Pulling on the reins, the hunters halted their mounts in the famed stable yards of Castle Belsoie. Arabella heard the cheers and the greetings as they arrived. As the two soldiers who grasped the carrying pole between them dismounted, Henri instructed them to take her into a low stone building situated nearby, one of the "stables" of which she'd heard rumored among the villagers.

Suspended naked as she was upon the pole, there was little Arabella could see of her immediate surroundings. She had an impression of stone buildings with thatched roofs, green grass encircled by white fences in the distance, hard-packed earth beneath her, a clear blue sky above, and the sense of busy activity taking place all around her.

The two men carried her between them, and again, Arabella felt the awful degradation, the vulnerability of her plight. With her wrists and ankles bound together, her slender body swaying freely beneath the wooden pole on which she was strung, she felt as frightened as a plump, pink piglet, trussed and ready for the scalding pot.

With a loud thump, a wooden door was shouldered open. They carried Arabella into the dim, cool interior of the stable, stamping their way inside, past other stable hands and their female charges who looked up as she was carried by, and then away, as if her arrival were of no import.

They brought her to a secluded corner where they fit the ends of the pole into the notched ends of two upright wooden supports. And then she was left alone, her body trembling with fright from her ordeal, and now this new situation, her mind mulling over her fate at the hands of the infamous Lord Thayer.

What would they do to her here in this place? What was to become of her? They had spoken of mating her with Lord Radegund's stallion. Lord Radegund had a reputation as well for stabling handsome young men on his estate. Festival time was approaching. 'Of course, that is what this was all about!' she thought now. She had never attended festival held in the village of Vallat where all manner of decadence and delight was reported to abound. Pettigrew had never allowed her to attend, but she had heard the giggling and the whispers of the other girls in the tiny hamlet of Esty about what went on at festival time. And the mating ritual, the high point of every festival year, in which one man, the "stallion" and one woman, the "mare" were chosen to complete the rite that would ensure fertile crops for the coming year.

She knew little about Lord Thayer. Only what she had gleaned from gossip and hearsay at the inn. He was an entity unto himself. He answered to no one and his men were fiercely loyal to him. Arabella chastised herself once again for leaving the safe haven of the little hamlet, though she knew deep down that it would not have mattered in the end whether she had been caught out in the forest alone or dragged kicking and screaming from the inn, with all of the villagers looking on in amusement. It had happened before, to other girls, in other villages and hamlets. To Lord Thayer, it was all the same. He had been merely treating his men to a bit of sport this morn in his pursuit of Arabella.

Tears streaked from the corners of her eyes, sliding beneath the strip of cloth still bound across her mouth. She tested the strength of her bonds repeatedly, but her energy quickly ebbed, and at last, exhausted, she gave up, hanging from her precarious perch complacently.

After a while, Arabella began to pay attention to the sounds of movement all around her. If she turned her head to the side, she could see that the interior was more spacious than the outside of the low, thatched-roof building indicated. Stable hands were busy at undetermined tasks, boots walking to and fro, in and out of her line of vision on the far side of the stable. Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of slim, bare feet and slender feminine ankles prancing by. Men talked to each other across the wide expanse that separated them, with the infrequent order being shouted out good-naturedly. Interweaved with the loud voices of the men and the bustling activity, were softer, muted, female sounds. A trill of feminine laughter here. . . . .a soft sigh of exhausted contentment there. . . . .a rustling in the straw behind the walls of the many horse stalls which lined both sides of the interior. And, once in a while, the sharp crack of a leather strap, followed by a squeal of part-pleasure, part-pain, which sent a shiver dread down her spine. From somewhere outside in the yard, the musical jingle of miniature bells drifted to her from the partially open stable door.

She heard the creak of a wooden beam overhead. . . . .smelled the pungent odor of fresh straw strewn over the hard-packed dirt floor and the still sweeter aroma of perfumed oil which came to her in warm, rich waves on the heavy, summer air inside the stable.

Trussed beneath the carrying pole in the midst of all this, Arabella was ignored. No one paid her the slightest attention. A curious glance or two may have been directed her way, but no one approached her or appeared to think it unusual that she was there at all. Everyone seemed to take her presence here as a matter of course.

Then, at last, just as she was beginning to despair that she had been forgotten, the young man, Henri, came and squatted down on his haunches beside her head.

