The morning of the festival dawned clear and bright, with an air of merry expectation. Henri entered the stables whistling, pleased to see Arabella awake and waiting for him. Despite Lord Thayer's late night visit, and Henri's cunning manipulations, she had managed to sleep only to awaken, trembling with nervous trepidation at the day's coming events.

Everyone, from the stable hands down to the lowliest of mares, were in cheery good humor this morn. The mares especially, erupted in peals of laughter, mischievious giggles, as they led the men a merry chase on the stable floor. Enticed by the excitement of the forthcoming festivities, some of the mares were proving a trifle naughty by dodging in and out among the men, keeping just out of reach as the stable hands ran about, trying to group them together to begin the day's preparations, spanking whichever bare buttock was close at hand, scolding them for their antics. The men were eager to hurry with their chores so that they might get an early start on their holiday.

Henri had explained to Arabella that even the regular mares would have a role to play at the festival. They would be trimmed out to suit Lord Thayer's fancy and made to pull the cart that Arabella herself would ride in through the streets of the village. Since no one, except the upper nobility were allowed to view the actual mating ritual, the other mares would be put on display in and around the market square. Some, Henri informed her, would be auctioned off to the highest bidder for the day, to be returned to Belsoie the following morning, once festival was over. Others would be chosen for erotic games of amusement along with many of the stallions brought in from neighboring estates. Those mares and stallions not joining in the games would be placed in the public tents scattered on the greensward, posing in erotic and provocative tableaus for the delectation of anyone who wished to view them and for the rare individual who could afford to purchase a tent in order to participate also in the sexual and sensual play.

Now, Henri entered Arabella's stall and loosened her bonds, helping her onto her feet. With a teasing swat to her buttocks, he ordered up on to the low, flat table, where she perched on her haunches, small, pointed breasts quivering nervously as Henri fed her bits of fruit dipped in honey.

Observing her anxiety, Henri produced a goat-skin flask and bade her to open her mouth. Seeing her wary look, Henri sighed, reassuring her, "Just a little something to help calm your nerves, my dear. Now stick out your tongue like a good mare."

Obediently she did so, and Henri squeezed three small droplets of a sweet, syrupy liquid on her tongue. Afterwards, he assisted her off the table, and with small, prancing steps she went before him, out to the small private yard at the rear of the thatched roof building, where Cynan and Owyn had prepared her bath in a large wooden tub, half filled with warm water.

Henri ordered her into the tub and down all fours. The nipples of her breasts barely skimmed the surface of the water. At Henri's direction, Cynan poured a bucket of warm water over her back, thoroughly soaking her hair, then stood back as Henri proceeded to bathe her, briskly soaping her back and buttocks and between her legs. Reaching beneath her, he lathered her breasts and belly and each slender arm. He motioned Owyn forward, who approached with his own bucket, which he used to rinse her off, ordering her to sit up on her knees, as he splashed the remaining water from the bucket down the front of her. Ever particular, Henri washed her hair not once, but twice, until it was squeaking clean.

Helping her out of the tub, Henri handed her over to Cynan and Owyn who patted her dry, front and back, with thick, soft towels as she stood complacently on the grass, the morning sun warming her body. The two oafs took their time while Henri stood nearby carefully scrutinizing their work, until he directed her back inside the stable. He ordered her to lie flat upon the table, where he began with her oiling. The elixir Arabella had been given must have started to work, for she was starting to feel quite lethargic and less inhibited in front of Cynan and Owyn, more amenable to Henri's ministrations. Henri rubbed the oil into her flesh, giving her skin a soft, lambent glow in the dim light of the stable's interior. Arabella felt positively languid, and when he had finished, directing her to kneel upon the top of the table once more, her very limbs felt slow and sensuous.

"Now, 'tis time for your trimming out, Arabella." Henri announced. "Lord Thayer has chosen very special ornamentation for you to wear this day." He turned, calling over his shoulder. "Cynan! Owyn! Bring the chest!"

The two men approached bearing between them a small, heavy wooden chest banded in iron, which they placed on the end of the table. Henri threw open the lid and Arabella's eyes were suddenly dazzled by the sparkling gems inside, as he sifted through them, choosing each piece with thought and care.

