Mandy stood and shivered under his hands, but she couldn’t even nod her head in agreement, she was so tightly bound.
“Well,” Aaron said in a very low, comforting tone, “maybe you’ll like me better if I can help you unwind some, hmmm, sweetheart?”
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.
“Ahhh, sweetie pie girl, don’t you fret about being handled like this,” he continued his gentle, inexorable manipulations as that slick territory swelled and strained beneath his fingers, both voluntarily and involuntarily. “I’m just the first of many – there’s no room for shame or embarrassment here. Whatever you were before you came here is well and truly gone now, and you are now and forever an owned filly – owned by me.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in that statement. “You’re a cosseted, well-cared for ponygirl who nonetheless will feel the sting of the cane or a paddle or strap across her backside if she doesn’t obey the men around her who train and handle and take good care of her. Ted is going to do this to you every time he grooms you – it’s a requirement I have of all of my grooms – that they satisfy each mare in their care every morning and every evening, and they can choose to do the deed with either their hands or their mouths.”
More reluctant but excited moans and groans, struggles that were rapidly waning as he brought her closer and closer to his goal against her will. Her muscles were tensing again from more than her awkward efforts to escape; she was nearing orgasm just as he’d planned. Aaron read her responses quite expertly as her breath began to heave out of her lungs and her back arched. He redoubled his efforts, slipping down her crease a little further to gather the moisture he was gratified to find at her virgin entrance, bringing it back up to baptize her little bump. Those fingers caressed her relentlessly until he saw her try to throw her head back and felt her convulse beneath his hand, keening in that awkward way the new ones had because of the way the spray affected their vocal chords. He didn’t let up, though, milking her dry of every possible spasm, although she began to fight him again immediately after the first few hard contractions, despite his murmurs of encouragement to give in to it and enjoy it.
Afterwards, she collapsed in on herself as much as was possible physically as he made preparations to take her to her own stall. Aaron attached reins to the rings at the cheeks of her bit-less bridle, lowered the platform with a hydraulic switch so that it was level with the floor again, and released her wrists, waist, and ankles. He coaxed her up onto her feet, helping her a lot with muscles that were not cooperating well after such a long time in one position, only then realizing when he looked at her face that she was crying – she’d being doing it in complete silence.
Before he moved to comfort her in any way, he saw to her safety and his, folding her arms back behind her one by one and locking her forearms together in gauntlets that kept them bound there. In an abstract moment he considered how much he loved what this did to a filly’s breasts, throwing them into amazing prominence with their wonderful tips pointing straight out. Eventually, he would decorate Mandy’s beautiful little nubs, but not right now. The last thing he did was hobble her ankles together with a short length of sturdy leather.
He stood next to her, towering over her, and by casually turning her head, Mandy was able to get her first quick look at the man who already knew her with an incredible amount of intimacy. On all fours, Amanda had not gotten any real sense of his size, but she was a smallish, delicate woman who barely stood over five feet. Normally, she wore four inch heels and big padded-shoulder business suits to compensate for her lack of stature – to say nothing of her carefully cultivated killer, kill joy personality. As she stood there in bare feet, he must’ve been at least a foot taller than she was – and probably outweighed her by more than an hundred and fifty pounds of what appeared to be solid muscle. He was huge, and for some reason that just made her cry all the harder.
Aaron was well aware that his charge was trying to get a gander at him, and that was fine as long as it didn’t interfere with what he was doing for her, but it worried him that, having looked at him, she was crying even more. He almost smiled, wondering if he hadn’t perhaps been quietly and firmly insulted by the little one, which he was sure she’d just love the idea of at this point. “Shah-shah-shah,” he shushed gently at her broken-hearted tears that were ripping into him. He hated to see any woman cry, but he thought that seeing a ponygirl cry was even worse, because it was harder for her to tell him what was wrong, and sometimes harder for him to fix it, unless the tears were inspired by a scolding or a punishment in which case he knew that they were well earned although they were still hard to hear. His body definitely drew pleasure from the punishment of a naughty pony, and he understood the reasons behind how necessary swift, regular – at first – punishments were – even the harsher sessions – but his heart and mind always felt inherently discomfited by it; Aaron always saw his role as a pony breeder/trainer as much more of a caretaker who guided and comforted and praised and pleasured his girls into obedience, even though he went to the whip if it was necessary – and frankly, the idea of having to do that with Mandy – which he was quite sure was going to be the situation for a while until she settled into her new existence – made him stiff as a poker. But he hated to think of that as his predominant method. He would always give a filly the chance to decide to behave herself.