"Well, my pretty," he said pleasantly, his eyes twinkling at her, "have you had a chance to calm down then? We have a lot of work to do, you and I, to make you presentable to his lordship.

He'll be coming in soon to see you and we must have you ready. Now, promise me you'll cooperate and I'll remove the gag. Do not even think of setting up a howl the second it is out of your mouth. I must warn you, his lordship is right outside this very door, viewing a new group of mares just brought in. If he hears you. . . . .and make no mistake, he will . . . .by the time he's done with you, you will wish he hadn't. Do you understand?"

Hesitantly, Arabella nodded that she did.

"Good girl!" Henri exclaimed, giving her a pat on the head to signal his approval. He stood up calling to two stable hands who stood waiting nearby. "Cynan! Owyn! When I remove the gag, untie her hands and feet from the pole and secure her to the beam."

With infinite care, Henri untied the gag from the back of her head, withdrawing the wad of cotton material from her mouth, unraveling it slowly. Her eyes were huge and bright with unshed tears as Henri looked down at her, sympathy etched on his handsome, youthful face.

"Ah, now. . . . .little mare, there's nothing to be frightened or upset about! Be happy and grateful that it was Lord Thayer who caught you alone in the woods this morn, instead of some dirty, uncouth peasant, or ill-tempered lord, who would not have been so kind."

Cynan and Owyn swiftly loosened her bonds, lifting her with great care so that her skin did not touch the dirt floor, and gently placed her on her back over a wide, padded beam so that her head hung nearly to the floor and she was looking at her immediate surroundings upside down. While one of the men stretched her arms back on either side of her head, securing her wrists with a soft strip of leather and binding the leather to an iron ring set in the hard-packed floor, her legs were drawn so widely apart by Henri and the other stablehand, each grasping one slim ankle, that her limbs trembled with the tension of it. Thick leather bindings were strapped to her ankles and secured to two widely spaced iron rings sunk into the floor. Her body quivered with nervousness and fright. She was fully exposed to anyone who wanted a good look at her. . . . .and she was helpless to prevent it. Henri chuckled as Arabella tried unsuccesfully to squeeze her thighs together in a useless attempt to shield her sex, but she was nearly immobile within her bonds.

" 'Twill do you no good, Arabella." Henri stood at her head, smiling down at her, his hands resting on his hips. "You are Lord Thayer's property now, and as such,your body no longer belongs to you, but to his lordship. . . . .and those of us who will undertake your care. You will quickly lose whatever inhibitions that may seem instinctive to you at present, I assure you. Any shyness or embarrassment you may feel at first, you will shed like a second skin once your training is complete. For now, all you need do is relax and try not to tire yourself out with any futile attempts at modesty or prudishness. We will have our way with you at any rate, whether you fight it, or whether you do not. Believe me, it is much better if you do not." Henri stepped away from her, and though she could not see him from her upside-down position, Arabella could feel him standing just beyond her spread legs, hearing him give further instructions to his two assistants, then abruptly dismissing them. Henri turned his attention to her once more and Arabella blushed to feel his eyes roaming over her, lingering on the soft, delicate folds of her nether lips, before he came to squat down beside her head once more.

"The first thing to be done is to inspect you for any flaws, tho' from the look of you, I'd say they were few. Then, we will determine what your attributes are." He informed her cheerfully. "No resistance now, or show of rebellion. Mark my words well, lass." Henri warned her, "If you put up a fight, Lord Thayer will stripe your rump, and 'tis not so pleasant an experience until your well-trained and ready for it."

Taking heart at his unexpectedly kind expression Arabella started to speak, but Henri placed a finger against her lips, and with his gamine grin, shook his head at her. "Uh-uh! Mares do not speak. They listen and do as they are told. You may talk when given permission. Now, as I was about to say," he relaxed back on his heels, linking his hands together over his knees, "you will be well treated for the duration of your service here at Belsoie. Lord Thayer takes great pride in all his mares. He pampers them outlandishly. However, your training and discipline will be hard.

His lordship enjoys taming the wilder ones himself. Gives him a challenge it does. Sometimes, he can get carried away with the whip, but on the whole he's a kind master. You will learn to like it here, even if you do not think so at the moment."

Lord Thayer's voice sounded from the doorway, startling Arabella. "Is she ready, Henri? I am anxious to see what sort of prize we've bagged this morn!"

Henri rose to greet his lordship. "Aye, m'lord! She's ready!"

