And so it went for the next several days. Arabella discovered it quite liberating to let go of her inhibitions and to let Henri have complete and total control of her. Her fear of the whip and the paddle, while not altogether alleviated, was strangely exhilarating, heightening her own sexual arousal. She still felt somewhat uncomfortable surrounded by the amused scrutiny of total strangers as she pranced about naked in the stable yard, but Henri assured her this, too, would go away, given time.

Arabella gloried in her own nakedness, loved the feel of her own silken skin and the sensations Henri evoked within her after one of his excellent massages. She became more aware of her own breasts than she ever had before, especially since Henri praised them so, telling her they were prettiest attribute. She loved the feel of the sun warm on her bare skin, the feel of Henri's fingers manipulating the little jewel between her legs as she parted her thighs for him.

Arabella felt herself becoming a sensual creature, luxuriating in the delights and pleasures of the flesh. Arabella began to show off slightly in front of the other mares when out in the yard. Although all of the mares at Belsoie were given the same treatment from their own stable hands as Arabella received from Henri, Arabella was special, and they were all aware of it, albeit a bit enviously. She was the festival mare, the one who would service Sajan, the stallion whom they had vied for amongst each other, before Lord Thayer had brought Arabella into the fold. It was an honor they envied for many reasons.

Because Lord Thayer maintained his own private coterie, very few of the regular mares were ever privileged to enter Lord Thayer's quarters in the castle. And because Lord Thayer restricted his mare's access to full sexual intercourse, most of them had long been without a male companion, except on the occasions when he let his stable hands sport with them or when a visiting nobleman would purchase a mare from his lordship for a term of service away from Belsoie. Occasionally, for his own, or his men's amusement, he would allow some of the mares to couple together and to pleasure each other. It helped to keep them complacent, less short-tempered with one another, more amenable to their training and discipline.

But now, Arabella was in his lordship's favor and she was as aware of it as much as they were. She couldn't help but preen just a little beneath their indignant stares. Henri would laugh aloud, smacking her on the bottom when he thought her just a little too cocky. He knew very well what she was up to and allowed her to show off, just a bit now and then, when it pleased him to do so.

Her body no longer rebelled at being put in the harness. Indeed, she had begun to feel safe and secure within it. She like the feel of the belt encasing her slim hips, the leather straps binding her breasts, lifting the delicate globes up and away from her body. The short-cuffed, high-heeled boots had taken some getting used to, but after she'd mastered walking in them, she didn't mind so much. She was even getting used to Cynan and Owyn putting their hands on her to tie her laces or to make other adjustments with the harness and belt. They were restricted from touching her in any lascivious way, but that didn't stop them from trying whenever Henri's back was turned, or he was otherwise occupied. Their leering grins would taunt her, daring her to speak out against them knowing that she was not allowed, as they casually pawed her, pinching and groping in places that sent shudders all through her body. But she was not allowed to chastise them, and the two oafs knew it. Sometimes, Henri caught them, and then he would curse and box their ears for good measure. Other times, they were too sly or too quick and got away with it. But Arabella was not too complain. Her body was not her own anymore.

Arabella longed to serve and pleasure another. However, the one whose touch she craved, whose attentions she longed for above all else, very rarely showed himself or made his presence known in the days and weeks after her capture. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of him at a distance, observing her progress in the stable yard. He would praise Henri for the fine job he was doing with her, but never addressed her directly as he would do with the other mares who pranced about the yard. He would smile and make some teasing remark to them while gently fondling a full breast here, pinching a distended nipple there, or laughingly swat at a firm, bare buttock, but he never approached Arabella in the same way.

On a few occasions, he accompanied the Lady Xaviera down to the stable yards, and the two of them had stood outside the fence of the paddock where Henri happened to be putting her through her paces that day. His lordship's lady was very petite, with shimmering, gossamer hair that hung like a veil around her heart-shaped face. Her blue eyes sparkling with merriment, Xaviera was as excited as a young child watching Arabella, while Arabella observed, with no little jealousy, the way Lord Thayer caressed his young wife quite openly. It was obvious how much they adored one another, the affection between them. When one afternoon she observed Lord Thayer bending down to kiss his wife, somewhat obscenely it appeared to Arabella with mounting envy, the kiss pierced her heart. Thayer had lifted his head, saw Arabella watching them intently, then smiled into the longing expression on her face. He leaned close to whisper into his lady's ear, and Xaviera giggled, casting her bright blue eyes askance at Arabella. Then, with an arrogant angle of her head, she'd taken her husband's arm, and they'd casually turned to walk away, leaving her alone again with Henri.