Whether she complied with the rules or not was one of the few things she would still have control over in this life.
“What’s with the tears, little one? Am I that ugly that one look and you’re bawling your eyes out?” he let his voice smile at her.
She sniffled a little and seemed embarrassed that he’d commented on her weeping.
Aaron took a handkerchief from his back pocket that he had deliberately scented with the brand of aftershave he always used and carefully wiped her face. He knew that scent associations were very important in training his girls, and he wanted his scent to represent comfort to Mandy. “Now, then, that’s much better, honey-girl, isn’t it? Yes, it is. Now. Let me explain to you how to walk properly with your trainer or groom: your groom will always be on your left side holding your reins or the lead to your halter. You will always be as you are whenever you are taken somewhere – although you’ll usually be wearing more decorations than you are now, you’ll always be nude, even when you’re dressed up – or ‘dressage’ nude, the only things you’ll be wearing will be little tassels or bells hanging from those pretty pink nipples of yours, or dripping out of your bare cunt, which will never again have hair on it.” He deliberately stroked each area as he spoke of it, and when she tried to struggle away he gave her her first training lessons in ponygirl behavior – never fidget away from the man who is handling you – especially at a stand, but generally not anywhere else, either, unless you were being punished, in which case it was considered natural to flinch from the implement or hand.
Each time she moved even the slightest bit away from his hand, she got a sharp smack to her already tenderized derriere with something that felt like stiffened leather. It smarted something fierce and quickly had her reconsidering whether or not she should be flinching away from him, even if that was what her mind wanted her to do each and every time. Her bottom was definitely screaming that she did not want to have to feel that horrid thing stripe her already tortured flesh again.
“Stand proud,” Aaron repeated the command in a low growl for the umpteenth time after delivering yet another sharp smack to the stubborn pony’s backside. “Stand still, Mandy, or I promise you we will be here all night until you learn to do so. I have nothing else to do but to teach you proper ponygirl behavior. And a ponygirl does not try to get away from her handler’s touch.” He deliberately pressed a thick finger between her nether lips, watching her reaction closely. Her teeth were clenched hard, which he knew had to hurt from her recent dental surgery, and tears of frustration and pain tracked down her face and onto her heaving bosom.
But she stayed still.
There would never be any question that in a war of wills with a stubborn pony as to who would win the fight. Aaron had been doing this since he could hold the reins in his hands. He had grown up dominating women in general and ponygirls in particular. He’d seen every trick in the book and he’d dealt with all of the various personalities the fillies had when they’d first arrived. Mandy was his favorite type – a castrating, balls-to-the-wall business woman. The idea was to turn her consciousness more inwards and bring her sexuality to the forefront; he already knew her preferences ran to submission. All he really would be doing would be indulging those submissive tendencies to a somewhat radical extent. She would be getting just what she secretly wanted – and more. Much more. Her ability to submit would be enhanced and tested to its limits.
The tentative question was how would she react – how would she decide to be. As much as the men at the Stables would control her behavior – and they would control essentially every single aspect of it. But only she could decide whether she would be happy in this life, being coddled and cosseted and floating on a cloud of intense sexual satisfaction, well-fed, wellclothed – such as it was – with pretty – if ponygirl – accoutrements in an always clean, fresh stall, being bred frequently and by a multitude of different men, eventually.