With long, leisurely strides, Lord Thayer approached, pausing between her spraddled legs to gaze down at her delicate sex with obvious approval. "She's as lovely as any flower picked from the forest floor." he murmured almost to himself. He turned to Henri. "Have you examined her yet?"

"No, m'lord. I thought, mayhap, you would want to watch the examination yourself, so you would know right away what to tell Lord Radegund."

"Radegund! That scoundrel!" His lordship replied a trifle irritably. "He's lucky to be dealing with me at all! And I'm only doing it because festival time draws near. He'll want to keep this one for himself after he sees her, I'm sure! But if she proves to be a virgin, I won't sell her. Not at any price! Radegund should be ashamed of himself, the way he treats his own stock of stallions. . . . .what little he has! No," he turned to eye Arabella once more, "this little mare, I think, is destined for the Lady Xaviera. She's not yet had a mare of her own. I think my lady will be pleased."

"Yes, your lordship!" Henri agreed.

"Well, let's get on with it." Lord Thayer nodded at Henri to proceed, and watched, arms folded over his chest as the stablehand knelt between Arabella's thighs.

"I thought we might begin by testing her for her virginity, m'lord." Henri informed him.

And again, his lordship nodded his dark head in assent.

Arabella was unprepared for that first male invasion of her body. She stiffened in shock as Henri inserted a thick forefinger into her vagina, tried to close her legs against his intrusion of this most private part of herself. But, of course, she could not, and Henri's finger moved slowly, inexorably up into her.

"She's nice and tight, m'lord." Henri informed him without looking up from his task. "And I can tell she doesn't like the feeling of something foreign inside her. That's always a good sign that a mare has never been mounted before."

"Can you feel the hymen yet?" Lord Thayer asked, peering over Henri's shoulder and noting the delicate shudders making her thighs tremble from Henri's intimate examination.

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean 'tis not there." Henri replied.

All the while he had been talking, Henri continued to inch his way carefully into her, probing deeper, feeling his way slowly, so as not to harm the precious membrane should he encounter it. . . . .and Henri had no doubt that he would. Her juices began to flow, unbidden, the unexpected arousal he was creating within her, aiding him in his questing search.

Arabella struggled not to cry out or to scream or to give Lord Thayer any cause to be angry with her as she remembered Henri's earlier warning, but low agonized groans of humiliation escaped from her nonetheless, her body stiffening with tension. Lord Thayer and Henri ignored her discomfort, talking over her as if she could neither hear them, nor feel what was being done to her.

At last, Henri exclaimed, "Ah! There 'tis, m'lord! It's deep inside of her, but 'tis strong! She'll bleed quite a bit when 'tis breeched. Lord Radegund's stallion will have fine time toppin' her!"

"He will pay handsomely for the privilege as well." Lord Thayer remarked, clapping Henri on the shoulder as the stablehand withdrew his finger from her, getting to his feet.

"Now for the anal opening. I want her checked thoroughly." Lord Thayer insisted. "I'll not have that scoundrel, Radegund, saying he bought damaged goods from me. Just because she's a virgin in one area, doesn't mean someone didn't skewer her in another."

"Yes, m'lord." Henri replied. He washed his hands swiftly in a bowl of water set on the worktable behind him. Then, from a jar, he proceeded to apply a thick cream on two fingers. Squatting inside her spread legs once more, he reached up between her buttocks and slowly inserted a finger into the tightly puckered opening.

Horrified at this forbidden intrusion, a small cry escaped from her. Using what little strength she had, Arabella gathered all the little muscles in that tiny orifice in an effort to push him out of her, her body taut with the strain of it, but the finger would not be expelled as it continued its exploration.

"She's trying to push it out, m'lord." Henri informed his lordship. "I don't think she's been used here."

"Use two fingers, Henri." suggested Lord Thayer. "Sometimes it can be hard to tell with only one."

"Yes, m'lord."

Arabella groaned as she felt the second finger joined with the first inside her. As his fingers slid into her, the unaccustomed pressure of entry in the delicate area was so intense that Arabella's hips arched upward off the beam as far as her restrictive bonds would allow, emitting a strangled cry as Henri v'd his fingers within her to widen the tight passage.

"She's never been taken anally, m'lord." Henri determined, letting his fingers slip out of her and standing up once again. "She's much too tight. And the anal muscles are strong, unaccustomed to holding a cock."