The first item to be lifted from the depths of the chest was a heavy collar encrusted with diamonds, slim chains of crystals of varying lengths dangling from the base of the collar. Henri clasped it about her throat as Owyn held the heavy length of her hair aside. The crystal chains spilled down over the globes of her breasts. Two of the chains had tiny, silver clamps on the ends which Henri attached to each erect nipple. Next, he chose a sparkling silver chain with a cut diamond as large as a small grape, which he placed about her waist, the diamond fitting snugly into the hollow of her navel. Anklets and bracelets of beaten silver were clamped about her upper arms and slender ankles.

Henri brushed out her hair, arranging it away from her face, so that the thick chestnut brown tresses fell in soft curls down her back. He wove a thin rope of crystal beads through her hair and wrapped a slender silver bandeau about her head, so that a single crystal bead dangled in the middle of her forehead.

"And now, for the finishing touch." Henri announced. He bade her stand on her feet in the center of the table. "Spread your legs apart, Arabella. Hold yourself open for me."

Obediently she did so, her legs braced wide, her small feet flat on the rough wood surface of the table. She opened her vulva with her fingers on either side of the moist, pink opening, to give Henri better access to her. With wide, unblinking eyes, Arabella watched as Henri affixed a crystal jewel just above the silver ring with its tiny silver bell, where it sparkled provocatively.

"Remain standing just as you are and hold still." Henri instructed. From the jar on the worktable behind him, Henri scooped up a bit of the white cream, and turning back to her, slid a finger inside her small opening, painting the little vaginal muscles quickly and expertly. Arabella groaned aloud as she instinctively contracted around the tip of his finger. But he was already withdrawing from her. From the jar, he dabbed a bit of the cream on each hardened nipple.

Henri stood back to survey his work. 'She was lovely', he thought admiringly, 'far lovelier than even he had anticipated or imagined. He was sure that when she entered the mating ring, his lordship would be more than pleased. With a heartfelt sigh, Henri at last pronounced her ready.

Outside in the stable yard, the other mares were already harnessed to the wagon, impatient to be off. As Henri led Arabella in all her finery to the back of the wagon, she saw that each of the mares was bedecked in flowers. A wreathe of flowers crowned their heads and flower blossoms adorned their nipples. Fragile petals feathered outward at the apex of their thighs. Most surprising of all, each female sported a "horse tail" interwoven with flowers, the soft, silky tails fixed firmly just above their rumps and held in place by a silver waist chain cinched about their hips. All of the mares wore ankle-cuffed, high-heeled boots which made them stand somewhat taller than normally. The tiny bells attached to engorged clitorises, Lord Thayer's mark of ownership, rang softly as a booted foot stamped the hard-packed earth here and there. Their breasts were thrust out proudly, their shoulders and the curve of their back straight, attesting to the rigid training they'd experienced at Belsoie. Their arms were laced tightly at their lower back, just above the jutting horse tails. A stableman, one on each side of the double line of restive mares, strolled up and down the line, eyeing them critically, spanking a quivering buttock here, pinching a nipple there, raising a chin high with the handle of a riding crop. One of the men stopped to run his hand down the flank of one excited young mare, then slid his hand back up the smooth flesh of her thigh, curving his palm to squeeze the slim cheek of her rear, before bringing his hand around to dip between her legs, working her with his fingers until she pumped her hips enthusiastically. Nodding with apparent satisfaction, he moved on to the next mare.

The leather reins harnessing the mares to each other were braided with flowers, even the wagon itself, was festooned with flowers on all sides. A high platform of sorts, constructed of wooden planks was fitted atop the cart and piled with huge cushions for Arabella to kneel upon. Cynan and Owyn lifted her lightly into the cart, placing her among the nest of soft cushions. Henri climbed up the side of the wagon, instructing her to sit upon her knees with her buttocks resting on her heels. She was to throw her shoulders back so that her breasts could be viewed easily from all sides as she was driven through the village streets with ceremonial pomp and splendor.