“Good girl. That’s my good girl,” Aaron praised lavishly, petting her gently on the back, beneath the curtain of her mane. His hands roamed freely about her body, testing her responses and making sure that she behaved no matter where he touched her, and, even when his fingers sought out her most intimate secrets, she remained quiet under his hand. “That’s very, very good, baby girl. You see – as long as you behave, everything’s all right. You’ll always feel gentle hands and tender touches. Every man around you will do his level best to make sure that you are the most comfortable we can possibly make you. You don’t want to misbehave, honeygirl, I know you don’t, because then every man around you will do his level best to make sure you’re as uncomfortable as we can possibly make you – whether that’s putting you into an uncomfortable and vulnerable position and/or taking a paddle to your behind… there will always be a painful consequence to any naughtiness you might get up to, Mandy. Always.”
Aaron again gathered the reins in his hands as he spoke. “When you’re being led at a walk, Mandy, you must never get ahead or behind your groom or trainer – or any many that might be walking you. You must always keep pace with them to stand and walk proudly beside them. You’ll be hearing the command ‘Walk Proud’ a lot in the next few weeks. This means to thrust your breasts out as far as you can, keep your head high, eyes straight – never head down or eyes down – with your knees brought up very high for each step.” He took a step forwards, and so did Mandy, but her first instinct was to look down at her feet because the hobbling required that she take small, dainty steps – whatever material they were using in the hobble would allow her knees to come up in the preferred manner, but she could not take large steps ahead at all – especially since she just noticed that her knees were covered and braced with an extra padding that must’ve cradled her there while she was on all fours.
She felt a mild tug on the reins as he reminded sharply, but not nastily, “Head up – walk proud.” It was only about fifty feet into the stall he lead her to, but Mandy was corrected a multitude of times between here and there – her knees weren’t lifted high enough for him towards the end of her journey, she jerked her head around when Ted reappeared to see how Aaron was progressing with the feisty one, and she’d even gotten several crisp swats to her bottom from that horrible leather thing that made her yelp because she’d gotten ahead of him and behind him a few times.
In truth, Amanda had considered the possibility of merely going limp and refusing to do the whole thing. But she figured several things would happen if she did that – firstly, she figured her bottom would end up feeling much worse than it did right now, which was pretty damned bad. Secondly, she figured that, once the behemoth next to her realized that she truly wasn’t going anywhere, he’d simply pick her up and carry her to where he wanted her, so she’d end up there anyway. So she went. The idea of lying down and getting some sleep sounded like a fantastic idea to her, and she fully intended to regroup for a fight the next morning.
Ted was lavish in his praise, and used a particular voice with it – higher pitched, a little louder and very enthusiastic. “That’s it, Mandy, you got it. Knees up, girl, thataway. Good girl!
You are one magnificent animal – look at that mane flow!”
Everything was fine until he touched her back and breasts and she shied away automatically. While Aaron held her head with the reins close under her chin, Ted took his own tawse out and give her seven very hard strokes, scolding her as he did so just as fiercely as he had been heaping compliments on her not seconds before. “A ponygirl never never never moves away from a man’s touch, naughty girl. I can see this is something we’re going to have to work on. That’s naughty naughty naughty behavior and it won’t be tolerated.”
Mandy yipped and yelped – or tried to – with each searing stroke, but was reduced to blowing heavy, hot lungsful of air out of her nostrils and mouth as the tears flowed again down cheeks that were already stiffened by the salt of her prior sobs. All of the things they were demanding that she remember and all of the pain and pleasure of the last few hours had caught up with her. Amanda was beside herself, with her loins still throbbing from Aaron’s fondling, and her bottom set on fire repeatedly by their hands and their leather straps and their vicious wooden paddles, her shoulders were aching from the way her arms were yanked and clamped behind her, which put her bobbing breasts on obscene display for any one who cared to look – and apparently she could do nothing but stand still and take it whenever any man who happened by decided to reach out and touch her there or anywhere! It was all too much for her, and as soon as her hobbles and arms were released, she fell to the floor and sobbed her heart out right where she landed. She didn’t care if they thought she was weak for it. It was just more than she could stand and her mind wouldn’t let her deal with it a minute longer.