"Our friend, Radegund, will be unpleasantly surprised to learn that my price for her as just doubled." Lord Thayer quipped, quite pleased with the results of Arabella's initial examination. " 'Tis rare that we can claim a virgin in our midst. She'll fetch a rare price."

"She's well worth it, if I do say so myself, your lordship." Henri was also pleased.

"And the clitoris has a healthy pink color and is nicely distended between her nether lips." Lord Thayer reached out a finger and teased at it lightly. Arabella gasped and squirmed at his touch. "She excites easily," Lord Thayer remarked cryptically, "which is a sign of a good mare, but she must learn to temper it as well." He paused, staring thoughtfully between her spread thighs. "Henri, bring me a leather strop." he ordered.

"Your lordship," Henri frowned slightly as he washed his hands in the bowl of water provided on his worktable then dried them on a thick towel, "do you think it wise? Before her training begins? She's yet a virgin. She's bound to excite quite easily until we've disciplined her to control her natural urges."

"Nonsense! She appears a bright enough wench, don't you my sweet?" Lord Thayer casually stroked the inside of her thigh with his fingertips. "I'm sure she will learn quickly. But I'm anxious to test her reaction to the whip. Now bring me the strop, Henri."

"Yes, your lordship. Right away." And a slightly more subdued Henri went to the wall behind his worktable, plucking a short, wide leather strop from a hook which hung among a dozen others of various sizes, length, and thickness.Handing it to Lord Thayer, his lordship tested the strength of the leather by snapping it taut between his hands, then slapping it against his palm, frightening Arabella with the sound.

"Arabella," Lord Thayer began pleasantly, as he walked around her taut, spread-eagled body, "I am personally going to test this delicate, virgin body of yours in determining your natural resilience to pain. Within the gates of Belsoie, my mares are taught to love the discipline of the lash. During their training they look forward to it. You will soon learn that the pain of the lash is given not only for punishment, but for reward as well."

From her line of vision, upside down as she was across the flat of the beam, Arabella was only able to see the tops of his riding boots and the broad leather strap which swung casually from his fist.

"You will only receive as much pain as I think you can stand. This is merely your first lesson, my little mare, in learning to mix pleasure with pain. I assure you, during your service here at Belsoie, you will come to enjoy these little lessons in discipline as much as I enjoy giving them." His smile was tender as he looked down at her before turning to Henri. "Arouse her for me, just to the point of orgasm, not beyond."

With no choice, but to obey his lorship, Henri stepped between her spread legs. Even as his fingers massaged the engorged clitoris, Henri felt somewhat sorry that the little mare's introduction to such discipline must begin so soon after her arrival with no warning or preparation. But that was his lordship for you. One never knew what to expect from him. Arabella moaned as the male fingers worked her, thrusting her hips to avoid his touch, then as Henri kept up his torment, thrusting to keep in contact with his fingers, quite without realizing that she was doing so. As she hovered on the brink of orgasm, Lord Thayer ordered Henri to stand aside.

The stablehand moved to one side, allowing his lordship plenty of room. Thayer swung the strap almost casually between her legs, hard enough to be felt, but not hard enough to yet sting. Arabella gasped, in mingled surprise and fear, but that was all for the moment. Thayer smiled, let her think about it for a second or two, let her body absorb the light, teasing blow, then brough the strap down a little harder this time, the leather hitting its mark on the tender point of her clitoris. Her breath expelled on a harsh sob. There was pain. . . . .but there was also something else. The tiny darts of pain melted into the heated arousal deliberately created within her allowing the flame of sexual sensation to burn just a little hotter.

"Now, Henri, as this is the first mare you've been allowed to groom and train on your own. . . . .and this one destined for the festival, you need to learn a little something from this as well." Lord Thayer said. "Ordinarily, by the third stroke, the mare's resilience to pain will begin to break. However, once she has reached that point, with continued stimulation, she will begin to crave not only the orgasm just beyond her reach, but the feel of the strop between her legs. However, you must remember, a mare is never to receive more pain than what she can endure. We never break the skin, nor the spirit, but rather, enhance a mare's sexual urges and her sexual appeal. The strop is used for discipline and punishment when it is warranted, but it is also meant as a reward she will seek to earn as her training progresses." He inclined his head toward the younger man. "Massage her once more and you will see how it is done. It is most extraordinary to watch."