Yet, Arabella had detected that same look in Lord Thayer's dark, enigmatic eyes that she'd seen directed at her on other occasions. . . . .and she sensed that Lord Thayer wanted her very much in the same way she wanted him.




Only a few short weeks before festival day, orders had come from Lord Thayer that Henri was to use the special cream on Arabella every day and throughout the night until the mating ritual with Lord Radegund's stallion. It was an exquisite torture, which Arabella felt to the marrow of her bones, and Henri had the devil's own hand when applying it. His touch between her spread legs had her writhing in a frenzy upon the table. He would bring her just to the precipice of orgasm and no further, allowing her to tremble there, on the edge of it, only to deny her at the last second the full completion of her pleasure.

In heartfelt frustration one evening, as Henri had his back turned to her, Arabella had done the unthinkable and put a hand between her legs, hoping to satisfy the awful sexual hunger that gnawed at her, before he caught her. Too late, Henri had turned slightly, spying her out of the corner of his eye. Immediately, he forced her onto her stomach, holding her wrists together up over her head in the tight grip of his fingers and spanked her soundly with a hard, wooden paddle until she promised, tearfully, to quit being so naughty and behave herself. Afterwards, Henri had given her a sympathetic smile, shrugging his shoulders, saying it was the master's orders and there was naught that he could do about it.

From then on, whenever she was placed within her stall, Henri secured her hands up over her head to ensure against her trying it again.

She had done the forbidden and had been punished for it. Every night thereafter, was misery in a most exquisite form. Not only her hands, but her ankles as well were bound well apart, so that her sex lay bare and open to any who wished to peak over her stall door and view her. Her legs were bent at the knee and drawn widely apart, secured to the wall on each side of the narrow stall. A block of wood, cushioned with a thick pillow, was placed under her hips, levitating her pelvis so that her venus mont could be easily seen, ensuring that she was behaving herself. Henri informed the other stable hands that he was to be notified immediately if she loosed her bonds and was caught working herself.

Night after night, silent tears streamed down her pale cheeks, not because she was uncomfortable or in pain in such an ignominious position. . . . .no!. . . . .Henri saw to it that she did not lack for personal comfort. But she was being slowly starved of the one thing she most craved. On occasion, when Lord Thayer gave his permission, Henri, upon leaving her for the night, would enter a stall somewhere quite near her own. She would hear the rustlings and groanings and the eager happy squeal of the mare he was preparing to mount. It was torture to listen to the muffled sounds emanating from outside her stall. As Henri grunted his satisfaction, and the mare, whoever she was, screamed her cuming, Arabella would feel the shameful, tell-tale moistness release from within her. She would struggle against the leather straps restraining her, her hips rising off the thick pillow, humping at the empty air, her misery complete, until at last, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The night before the festival, Henri bedded her down for the night as usual, making sure that her bonds were nice and tight. It would not do, he smiled down at her, for her to get loose on this night of all nights, not when the stallion expected her to be ready for him on the 'morrow.

Arabella had been nervous all day just thinking about the festival and what it entailed. Henri, aware of her trepidations, talked to her in his low, soothing way, calming her fears as he tenderly applied the cream to her clitoris, dabbed at each nipple. Arabella writhed against her bonds in abject misery, but Henri put a warm hand on her buttock, kneading her flesh with gentle fingers.

"Now, listen to me, my lovely. If you service the stallion well on the 'morrow, you'll be rewarded with the sexual release you so badly want and need. But you must be good, Arabella." He smiled, but his eyes held serious warning, "Mind your manners and remember everything you've been taught."

Henri left her alone then and Arabella tried to still her thoughts on what was to happen at the festival only hours away, but it was impossible, with the cream working its insidious charms on her.

The floor of her "stall" was not made up of straw, but piles of the softest, down pillows upon which she slept each night. It was sheer bliss to be cradled by the huge cushions after Henri's intimate massages and oilings. Even with her hands strapped above her head and her hips propped up in such an embarrassing position, she was far from uncomfortable.

Arabella dozed fitfully throughout the night. The warm, tingling sensation from the cream absorbing into her body, as well as her anxiety about the festival, would not allow her to rest.