The men did nothing for or to her for several long moments; they both knew that in a case like this it was just better to let a filly cry it out for a little while. She would feel better in the morning. Ted and Aaron puttered about her stall, not that it hadn’t been readied for her just after she was acquired, but both being type-A’s, especially about their girls, they tidied a few things up and talked over the lilac/lavender decision, deciding to rotate for a while until one or the other scent jumped out at them. They made sure her pile of hay for sleeping was soft and comfortable and covered with several sheets of pure purple silk embroidered with the Generation Stables crest, which was a U of horse tails with a filly in profile in the “display” position for breeding, and a groomsman/trainer behind her. It was obviously a groom because there was a patch with a bold “G” on his shoulder. He was giving her what she needed most, a broad grin on his face. All of this was elaborately detailed in gold thread in the corner of each horse blanket, each set of silk sheets – the crest was everywhere, including on the patch on the shoulder and above the left breast nametag on the light denim shirts every groom and trainer was required to wear. Hell, even Aaron wore a GS uniform shirt with his worn jeans every single day. Stable hands wore them too, but they were just plain cotton t-shirts with the emblem on the breast. Groomsmen and trainers – one was almost always the same as the other – went a step further in their commitment to the Stables, though.
These men were promoted from their status as hands – only. Aaron never hired a groom or a trainer off the street – ever. They had to have been with the Stables at least five years and have exhibited exemplary behavior in that somewhat menial role. They were temperament tested during the hiring process, as well as by the job itself every day – any abuse towards the animals, verbal or physical, or any hand found dipping his wick where it didn’t belong or not within specified parameters was set off the property immediately, and he would be damned lucky if the rest of the crew – especially Aaron himself – didn’t give him some gut-punches and broken ribs as going away presents.
If a hand applied to be a groom or a trainer – or both – then they went through an incredibly extensive battery of personality tests as only one small part of the exceedingly stringent application process. There weren’t usually a lot of those slots available – this was a man’s lifework and he didn’t leave it easily, although Aaron did automatically retired them at fifty due to strength and health concerns, but the men with huge pension and stock option benefits, as well as a lifelong ability to come back to the Stables and indulge himself with any mare that was available. Aaron had also started a program whereby those retirees that wanted to could come back on a consulting basis in whatever area they liked best – breeding, training, grooming, stable construction… Aaron appreciated and accepted suggestions from any man – but the retirees had a wealth of knowledge and experience that no one could replace.
But when there was a coveted position open, there were usually upwards of twenty-five applicants for each job, and Aaron would only pick the best possible of the candidates to entrust his babies to. It was a tradition that when a hand became a groom, he had the GS crest tattooed into his skin right beneath where he would proudly display the patch on his uniform.
Ted had been at the stables for fifteen years. He rivaled Aaron in size, strength, and ability with the mares. Their temperaments, personalities, and philosophies about ponygirls were very much alike, which is why Aaron had chosen Ted to be Mandy’s groom. He knew Ted would reinforce anything Aaron decided to do with her without question, just as firmly as if Aaron himself was doing the reinforcing, with an eye to praise and positive feedback, but with a complete willingness and ability to use the whip – well, the crop or the tawse or the paddle; whips were not allowed on the premises except in the ring more for show.
They were opposites in looks, however. Aaron was tall and very dark with black hair and eyes, and a wide, trimmed mustache. Both of them were tanned and extremely muscular, but Ted was tall and gray since he was twenty or so; he defined salt and pepper hair, but he still had a full head of it – Aaron used to tease him that if he were a stallion he’d throw gray colts – along with a somewhat bushy gray mustache. If either of them had had a mind to, they could have easily been models. Ted, in particular, made a striking picture of the quintessential cowboy, although Aaron was no slouch in the masculinity department, either, nor were any of the men that worked there – they were all big, strapping men with extremely high levels of testosterone (blood and drug tests were mandatory upon application, and drug testing was randomly conducted for the length of any man’s employment at GS. No alcohol was ever allowed to be consumed around the animals, either), but they treated the animals entrusted to them as if they were priceless – hell, they never even swore around the mares, and any man that did was frowned at so much that he stopped immediately. The men all used particular words and phrases that made the ponies feel and act submissive – they were often spoken to as if they were little girls – words like “naughty” and “disobedient” and “little” were used a lot, as were either animalistic or babyish words for body parts or functions – “breasts” became “udders”, nipples were “teats”, “vagina” became “cunny” or “pussy”… They were all tough, macho, dominant men who thoroughly understood the psychology employed in the intricacies of wrangling their particular breed of little fillies, which they enjoyed a helluva lot more so than they preferred working with real horses.