Arabella very nearly screamed when Henri touched the sore nub quivering between her nether lips. But gradually, his tentative touch becalmed her. . . . .aroused her. She was oblivious when Lord Thayer instructed Henri to step aside once more. Warm, delicious sensations radiated out from between her legs to engulf her body, throbbing at the tips of her nipples, coursing through her veins, making her toes curl. This was different from the crude pawing and groping of the men at the inn or being trapped in a corner by Pettigrew and his gimlet eyes, feeling his cock, that unknown entity, pressing insistently against her, wanting something of her that she could not explain.

The leather strop struck her again and the pain caused to tears to spurt from her eyes. Her thigh muscles trembled and her body grew taut with strain, the tips of her toes scraping the dirt floor, her hips thrusting toward the strop as if she were seeking the sting of it.

"You see, Henri," Lord Thayer said, "how she seeks the lash now, instead of shying away from it? She is fast associating her pain with the sexual gratifaction she receives intermittently from your hand."

Again, he raised the strop, and rained several casual, but harsh blows in succession between her thighs. Afterwards, Lord Thayer himself stimulated her clitoris until Arabella fairly writhed upon the beam, tiny strangled cries escaping from her as the resultant pain was overtaken by his gentle arousal. And then, the leather bit at her nether lips once more, like the stinging bite of a striking serpent.

At last, he stopped, clutching the strop in one hand as he stroked her sore Venus mound with the fingers of the other, almost as if her were petting a favored but naughty kitten. Her body quivered beneath his hand.

"And now, Henri," Lord Thayer continued his casual stroking of her, "Arabella knows to expect pain as part of her experience here at Belsoie. When we have her well-broken in, she will not only accept it, but will be eager for it. You must not be lax with her, Henri. Regular discipline is what constitutes a good mare. Anything less reflects negatively on her trainer and caretaker."

"Yes, your lordship." Henri bowed his head in deference.

"She will be given her pleasure, of course. But not too soon, nor too often. It must be measured out in small portions. I'll not have a spoiled, overindulged mare running about the grounds of Belsoie." Patting her gently between the legs, Lord Thayer stepped away from Arabella. "We must have her trained and ready for the mating ritual with Radegund's stallion two months hence. I am depending upon you, Henri, to see that it is done properly."

"Yes, your lordship!" Henri replied, eagerly accepting his new responsibilities. "I'll have her ready! You'll not be disappointed! And neither will anyone else at the festival!"

"Good! That is what I hoped to hear!" He turned to inspect Arabella with a critical eye, then pointed with the strap. "I want all of the pubic hair removed during her grooming." he stated. "It hides a mare's most beautiful attribute in my estimation."

"Of course, your lordship! It will be done as you ask!"

"She is quite beautiful, Henri. I think we've found a real treasure this morn. But we have our work cut out for us. We have only two months to get her ready for the mating ritual on festival day." He handed the strop to Henri. "And we will begin with her grooming. I have other business to attend to at the moment, but send me word once she's groomed. Oil and clip her, then we will put her through her paces this afternoon."

"Yes, m'lord!" Henri bobbed his head again.

Then, without further ado, Lord Thayer turned on his heel and quit the stable. Henri stepped around to smile down at her, his hands fisted on his hips. "Hear that? Lord Thayer is pleased with you, lass! And you are to be mated with Lord Radegund's stallion, Sajan, at the annual festival, which is no small honor!"

Glancing up he spotted Cynan and Owyn working close by. "You two! Over here! 'Tis time for her grooming! Get a move on, lads! His lordship is anxious to see her out in the paddocks later in the day!" Henri moved to his worktable where he hung the strop back on its hook among the dozen others suspended from their hooks.

As Cynan and Owyn brought buckets of water, soap and towels, Henri busied himself gathering the items he would need for her 'grooming', arranging them neatly on his table. Behind him, Arabella trembled, wondering what new degradation was in store for her.

Owyn splashed warm water between her legs, then more water was poured over her belly and breasts. As Owyn went to refill his bucket, Cynan settled on a low stool behind her head and proceeded to wash her hair. While Henri remained busy at his worktable, Owyn returned, and taking a soft cloth, lathered it with soap and began to wash her body with his work-roughened hands. She disliked the feel of his hands on her, stiffening in resistance when she felt him between her thighs, his fingers probing insidiously. Arabella became even more alarmed when he reached under her spread buttocks, washing her there as well. His finger wormed its way into her, where Henri had been before, and she struggled to swallow the protest rising in her throat. She tried to push him out, but Owyn smacked the cheek of her buttock smartly. "Here now, open up! Yer nether hole needs cleaning same as the rest o' ye!"