"Today, you will be mated with the stallion, Sajan. 'Tis rare indeed, when a virgin is offered at festival. All of the villagers will turn out to see you and you must display yourself proudly and not disappoint them." Henri warned her. "Sajan, himself, is even now wending his way through the village upon his own cart. He'll be secluded from you until after your arrival to the mating ring. After all these weeks of being deprived of any sexual intercourse, Sajan will be chomping at the bit to mount you, so we can delay no longer. Do his lordship proud today, Arabella," Henri stated with utmost seriousness, "and your future here is assured." Henri jumped down, swiftly climbing into the saddle of his own horse which would follow behind Arabella's cart. Henri clapped his hands smartly and the mares started off at his signal, riding crops licking alternately at their buttocks from the two stable hands who walked alongside them. The flower petals decorating their bodies fluttered softly at their breasts, betwixt their thighs, as they pranced in unison out of the stable yard, and out the gates of Belsoie, turning onto the road leading into the village.

Kneeling atop the cart like a doyenne going to meet her sultan for the first time, Arabella felt a latent sultriness, a languorousness, infuse her veins. The diamonds and crystals adorning her body glittered and sparkled in the sunlight which filtered down through the trees lining both sides of the road. Her bare breasts felt warm and heavy from the heat of the sun, her eyelids drowsy with desire, her venus mont thick and moist with sensation, the effects of the cream and the elixir Henri had given her earlier, no doubt.

The cart was light and easy to pull as Arabella watched the bare buttocks of the mares below her pumping up and down in their jaunty trot, saucy horse tails swishing back and forth. Arabella was rocked from side to side in a gentle swaying motion, lulling her senses and at the same time, giving her a feeling of superiority over the other mares. The crack of the whip woke her from her reverie as one of the men walking beside the line of mares flicked his riding crop at the tender bottom of one young mare, encouraging her to pick up her feet.

Nearing the outskirts of the village, Arabella could hear the distant sound of laughter and merry-making, the music of a lute weaving thinly in and out of the raucous noise, which grew louder moment by moment. As the cart was spotted still some distance away, a collective cry went up from the edge of the crowd, heralding their arrival. The villagers and members of the lesser nobility rushed to line both sides of the cobblestone streets, craning their necks to be the first to glimpse Arabella. The cart, with its coterie of prancing mares, approached the edge of town, and a rousing cheer arose as kerchiefs and caps waved high above the heads of the crowd. A shower of rose petals spiraled down from upper-storey windows, the shutters having been thrown open beneath gabled roof tops, men and women leaning far out to get a better view of the parade below. Buxom, barefoot maidens danced alongside the cart, throwing more rose petals toward Arabella. The fragrant perfume of the downy petals rose up around her, while still more petals continued to drift down, surrounding her like flakes of softest snow. One errant petal swirled down, landing on the distended nipple of her breast and clung there teasingly. But Arabella did not brush it away. Henri had given her strict warning that once situated upon the cart, she was to remain absolutely still and make no distracting movements, no matter what. "Not even to scratch an itch or brush away a fly." He'd stated in utter seriousness.

Minstrels, strolling ahead of the mares, merrily played their lutes and lyres and timbrels, while excited young maidens dodged laughingly in and out of the crowd, keeping just out of reach of eager, groping hands, squealing in mock offense, when a pinch was delivered to a curvaceous rear.

But Lord Thayer 's mares received most of the crowd's admiration, and, liking the attention, the mares raised their feet a little higher off the ground, bounced their breasts a bit more impudently, swishing the flowered horse tails at their rumps a little more elegantly.

And above it all, Arabella viewed the surreal scene below and around her as if in a dream.

Her body bared before them, Arabella must let these men and women see her upon her perch and not disappoint them. Her body, her will, were no longer her own. She belonged to Lord Thayer, who would give her to Sajan, the festival stallion. She was the virginal offering to ensure a successful harvest year for the peasants. They would rejoice, celebrating the taking of her virginity, which she must give willingly, because Lord Thayer decreed that she must.

The procession wended its way through the village, passing the booths and the village taverns, where groups of men raised their tankards in deference to her; past the tents, with their striped awnings scattered about the greensward where the "games" would be held later in the day, then onward to the large gathering of richly dressed noblemen and their ladies, whose eager countenances, turning at the sound of her festive arrival, greatly anticipated their first glimpse of Arabella.

