Maxon arrived with his pipe in one hand a little wooden box in the other.
"Is Emily around?"
"Nope." Said Hannah. "She had to go down to the city. It's her sister's birthday."
"Oh, right, I remember hearing about that. Well, you can probably help me."
"What's up, boss."
"Jewel Box. I want her decorated."
Turquoise saw the filly rear in her stable with dread. And excitement? Maybe. Maybe more excitement than dread. After so much unwarranted punishment, she thought, Jewel was quickly developing the detachment of a good ponygirl. Really, it was a life of meditation. I would lay my brainwaves up against some Zen Buddhist's any day of the week, she thought. And then, conscientiously, she added: Except Friday, when I get to fuck.
"What have you got there?"
"Estonian amber. It's a perfect match for her freckles. I took pictures, see?"
"You're insane, boss."
"Yes, thank you. Can you do the piercings?"
"Sure, where do you want them… Jesus!" Hannah exclaimed, opening the box. "There must be fifty studs in here."
"Well, you don't have to use every last one." Hannah held up a tiny dot of amber on its stainless steel pin. They would look nice, Turquoise thought. Jewel Box. It was a nice touch.
"I was thinking the ears, of course, nose, eyebrow… dimples… lips… nipples… labia… clit… wherever you have two sides to work with."
"Ummm." Said Hannah, dubiously. "Ok, let's see. Nipples. You're not planning to sell her to anyone that wants to milk her?"
"I'm not planning to sell her at all."
"Yeah, that I have heard before. Ok. Ok. What about allergies, or keloids, or whatever?"
"We didn't have any problems with the silencer."
"No, but boss, this is fifty piercings. It's going to be a little bit of a shock, right?"
"Ok, so you do five today, five next week, whatever. You work out the details."
"Right."
"We're good, then?"
"We're good, boss."
Maxon left, and Hannah went to get her hemostats and needles and antibiotics from upstairs. Turquoise watched the filly trembling. Come on, be grateful. She bargained you down to five at a time. When Hannah returned, she sat down in Jewel Box'es stall for quite a while, looking the ponygirl up and down, making decisions.
"Fifty, huh? Listen girl, I'm going to spread them out. Honestly, I've never done piercings in sort of a batch job, you know? But I figure you have more infection risk if they're all next to one other. There! That was one, and you didn't even notice, did you?"
Hannah slid a double-sided amber stud into the filly's earlobe. In fact, it appeared that she hadn't noticed. Good for her. Another went in the other earlobe, apparently painlessly. The next stud went into her dimple, through her left cheek, and she sure noticed that. By the time Hannah got it into place, Jewel Box'es tears were flowing past the little drop of blood that framed the amber droplet. And then a double-sided stud went through her left eyebrow, and by the time the hemostats closed definitively on her left nipple - her exquisite, upward-yearning, engorged left nipple - Jewel Box was sobbing as if she had run into the electric fence.
Sure, it hurts, Turquoise sympathized. But so do Emily's floggings. And these leave you prettier, instead of just turning your ass into a couple of beets. And indeed, not an hour later, when Syzygy was being led by on his way back from harness practice, Jewel Box was smiling with pride and making sure he saw her left-hand side, with the amber subtly camouflaged on her perfect skin.
Turquoise would wake up already wet on Friday mornings, and then Ingrid would rinse those juices off with the soapsuds, and she would soon be wet again. She remembered vaguely that when she was a yearling, at Lazy K, she had not enjoyed being covered. Bearing up a sweaty stallion on her back as he pounded into her for a minute or two, her clit swinging free and untouched below - she had hated it. She much preferred her grooms, who would rub her down slowly, massage her, soap her, shave her, and sometimes even let her come with their fingers or a vibrator, as a reward for a good day's work. At Lazy K that had been unusual. The head groom, Amos, would usually take two ponies out into the center of the ring, and give a little lecture on obedience in some particular detail. One of them would exemplify the "bad pony," and get a flogging. The other, who had pleased Amos, was the "good pony," and got to come. Both lessons for all the other ponies to profit from. More often than not, though, Turq had been the first of the two lessons. But Amos loved her, because she always put up a great struggle.
She had been so haughty! The studs had mounted her, and she would freeze underneath them, letting them do their job, and then shrugging them off afterwards. At Thurim they had cured her of that. The grooms received instructions never to pleasure her. And when Ramses covered her - with his powerful fore-legs hammering at her sides, his cock that felt like a fifth hoof - the groom would take pictures of them. She took close-ups of Turquoise' face, her grimace of avoidance behind the gag, and then she would hang the picture's in Turquoise' stall. To look at, all day, all night.