Henri glanced over his shoulder at them, but determining nothing amiss, returned once more to his task, leaving Arabella in the hands of his two uncouth assistants.

Because she had angered him, Owyn took his time with her, knowing how excruciating it was for her to submit to his rough ministrations. His finger moved deeper inside her, twisting a little, making her groan aloud in humiliation, but she dared not try to expel him again, for fear he would continue longer with his torment.

At last, he withdrew from her, and unceremoniously splashed a bucketful of warm water against her. Henri turned toward her just as Cynan finished giving a final rinse to her hair and began to rub the heavy, wet strands between the folds of a thick towel.

When the two stable hands had finished with her, Henri directed Owyn to bring a low stool which he placed between her spraddled legs. Henri perched himself upon it, and with a small pair of silver scissors, began to snip at the soft, curling triangle of hair, tiny beads of moisture still clinging to the ends. He fished a scented bar of soap from a bowl of water Owyn held for him, lathering the remaining hair that grew thick at her vulva and between the cheeks of her buttocks. Taking up a delicately serrated knife, he proceeded to scrape the rest of the pubic hair from her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed, the last of her defenses removed with gentle strokes of the silver blade.

"No need to fear I'll nick you." Henri assured her, "I'm the best there is at this sort of thing."

He shaved her completely, leaving only a single, soft curl of to nestle just above her clitoris. Smiling, satisfied with his work, he patted her naked pubis before directing his two assistants, " 'Tis time for her oiling and clipping. Let's move her onto the table."

Silently, the two untied her ankles and wrists, removing her from the beam and placing her upon her back on a long, low table, stretching her out with her arms up over her head. Henri dismissed Cynan and Owyn, then went to work on her. Pouring oil from one of the many colored jars lining his worktable into the palm of his hand, he rubbed his hands briskly together to warm them, then applied the oil to her skin in a slow, gentle massage. Arabella lay complacently as his large hands skimmed over her body, kneading muscles that were tense and stiff from the arduous ride out of the forest and her subsequent exercises upon the beam. Henri paid particular attention to her breasts, massaging the small, pale globes, lifting them in his palms, squeezing them, but when he received only a lackluster response, he stood back, eyeing her critically. Then, reaching out with both hands, he deftly pinched her nipples, rolling the hardened pebbles between his fingers until Arabella gasped in stunned surprise, her hips arcing off the table as a warm, moist pool of sensation settled within her sex.

Henri grinned, "That-a girl! You had me worried there for a moment! I like all the young mares in my care to be kept just a little frisky! Shows their spirit, I always say!"

He poured more of the oil into his hand and continued the slow, languorous massage, working the oil deep into her skin, herflesh fairly gleaming in the small shafts of sunlight that slanted down through the thatched roof overhead. Henri bade her to roll over onto her stomach and his hands rubbed the oil into her back, the flesh of her buttocks, her thighs and calves, down to the very soles of her feet. Arabella felt as if her body were molding itself to Henri's hands. A delicious exhaustion stole through her and she became aware for the first time of all the intimate places on her body that seemed suddenly to cry out for attention.

Henri had to help her onto her back once more. He spread her legs so that her feet hung over either side of the table, dangling above the floor. He stretched her arms above her head and ordered her to grasp the edge of the table. She was to remain thus, he said, until he told her to do otherwise. She fell completely at the mercy of his expert hands. His cunning fingers slid between the soft folds of her nether lips, teasing the little nub with a fingertip, curling the single, soft strand of hair around his forefinger, so that it glistened darkly with oil. The unexpected rush of sensation pouring through her, caused her to release a soft moan of pure pleasure. She could feel the pulsing arousal at the very core of her being wanting to burst forth from her.

Sensing her aroused state, Henri withdrew his hand, shaking a playful finger at her. "Ah-Ah-Ah!" he smiled knowingly. "Don't be so naughty, Arabella! None of that for you 'til you've been mated. And then only on his lordship's orders!"

A small, disappointed sound emanated from her throat as her slim hips arched up off the table seeking contact with his hand of their own accord. Instinctively, Arabella knew that this aching need she felt, now that it had been awakened, would not so easily be put to rest ever again.