It was Ted who, when they had decided that she’d had enough time to wallow, bent and picked up the crumpled little mare to set her down with the utmost care on her bed. Aaron loosened her arms from behind her, only to use the same leather gauntlet to rewrap her forearms together in front of her, adding thumbless mittens to her ensemble just incase she decided to harm herself – occasionally a filly was so unhappy she tried to harm herself, so this was merely a preventative measure. Lord knows everyone here hated to see any sort of blemish on a mare’s hide. Once Ted determined that she was stable enough in her new life not to do that, she would no longer be required to wear them at night.
The restraints were not apt to go away unless she behaved in an exemplary manner for a long time – although they could be reduced to a certain extent. Not only were her hands bound, but her supple leather collar was attached to a lead which was bolted into the floor, and the length of her hobbles was shortened by Ted, who was working at her other end, so that her ankles were essentially bound together as securely as her wrists. Mandy was lying on her side and this worked to their advantage when Aaron leaned over her hip from the front, pulling her towards him, almost over onto her belly but not quite. Someone, who must’ve been Ted, was behind her, and she soon discovered why: before Mandy even had a chance to register what was happening, she found her upper bottom cheek pulled up and something fairly thick but blunt pressed against her tight little hole. As it was pushed uncompromisingly up into her, Mandy emitted a low “unnghh”, and got a gentle reproach, “Quiet now, this is one of your fussy pills, little girl.” It popped up into her channel, sitting in there and filling it with its wide presence as surely as it had stretched her open to get there. Another followed just as quickly and easily, filling her to an uncomfortable extent, and the third one made her groan as it was worked up into her, then took its place with the other big rods inside her bottom. The men exchanged satisfied glances. She had taken them well. The fussy pills were fairly good sized suppositories – about an inch and a half around and about two inches long each – that were designed to melt very slowly inside her, but not irritatingly so. Only a very small part of them was actually the drug. They were deliberately large, hard to accept pieces to give the little filly something to distract her from her troubles and to seat her mind’s attention where it belonged for the rest of her life – at her bottom, her genitals and the area between her legs or at her breasts – in the places at which she was most female, most vulnerable, and most concerned with pleasure and breeding. To further encourage this concentration, Aaron reached towards her head and flipped something from her blinkers over her eyes, so that she couldn’t see anything – nothing – no light, no shadow, no motion.
In an almost fatherly gesture, Aaron leaned over and kissed the now soulfully keening woman on the forehead. “Sleep well, my lovely.”
From Ted, she received a light pat on the bare flank. “Get a good night’s sleep, girl, there’s a lot for you to begin learning tomorrow.”
Mandy would never know it, but she was far from alone that night. Ted and Aaron took turns watching her all night, not to mention the fact that the stables was staffed twenty-fourseven. Each stable housed sixty ponies in a building that was designed like a plus sign – sort of. Three arms of the plus had nothing but immaculate stalls, twenty to an arm, ten to a side. Each stall had its own food and spring-fed trough, electrical outlets set up high where the ponies couldn’t get to them, thermostat, air conditioning, aromatherapy equipment, vaporizer, air purification… anything he could think of to make each filly’s stay as pleasant as possible. They were kept cleaner than most peoples’ houses and were open and airy. The fourth arm was the indoor paddock and training and show rings. Grooms and trainers who had new charges always stayed with them at night – although the fillies didn’t know it unless they got into some type of trouble, but there was a night staff of hands who did nothing but make the rounds all night long checking into stalls to make sure that no mare was in distress in any way. Mares in foal were housed in their own stable, and their grooms, hands, and handlers followed her to that special stable once she was determined to be in foal, as well as any and all of her familiar accoutrement so that the transition was as easy as possible for her – her scents and colors were scrupulously maintained, as was as much of her normal routine as possible.