With riding crops sweetly singing against naked rumps, the flower-bedecked mares stepped up their pace, trotting forward with eager step. Arabella felt her body suddenly tense, her stomach quiver with nervousness and trepidation. She let her eyes wander over the crowd in search of Lord Thayer. . . . .and there he was! Easily the tallest and handsomest among the men gathered around the perimeter of the fenced in area, he stood at the forefront of the crowd, the Lady Xaviera beside him, watching his naked coterie of mares advance toward the open gate of the fence. He fixed his dark gaze on the prancing females, scrutinizing each for the tiniest of flaws that might mar his reputation for possessing the finest stables in the land. But his mares had done him proud. He and his lady broke away from the crowd, strolling down the line of mares, admiring and commenting on each one, offering a bit of sugar or other sweetmeat for the mares to nibble from their hand, a reward for a job well done.

Arabella so longed for an encouraging look from her master, but when he had done with his cursory inspection of the mares, he ordered Henri and his assistants to remove Arabella from the cart and to drive the other mares out to the greensward. She watched helplessly as he turned away without so much as a glance in her direction, the Lady Xaviera slipping her arm through his, as together they rejoined their acquaintances at the fence.

Arabella heard the sighs of pleasure exchanged by the men, the lilting laughter of the women, the looks of admiration that were bestowed upon her. But she cared not for any of these. She wanted. . . . .needed. . . . .only the attentions of the one. She felt the despondency of his neglect deeply. Oh, how she wished that it were Lord Thayer who would take her this day! And not this stranger, this Sajan, whom she'd never met. Her body craved, nay, ached for his lordship's touch upon her body, to feel his manhood possessing her. Was she to always long for him this way? Suffering the lack of his touch from a distance while being given to another? How could she bear it?

Carefully, lifting her down from atop the cart, Arabella was borne aloft by Cynan and Owyn, who for once, behaved themselves and did not let their hands stray, knowing his lordship was nearby and watching. They set her on her feet as the mares were turned about and quickly escorted away to the greensward where the games and other erotic pleasures of the flesh were then getting underway.

The circumference of the fenced in area was small and set well away from the other activities of the festival. Only the higher nobility would be allowed to view the mating between Sajan and Arabella. It was a privilege they reserved for themselves alone. Already, the lords and ladies were vying for a favored spot around the fence from which they could watch the proceedings first-hand. As Arabella let her gaze roam the crowd of strange faces, all eyes upon her, she felt a wave of panic rise within her. She suddenly realized that, except for Henri, she was alone, naked, but for the jewels adorning her. This rich gathering of bemused, somewhat jaded onlookers, took it as a matter of course that she should be here for their entertainment and amusement. Their eyes probed her body, divining all her secrets, which she was forbidden to conceal from them.

For one horrible moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to bolt and run. But there was nowhere to which she could escape that someone would not stop her, laughing at her fears and vulnerability, before returning her to the cynical, pretentious inspection of this group of sophisticated, self-indulgent strangers.

Then, Henri was there, whispering soft words of reassurance in her ear as he stood behind her. He put his hands upon her to still the uncontrollable trembling of her body, pressing his chest close against her back; letting his hands slide warmly down her arms, then gently kneading her slim waist; sliding back up over her flat belly to cup her breasts, lifting and massaging them, plucking at her hard, little nipples until he felt the tension flow out of her body, her nervous tension slowly melting into excited arousal from the gentle persuasion of his touch.

Arabella did not see the wink and the smile he delivered over her head to the crowd who watched in candid silence.

"All these people are here to see you, Arabella." He murmured, all the while continuing to stroke her body, his touch and the sound of his voice, lulling her, stilling her fears. "You are quite lovely, you know. If only you could see yourself as they see you, with the gems sparkling at your throat and breasts. . . . .and that tiny little jewel winking at everyone from between your legs. Why, you've captured the attention of everyone here! There's nothing for you be frightened of, my darling, though 'tis natural you should feel so, as this will be your first mating."

At last he let go of her, stepping around to the front of her to critically assess her appearance. "Your nipples are hard. Good. That shows your body is primed and ready for a good mounting." Henri cupped a hand between her legs, the tip of one finger casually probing her nether lips, making her shiver. "And your moist. Another good sign." He removed his hand, placed his fists on his hips. "Now, before his lordship becomes impatient. . . a few instructions . . . then we will begin. But first, assume the position, Arabella, and quickly! We can't have the upper crust thinking you're disobedient, now can we?"