It was a cheap trick, but an effective one. Looking at herself in those pictures, day in and day out, bereft of the pleasure that the grooms no longer provided, she began to long for Ramses instead. She still wanted the groom's rewarding fingers to ply her clit, she still shook her hips and pleaded whenever they washed her and oiled her. But the idea of having Ramses on her seemed very attractive, too.
Later, when she had a truer pony-mind, she started to prefer being covered. She dreamed of it for nights in advance. In her dreams it was the great, powerful stallions who took her, like Ramses, or the Greek. Sometimes she dreamed about the studs, or the other ponyboys that caught her eye, but always Dancers. When she dreamed of being covered by the new colt, Sirius, she dreamed he was a Maui Dancer, with four powerful hooves splayed around her. In her dreams, she would almost reach an orgasm, and it was that "almost," that hair-trigger, that she offered up to whatever stud was actually brought to cover her, snorting and sweating and dripping the juices of the other mares he had gone through that morning.
Here at Broken Oak, that had meant Pleides, and now it was Orion. Turquoise liked Orion. She did not respect him much as a pony - he was a Strider, after all, and he did not have good posture, and he did not have a pony-mind. A real pony would not have had such delicate sensibilities about mounting poor Jewel Box. But Turq liked Orion well enough as a barn-mate, and he was an excellent stud. He had a cock that did not get lost, and he had stamina. Even when she was last in line, Orion gave her all she wanted from a stud - and that had not always been the case with Pleides.
That morning she had already been out pulling the buggy while Orion was getting started on his rounds. The new zipper harness was exquisite torture. She could not tell if her ears were still sore from the piercing, or if they had just become incredibly sensitized to respond an instant before the traces pulled on her nipple rings. In any event, Emily was right, as usual. Her driver's control was much improved. Turquoise hoped they would realize this and take her off the stupid buggy track, let her try polo or kozlodranie or some other such game. She had heard stories about the Kozlo games in Siberia, where sometimes there were three hundred contestants and their ponies, all at once.
Ingrid had brought her back inside, hosed her off, and sprayed her cunt and the back of her neck with musk, which Turq found obnoxious but Orion liked. He was groaning against Magda, who seemed to be having a good time of it. Turquoise wriggled in gleeful anticipation. The pinnacle of the week had arrived.
She occasionally wondered what the stallions who weren't studs thought of on Fridays. Did they burn with jealousy and humiliation? Maybe so. But probably only the yearlings. The old ponyboys know how to accept their role. She wondered how Sirius felt. Surely he knows I would rather be under him? He must know that. If he doesn't, there's no sense trying to convince him. Ahh, but the cute ones always get sold off.
Then the door opened. Even craning her neck against the iron yoke, she could not see Orion past her blinkers. She heard Ingrid whispering encouragement - he must have been slow to get it back up. Emily was swearing. Ingrid gave her a sugar cube to suck on. She clenched and unclenched her buttocks, hungry for him.
And then, quite suddenly, he was on top of her. His massive cock punched into her triumphantly, and the sugar cube fell from her lips as she moaned. She pawed the ground, letting the force of him slide inside her, smooth and strong. Yes! My stallion! My stud! That's it, yes! Turq arched her neck wide, and he bit into it, just behind the metal yoke. She imagined he had four hooves, not the wretched two. She imagined he was Onyx, or Texas Trail. She imagined he had Sirius' bright eyes and shy smile. The blinkers made all that easy. And there was no need to imagine any other cock, or the lead-weight bags of his scrotum thudding against her clitoris. She gave him her orgasm like an ovation, riding him onto the waves of her bucking, snap hips. He slid inside her, oiled with her excitement, and Magda's and Comet's excitement before her. And he came with a gurgling snort, spurting hard inside her, so that he almost seemed to drive his cock back out of her smacking, hungry lips.
"That's it, that's my girl," said Ingrid, giving her another sugar cube. It is always over too soon. She sucked at the simple sweetness of it, feeling the sparks of the orgasm trail through her body. Locked in a stall with Orion for three days? She would have traded places with Jewel Box in a heartbeat, red-whipped ass or not.
But now there was some scuffle at Jewel Box'es stall. Turq climbed up on hind legs to see, letting a trail of musk and semen and nectar from three ponygirls drip down the inside of her leg.
Outside, clearly, Emily had decided to skip Jewel Box'es stall and go straight on to Ayesha. Orion was holding his ground with considerable force.
"If you wanted to cover her, you should have done it in your fucking stall." Emily was saying, punctuating her exasperation with swats of the riding crop. Ingrid and Hannah were hauling on his reins, but with a Hackamore bridle, they didn't have that much force.
"Get a twitch." Said Emily.
Hannah ran off to the tack room. Jewel Box peeped cautiously up over the door of her stable. Orion bellowed and made for the door, dragging Ingrid along with her.
"Goddamn it!" Emily shouted. Oooh, what fun.
