In her mind, as she gritted her teeth even though it hurt her to do so, Mandy fumed at him. She was furious. Livid. And she wanted out at any cost. She hated the man next to her, she hated this whole situation, and if it killed her, so be it; she was going to get the fuck out of here. Case closed.
But as rabidly as her mind kept repeating how it detested the circumstances she currently found herself in, her body managed stubbornly to betray her at every single turn. Her body was primed and ready for whatever they threw at her next.
She had always had dominance and submission fantasies – and although no one who knew her would have guessed, she was always the submissive in the storyline, always the captive forced to do the sheik’s obscene bidding, always the Rebel sympathizer cornered in her plantation basement by a huge, masculine Yankee Colonel come to occupy her house and her body and eventually her heart.
The big man’s movements were slow and easy but unconscious, as if he’d done this a million times and gave no particular thought to it, and all he did at first was merely brush her hair. Mandy realized that she must’ve been up on some sort of platform, because her shoulders were about nipple level with his chest, and on all fours as she was she would never be that tall. As if he’d read her mind, he began to speak. “You’re on a grooming platform,” Aaron kept the same gentle tone through out, but gave her information that he thought would help her soothe herself. With some fillies it was the unknown that scared them the most about things… or first times doing things, and not just sex. Once they’d done something and been okay doing it and nothing bad happened to them while they did it, they were fine to do it again on command, even. But a lot of the smarter fillies were xenophobic. They had lost any control over the lives and their surroundings and their bodies, but they were not going to do something unfamiliar on top of that. Sometimes, Aaron mused, the smarter ones had it harder – but he had to smile. He felt, though, that those mares were the most challenging to help adjust to their new lifestyle. They were the ones worth working extra hard with, worth being extra hard on, because if they could be turned, then they would be fantastic brood mares, and they would add their tremendous strength to the Stables’ bloodlines.
“You’ll be groomed thoroughly at least twice a day – morning and evening – more often if you’re taken outside at all, which you really won’t be much during your training period.” He had put some sort of sweet smelling lotion on his hands, and proceeded to start to rub it all over her back. Mandy’s head came up as far as it could, and he could see that she was drinking in the new smell as much as possible. “I think we’ll use lilac and lavender with you. Royal purple suits a fine, blooded filly like you.” The massage felt great – only Mandy didn’t want it to feel great, and for a while she tried to avoid his hands. He never made mention of her efforts, although he certainly must have noticed them, just kept rubbing and speaking in hushed tones.
“Generally, you’ll be awakened at six or so, and you’ll have a good, nutritious breakfast, and then you’ll be groomed and washed and perfumed and powdered to within an inch of your life so that you’re all beautiful and pretty – not that you’re not already – and then maybe – when you’re not in training – you’ll be turned out into the indoor paddock that’s just down the hallway here while your groom – that’s the man, Ted, that you just met – cleans out your stall and lays down fresh hay. The hay will have lilac or lavender pot pourri in it, too, so you’ll be all coordinated in your smells with your bedding and your soaps and your lotions and the perfume we’ll use on you if we put you in the ring, and when you lay down to sleep at night on purple silk and velvety blankets, you’ll smell clean and familiar scents. All of your fabric bedding and blankets will all be washed and dried with softeners that are either lilac or lavender, too. Perhaps Ted with rotate them for you weekly – we’ll have to think about that, or maybe he and I will pick the scent that best seems to suit you.”
He pushed a button – Mandy heard a click and a whir – and the platform she was on was raised up a bit. The next place he put his hands was her stomach, making her start and try to arch her back up and away from him. “Shh-shh-shh, honey-girl. I’m not gonna hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact. Just relax and let it feel good, baby.”
Aaron continued to talk to her as he massaged her flat belly for a little while, then moved to the fronts of her thighs, which were trim and slim as if she was a runner, then eventually to her calves and bare feet. “Now where you go once he’s gotten your stall all fixed up for you will depend – some days you’ll just rest either in the paddock with the other fillies or in your stall, although there won’t be a lot of those during your training. Most days you’ll have something to do, even if it’s just being lunged on a line by your groom – you’ll get some sort of exercise, morning and afternoon, for maybe an hour or so each session.” He carefully skipped over what she would probably be doing for some other hours during the day, but there was no sense in getting her all upset right now. She was already distressed enough as it was.
“If you’re in the paddock around noon, all of our girls are fed together at the troughs. Cold spring water bubbles up into the paddock as well as all of the stalls, so water is always available. After you eat, you’ll be put down for some rest – ponygirls can get bloat if they’re exercised or running around playing in the paddock on a full stomach. During the afternoon, you might have some training or you might just have your exercise or something else and then some time in the paddock or your stall. Dinner is at six – and then usually quiet time in your stall until your groom grooms you again then puts you to bed for the night at nine.”
By now she had stopped shivering, partly in response to what he was doing and partly because she was concentrating on what he was doing. Aaron felt that she was loosened up enough for him to do what he’d wanted to do the whole time. He put a warm, lotioned palm over each of her breasts and began to actively massage them. She reacted exactly as he’d expected, trying to jump away from his gentle but firm motions, but she couldn’t even move enough to bring her breasts out of his hands. “Shh-shhh-shh, babygirl. I only want you to feel good. This is something your groom is going to do to you every morning and every evening until we bring in your milk. And I will probably do it every time I see you because your breasts just call to me; they beg to be squeezed and milked and your tight little nipples definitely need to be pulled and pinched to make them hurt just right – just as you like them to be.”
Oh, God, he had to stop doing this! He had to – it was feeling too damned good for her to resist! If he continued, there was no way she was going to be able to prevent herself from coming. But she couldn’t get away from him, and he wasn’t about to stop. She couldn’t even scream or rail at him; Amanda could only stand there on her hands and knees and be touched and fondled as if she was this man’s property rather than a high-powered bank executive.
She was shivering again, but he knew that it was not with cold, it was with annoyance and desire. Her nipples were firmer than they had been when he started, and he could hear the changes in her breathing that betrayed her body’s interest in his manipulations, so he kept them up quite deliberately and even increased the pressure of his touch, trying to make her moan and succeeding after only a few more minutes. “That’s it, Mandy-girl,” he praised when an almost agonized moan rumbled up from deep in her belly. “I know it feels good – it’s supposed to. Just let me pleasure you, honey. I’m gonna do it anyway. Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.”
His words only made her fight harder, which he’d known there was a high probability was going to happen, but she wore down faster this time to another moan when one of his hands ran down her taut belly to part those pretty red lips in a no-nonsense fashion, as if it was something he did every day. If she could have squealed, she would have, but he knew exactly what he was doing, so her outrage at his audacity in touching her so intimately was largely diffused into a moan of ecstasy at the touch of his knowing fingers, which made the whole of her body suffuse a beautiful glowing pink.