Blushing, Arabella spread her legs, her toes digging into the soft grass. The little silver bell dangled between her nether lips. With a finger, Henri adjusted the curl of pubic hair more artfully, straightened the little bow. The small crystal jewel which Henri had pasted just above the pink cleft of her opening, glittered. The tiny silver clamps at her breasts bit into her nipples, keeping them hard and erect. The jeweled collar and the waist chain with its grape-size diamond fitted into her navel, as well as the bracelets and anklets, made Arabella feel as if her body were luxuriantly weighted down.

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, now tightly packed around the fence.

Arabella peeked shyly from beneath lowered lashes at her surroundings. In the center of the ring, a wide-padded beam stood ominously, and below it, heavy iron rings, one at each end, above and behind the beam, were sunk well into the ground. Arabella as quickly looked away again, not wanting to let her mind dwell on what use the contraption was destined for.

But where was the stallion? She wondered now. . . this Sajan, she had heard talked about for all these many weeks? Where were they keeping him? Were they not allowed to see each other before the ritual commenced?

"Pay attention, Arabella!" Henri said sharply, drawing her from her reverie. "First of all, we'll be starting off with a demonstration of your skill by putting you through your paces. I want to show them how well you're trained to the whip. They especially enjoy the whip, so you can count on feeling it as you maneuver around the ring. See that beam over there?" He pointed with the handle of his riding crop, directing her unwilling attention to it once more. "When we're finished, you'll be strapped over the beam, your wrists and ankles tied firmly to the iron rings below it. You'll notice how widely spaced the rings are? All your charms will be displayed quite nicely for the lords and ladies to view. You'll be given water to drink and a chance to relieve yourself." He smiled as she turned back to face him, dawning comprehension evident in the large pupils of her eyes. "Don't be so bashful." Henri remonstrated good-naturedly, chucking her under the chin. "Not even that function of your body is to be private this day. When a mare releases her water, that is her signal she is ready to be mounted. Sajan will not be allowed to have you until you have done so."

'Oh! I cannot!' Arabella cried out in silent agony. 'I cannot be made to do such a thing! Not in front of these others! Not in front of Lord Thayer himself!' It was too humiliating to ponder.

Desperately, her eyes searched among the crowd of onlookers for Lord Thayer. When she caught sight of him, Arabella swallowed hard, willing him with all her might to look in her direction, to save her from this particular indignity. She wanted to run to him, to fling herself at his feet, beg for his benevolence in this one thing! Surely, even he could not. . . . .would not. . . . allow it!

But Lord Thayer's attention was elsewhere, his head cocked to the side, smiling and nodding at something one of his acquaintances was whispering to him. Then he leaned down to share the private exchange with the Lady Xaviera. He did not deign to glance Arabella's way.

And then she knew. This was what he wanted of her. . . . . . her complete and utter submission. Given time, his lordship knew that Arabella's inward rebelliousness of his demands would simply melt as she molded to his will. While she remained under his protection, as one of his coterie of mares, Arabella's only purpose was to please him and to serve his every desire. If his desire was for her to suffer the ultimate degradation in such a public fashion, then she would do so

and be glad of it, because it pleased him to have her submit to his will.

A loud crack sounded behind her, startling her from her thoughts. Arabella jumped nervously. Light, amused laughter filtered through the crowd. Henri, standing just to the side and behind her was testing the riding crop in his hand.

"Alright, Arabella, let's show these nobles how well-behaved you are." Henri stated with quiet authority. "No mistakes now, m'dear. They want to see perfection. And perfection you shall give them. You won't want to face his lordship's anger if you do not."

Small breasts quivering with fear, Arabella waited what seemed an eternity, for the expected sting of the lash on her buttocks. When it came, she leaped gracefully into motion, her high-stepping march around the inside of the fence awarding her applause and cheers of approval. Henri allowed her no breaks throughout her routine. With whip in hand, he drove her before him. The faces of the crowd blurred as she concentrated on walking, trotting, and prancing. The heaviness of the jewels adorning her made her feel somewhat awkward and ungainly at first, although she hoped she did not appear so in the ring. She wanted with all her heart to please Lord Thayer, to make him proud. Arabella reveled in the sting of the lash, looked forward to the intimate bite of its kiss on her taut buttocks, giving the little leaps and bounds she made over the grass a certain graceful agility which Henri seemingly approved of, for he used the whip without mercy as they progressed around the paddock, to the delight and amusement of the crowd.