In the late hours of the night, when all was quiet in the stable and Arabella was slowly beginning to drift off into hazy sleep, the creak of her stall door opening, then closing, roused her only slightly, but she felt a presence inside with her, and when she finally managed to open her eyes, she saw Lord Thayer standing between her spread legs, towering over her. He gazed down upon her pink, naked sex for what seemed an interminable time. The nub of her clitoris hardened, darkening in color as it pushed its way between the silken folds of her vulva. Her nipples instantly hardened, almost as if Lord Thayer had reached out and touched them. Arabella blushed with shame at her body's instant reaction to the master of Belsoie.

What did his presence here mean? Arabella wondered as he continued to stare silently down at her. Had he decided, that festival or no, he would take her at last, here, tonight, in her stall?

Her thoughts must have been evident in her eyes, in the expression on her face.

"No," his whispered voice rasped against her senses with the roughness of a cat's tongue, "I will not lay with you this eve." He informed her, even as his eyes continued to caress her intimately. He stepped around her, casually lowering himself onto the cushions beside her, where he lay on his side, propped on an elbow so that he could look at her. Arabella turned her head upon the pillow to gaze at his handsome visage above hers. "I came," he said, "to remind you to whom you belong."

Lord Thayer reached out to stroke a hand down her body. "I have watched Henri working with you these past weeks." He remarked, idly playing with the nipple of one breast. Arabella gasped, her body tensing in erotic anticipation, but Lord Thayer continued speaking as if unaware of the sensations he was deliberately provoking within her. "Did you think I was ignoring you, my Arabella? I assure you, this delightful body of yours is hard for a man to ignore." He covered her breast with the palm of his hand, lifting and squeezing it gently. "You've captured the attention and the imagination of every man who works for me. You have captivated your master as well."

His hand left her breast, smoothing down her flat belly, coming to rest just above her pubis. Arabella struggled not to moan or thrust her hips, afraid he would remove his hand if she did so.

"You will be given to Lord Radegund's stallion on the 'morrow." Thayer stated with quiet authority. "Sajan is quite the handsome steed. . . . .and well-endowed to be sure, though not as well-endowed as your master. You would do well to remember that. Sajan will take your virginity and mate with you, my little mare. And the peasants will have their holiday. But never forget, Arabella, not for a single moment, who you belong to."

Large doe eyes unblinking, Arabella's taut breasts lifted in hard, breathless gasps, as his hand slipped lower, tugging at the little silver ring that pierced her clitoris, making the tiny bell to tinkle softly.

"I am pleased with the progress you have made in your training. You are truly a fine mare. Your only thoughts now, Arabella, should be of the pleasures of the flesh and how you can best serve me, your lord and master. Your body is no longer your own. You were meant to serve with your body. Your only concern, the ultimate desires of your master." He paused for a moment, considering, then, "On the 'morrow, you will please me by thinking of me as Sajan mounts you. You will do so because I desire it. You will soon learn that my own desires will be yours as well."

His hand cupped itself between her legs. Arabella's body remained rigid, motionless, lest he should take his hand away through some inadvertent movement on her part.

"When I give you to the Lady Xaviera for her birthday, you will please me by pleasing her ladyship. You will have a unique position in my household. My lady has never before had a mare of her own. You will serve your mistress whole-heartedly and with utmost devotion. If m'lady becomes unhappy or displeased with you, I will be very disappointed in you, Arabella, and you will receive the punishment you deserve. But," he smiled down at her, "I have every confidence that you will try to do your best to make both your master and your mistress happy, won't you?"

Arabella nodded, her gaze never wavering from his handsome, cruel face. His hand slid warmly up her ribcage, capturing the underside of her breast, lifting the nipple to his lips briefly. Then lifting his head, he gazed down at her. "And now, a kiss. For luck on the 'morrow. Raise your head, Arabella, and open your lips to me."

She did as he requested and Lord Thayer lowered his mouth to hers, forcing her lips to open wide, his tongue reaching in to snare hers, taking her mouth in gentle savagery. He stole her very breath into himself and Arabella closed her eyes, giving herself up to him, hoping, yearning. . . . .but, almost reluctantly, she felt him pull away from her. He smiled down into her eyes, smoothing back her hair from her face. Then, tweaking her nipple between thumb and forefinger, he rose to his feet in one lithe movement.

"Remember who you belong to, little mare." His rough whisper sent a shiver through her, and then he quit her stall, pulling the door shut behind him.