Henri offered his gamine grin, fully aware of her predicament. "Now, now.'Tis not so bad as all that." he assured her. "And after a while, you get used to it.'Tis what is expected of you here, you know. One thing I must warn you about, however." And he frowned down at her with a serious expression on his youthful face, his hands on his hips. "You must learn self-Arabella control. I will help you, but you will be expected to control your sexual urges. You must never be caught satisfying yourself by your own hand. His lordship insists on harsh punishment for such infractions. Do you understand?"

Reluctantly, Arabella nodded that she did indeed understand.

"You may answer." Henri told her. "I am sure you have questions burning to be answered."

Breathing an audible sigh of relief, Arabella blurted out, "What am I doing here? What does Lord Thayer want of me?"

"My dear, don't you know? Haven't you guessed?" Henri raised his brows at her. "'Tis nearing festival time! The nobles need a mare to mate with the stallion. His lordship has been searching for weeks to find the perfect female. And now he has. . . you!"

"I've never been allowed to festival!" Arabella admitted. "Pettigrew wouldn't hear of it. But why me? Why not one of the other village girls who would be far more suitable than I?"

Henri laughed softly at her innocent question. "My sweet Arabella, are there no mirrors at the inn? His lordship saw you that first evening in the hamlet and decided to procure you for Belsoie and train you for the festival. Besides, it matters not how willing or unwilling you are. Once his lordship sets his eye on a female he wants, she has no choice in the matter. . . . . especially not a humble little serving maid such as yourself. And isn't this much better than slaving away for Pettigrew and his shrew of a wife? You'll be housed comfortably and you'll be dry and warm. And when your time of service is over here, you'll be rewarded with quite a large purse so that you will not have to return to the drudgery of the inn."

"My time of service? And how long is that to be?" Arabella asked.

Henri shrugged indifferently. "It depends upon your training for one thing. And how well you please Lord Thayer for another. I've known some mares to last less than twelve months and others who have stayed for as long as five years. The majority of them remain for a period of three years before being let go."

"But what happens to the women in this place? What is their purpose here?"

"All of the women," Henri explained, "once they pass through the gates of Belsoie, are referred to as 'mares'. His lordship selects only those women of exceptional beauty to bring to Belsoie. As to their purpose, that is simple enough. To please and pleasure Lord Thayer. You will live solely through your sexuality, which through training and discipline will be enhanced to its fullest measure. As I told you before, you will learn to like it here. Those females who are housed here, if they behave themselves, show their spirit, and are broken in well, are coddled and cossetted and given the best of his lordship's comfort and luxury."

"And what does his lordship take in return?"

"He takes nothing except that which you give him." Henri stated. "Which, given time, will be everything, my fair Arabella." he smiled faintly. "Your sole desire. . . . .and your soul's desire will be nothing less than to strive to please his lordship."

"And how do I accomplish this?" Arabella asked. "What is expected of me?"

"Why. . . . .whatever his lordship asks of you!" Henri replied as if it were a foregone conclusion. "Whatever he asks. Your will is not your own here within these premises. 'Tis best you learn that small lesson early, Arabella. It might save you a lot of grief later on. Now, have you any more questions? We must make you ready for the paddock. His lordship is not a patient man to be kept waiting."

"What is your role here at Belsoie, Henri?" Arabella ventured to ask.

"I am your caretaker and your trainer. You are the first mare Lord Thayer has put solely in my charge. I've worked in the stables here at Belsoie for nigh onto six years. The first three years as a stablehand, like Cynan and Owyn over there. The last three as head stablehand of this particular stable. "But I've never had charge of one single mare and especially not one as lovely as you and destined for the festival at that!"

"How many stables are there?" Arabella asked with incredulity.

"Four, altogether," Henri replied. "including the stable, housing Lord Thayer's private coterie."

"What does he do with all these. . . . .mares? He surely does not use them all himself? What kind of man is he?"