When the whip snaked between her legs, stinging the tender nether lips, a tiny, startled cry escaped from her, the first sound she'd uttered since being brought into the ring. A delicious shudder, that did not go unnoticed by her audience, coursed through her, the unexpected, yet oddly welcoming flicker of pain awakening sensations she had not heretofore felt.

A sigh of pure, unadulterated pleasure arose among those on the other side of the fence. How splendid! They commented to one another. What a lovely mare Lord Thayer had acquired for himself! He had disciplined her well. Her taut, virginal body absorbed her pain, never once breaking stride. They understood, as did Arabella, that her pain was her reward. And this little mare, they surmised, with her firm, plump buttocks, accepted her pain like the kisses of a lover. Enchanting!

Slowing her pace at Henri's direction, Arabella cantered about the ring as he delivered little licks of the lash against her backside. Her small, full breasts lifted slightly in breathless exhilaration, her slender bottom out-thrust behind her as if seeking the touch of the whip. Henri obliged her, then caught her by surprise once more, to the delight of the crowd, by sneaking the evil tip of the lash between her legs, the pain so exquisite her thigh muscles quivered, nearly squatting upon the pain that set her nerve-endings afire.

Again, the crowd murmured their approval. The whip, they agreed, was the true test of a well-trained mare. If she took to the whip and was disciplined enough to control the pain that licked deliciously through her body, allowing it to enhance her sexual arousal and thus her appeal, then she was a prize indeed!

At last, Henri halted her. A smattering of applause broke out as he motioned to Cynan and Owyn, who had remained behind to assist him. Between them, taking hold of Arabella by her wrists and ankles, they carried her to the beam, placing her upon it, with her stomach resting on the wide padded beam as they quickly strapped her limbs to the iron rings set in the ground. Her arms and legs were stretched to their endurance, bound so securely that she was able to lift her torso only slightly off the beam. Her forehead nearly touched the ground, her breasts swinging freely beneath her as the clamps bit down torturously on the tender nubs of her nipples. With her lower abdomen resting upon the broad beam, and her rump, striped with bright, pink welts, hitched high in the air, her pubis and the cheeks of her buttocks were split open, revealed to one and all.

She was not able to see their faces now, the crowd of noblemen and their women. Only their booted feet and the multi-colored hems of their gowns. Trembling, Arabella was dreading what Henri told her would come next. A splash of ice-cold water was thrown against her sore rear, at the same time that Henri squatted in front of her, brushing back her hair, offering her a bowl of cool water to drink. Desperately, her eyes pleaded with his, but he only smiled, laying the palm of his hand on the back of her head, pushing her face toward the bowl, until her lips touched the water. Tipping the bowl up, Henri forced her to open her mouth to swallow, making her drink all of it, in large gulps, not allowing her to catch her breath between swallows, but tipping the bowl higher, so that the water ran out the corners of her mouth, spilling down her chin. When it was empty, he handed the bowl to Cynan, ordering him to bring another. Arabella moaned in despair, but Henri was taking no chances. He would make certain her bladder was full and aching when the time came, so that there would be no doubt of her readiness to be mounted.

Even as she lapped at the second bowl of water, Owyn poured another bucket of cold water on her stinging rump, making her shiver. Arabella felt the water trickle between the cheeks of her buttocks and down her thighs. A soft towel was applied to dry her skin. The second bowl of water was taken away, and pouring oil into the palm of his hands, Henri squatted on his haunches before her, and began to slowly massage her breasts, teasing the pinkened nipples, adjusting the clamps more firmly as he did so, making her wince. He stood, disappearing behind her to oil her sore buttocks, before deliberately stroking between her legs. His fingers played with her almost too gently, causing her body to grow taut, trembling with the strong sensation of her arousal. Once Henri was satisfied that she was properly aroused, he withdrew from her.

Arabella could hear the quiet murmurings of the onlookers, the rustle of a silk skirt here or there. She had the sense that she was alone in the center of the ring now. She longed for Henri's comforting presence, but he did not return to her.

Moments later, there was a sudden cessation of noise among the crowd surrounding her. Arabella tensed, apprehension filling her. Something was about to happen. And then, a wild cheer rose in a swelling crescendo from the men and women all around her, frightening her even more.

Without being told, Arabella knew that the stallion had arrived.
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