The stable boy stood back with his arms folded, watching all this, his yellow hair falling down on his forehead a little, freckles very pretty in the sunshine. Such nice white teeth.
“And you, Laurent? Tears from you?” the Captain said soothingly to me. He wiped my face again. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened?”
“I don’t know, Captain,” I said. I wanted to say that I wouldn’t know until the bit and harness and the phallus were in place. But that would have been asking for it. I didn’t have the courage to ask for it. It would come soon enough.
“Chances are,” he said, “that this is where you would have been placed if the Sultan’s soldiers hadn’t raided the village.” He put his arm around my shoulder, and it seemed suddenly real, the time we had spent at sea, when we had both whipped and played with Lexius and Tristan. “It’s the perfect thing for you,” he assured me. “You have more will and strength pumping in your veins than most