"Lord Thayer's prowess is legendary." Henri stated emphatically. "But no, he does not keep them all for his own use. Only his private coterie has that distinction. His stables are famous the countryside over among the noblemen and aristocracy. They come to purchase a mare or two of their own. The more beautiful and accomplished a mare is, the higher the price, of course. There are other estates that train and discipline stallions, like Lord Radegund, but that was never his lordship's preference. Even the king himself has visited Belsoie on occasion and Lord Thayer provides the palace the most exquisite of his mares. His majesty will deal with no other stables in the province. Right now," he informed her, "everyone is getting excited about the festival. Most of the mares from Belsoie will participate, as well as stallions from neighboring estates. And you, my dear, have the exclusive honor of being named this year's festival mare! A double honor, indeed, since you are a virgin! Which is rare!" he turned toward his worktable, where he sorted through various items and instruments cluttered there. Cynan rushed forward with a small silver bucket, from which Henri plucked out something she could not quite make out. As Cynan retreated, Henri continued, "Lord Thayer maintains a firm hand at Belsoie. He expects to be obeyed, but he is not cruel or unkind like some." He held up the small object between his fingers. "Ice." he stated simply. "Now, be a good girl and hold still for me. This will go a lot easier for us both if you cooperate."

With thumb and forefinger, Henri gently pulled apart the silken folds of skin protecting the pink pearl of her clitoris which still throbbed slightly from Lord Thayer's leather strap. Through lowered lids, Arabella watched as he pressed the small, cold rock of ice against her, holding it firmly between her nether lips. The sudden shock of coldness melted into her, a tiny cry Arabella erupting from her as the ice penetrated the warmth between her thighs, freezing the clitoris into aching numbness.

"Easy. . . . .easy, now." Henri crooned to her, even as he pressed the ice against her. Small shock waves of coldness radiated out from her clitoris, causing her legs to quiver with uncontrollable tremors. Her head thrashed back and forth upon the table and she tried to shift her hips away from the insidious cold crystal that assaulted her, but Henri only intensified the pressure, until she was forced to focus only on the numbing pain centered in her loins. Finally, exhausted, Arabella gave in to it, her slim hips pressing upwards against the icy shard, almost as if seeking it.

"That's it." Henri encouraged. "We're almost done now."

The thick cube of ice melted quickly to a thin, white sliver from the heat of her body. She felt Henri's cold, wet fingertips touching her, probing her, making her shiver.

Only when the ice had melted completely did Henri remove his hand, leaving her clitoris painfully swollen and numb with cold. A growing trepidation filled her as she saw him turn to retrieve a long, thin, wicked-looking needle from his worktable. The sight of it glinting in his fingers filled her with such apprehension she felt herself instinctively stiffen with dread.

Intent on his work, Henri did not bother with explanations or words of reassurance, but quickly and efficiently performed his task. Separating the folds of her vulva, he exposed her swollen, red clitoris, then, before she could utter a single word of protest or attempt to shield herself, Henri pierced her with the needle.

Arabella inhaled a sudden, sharp intake of breath, ready to scream from the pain she expected, but oddly, feeling only a dull, intense point of pressure as the needle punctured her, the ice apparently numbing the sensitive nerve-endings. Just as quickly,

Henri withdrew the needle, throwing it onto his worktable, and inserting a small, sterling silver ring with a tiny silver bell attached, into the neatly pierced hole, clipping the ends together firmly. The bell dangled just below the soft curl of dark hair nestled shyly between her nether lips.

Henri stood back to survey his work. Bracing his hands, palm down, on the flat top of the table, he said, "The silver ring and bell are Lord Thayer's mark of ownership. As long as you are at Belsoie, it is required that you wear it at all times. You will not be able to remove it yourself at any rate. Only I can do that and I can promise you it will not be removed until the day Lord Thayer releases you. If you try to run away and are found while wearing the bell, you will be brought back here and severely punished. Lord Thayer offers a goodly reward to the peasants who inhabit his lands, as well as to the neighboring nobility for the return of recalcitrant, runaway mares. So if you have any thoughts of escape, sweet Arabella, I would disabuse myself of them from this moment forward."

He patted her thigh absently, then turned to disappear into a small backroom, returning seconds later with a tiny pink ribbon trailing from his fingers. Leaning over the side of the table, he deftly tied the ribbon into a provocative miniature bow on the lone silken curl between her thighs. When he was finished, he straightened up, his hands on his hips, grinning at her.

"You'll be the envy all of the other mares, no doubt! Especially when they learn you are to be mated with the festival stallion. The mares spend their time here hoping for just such a chance as you have been given, little Arabella." With a wink, he flicked a finger at the tiny bell, giving it a jaunty ring. "Now, I'll have a light repast brought to you and then we must ready you for the paddock!"