Hannah cam running back with the twitch. No, you won't get him that way. Why not give him a zipper harness, Em? Then you can lead him around with a feather, like me. Hannah got the twitch into his nostril and tried to haul back on his head. Enraged, he cow-kicked her - hard. She went crashing back into the door of Turq's stall. Turq ducked, then looked down at Hannah, who was clutching her stomach and seemed unable to breathe.
"God fucking dammit!" Emily pulled out the taser and brought the stud down with two sizzling pokes. "Get the - no, fuck that, call an ambulance." Ingrid ran off. "And get Maxon!" Emily shouted after her. Orion stirred, and Emily stuck him with the taser again, then expertly hog-tied him and went to inspect Hannah.
"Hngg." Said Hannah. Emily kicked open the door of the stall, and let Hannah slide down onto Turquoise' hay.
"Can you move?"
"Ffk."
The conversation continued at about this pace for a moment or two. Finally Hannah wheezed. "Yah, fine…fine…just winded…probably…broken rib.
"Let me see."
Emily pulled up Hannah's shirt. She had splendid breasts, Turquoise thought. And a nice, round belly. She would have made a pretty ponygirl. An ugly black-and-blue mark, in the neat shield-shape of a horseshoe, marred the very bottom of her right ribcage, just under the breast.
"Breathe in. More. Ok, breathe out. They aren't moving."
"So no punctured lung." Hannah managed, smiling up at Turquoise inquisitive face.
"Hey, that's almost a full sentence. Don't try to get up until you're ready."
Hannah nodded. After a moment's reflection, she pulled her shirt back down. At length she stood up, slowly, using Turquoise as a crutch.
"How do you feel?"
"Like I've been kicked by a horse."
Ingrid came back in. "Hey, you're up. That's great. Ambulance should be here in twenty minutes."
"Wonderful." Hannah wheezed. "I'll just get out of the barn… yeah? Save us… some extra questions."
"Didn't Maxon buy the hospital an MRI machine?" Said Ingrid.
"Yes," said Emily dryly, "But that doesn't mean he bought each of the paramedics a new snowmobile. Hannah's right, let's clear out."
"What about the stud?"
There was a moment's silence.
"Hannah?" Emily asked.
"Entirely up to you."
"I say we geld him. I'll talk to Maxon."
Ingrid nodded. "Ok. Give me the word and I'll get set up."
Emily cupped her hands and shouted out "Yeesh, Dolly, Minka - you can go fuck your water buckets if you like. We are closed for business." Poor things, Turquoise thought, They must be hot as lava, and no one to cool them down. She saw Ayesha, who had been next in line, bare her teeth in frustration.
Leaning on Emily, Hannah wheezed outside. Ingrid left. Orion whimpered softly from the floor. With the door of her stable wide open, Turquoise walked out to the end of her reins and struck a pose before him. Take a good look, big guy. If they geld you, then I'll be the last filly your cock ever got inside. He groaned. She turned halfway around to display her cunt, still dripping a long, slow, stream of his ejaculate. Was it good for you? Was it good enough? I hope so. It doesn't sound like you're getting another chance. Accidents could happen, of course. And having Emily pissed off at you was nothing new. But to have Emily and Hannah pissed at you, that was pushing a lot of buttons.
Off in the distance, Turq heard sirens arrive and cut short. Orion buried his head in the straw, groaning. After a very long time, Emily returned.
"Ingrid?" She called out.
"I'm upstairs."
"Maxon says to go ahead. Do we have an ecraseur?" At that instant, as Orion heard the death sentence read for his life as a stud - no, even more, for your life as a male, as a ponyboy - Turquoise caught his eyes. He was perfectly lovely, horrified, helpless. He looked like a colt who had just been bitted for the first time. For a moment, Turq's heart went out to him completely. Oh, Orion. Don't you realize? You'll be so much better as a gelding than you were as a stallion. No sex, of course. But you'll finally have your pony-mind. In comparison to that, a few orgasms are a small price to pay.
"Let's bring him upstairs." Said Ingrid, coming downstairs herself.
"All right."
No, no, I want to watch. I've never seen it done. But it was no use. They untied him and led him meekly up the steps, the silver ecraseur dangling casually from Ingrid's fingers, like a hoop earring. Turquoise lay on her cradle-bars and sulked until she could hear the piteous neighing from the hay-loft.
Orion's weighty cock, which had once ruled the barn, was now pierced both fore and aft. A heavy metal ring the grooms called an ecraseur ran through both holes, doubling his organ back on itself terribly. He pissed backwards now, like a mare, and Emily would beat him sometimes for soiling his tail, a crime which only Jewel Box had not outgrown. Much more terribly, though, he could no longer get a real erection. The grooms let him out in the pasture with the ponygirls, and Sirius watched him from across the fence. He sulked, but his cock was swollen hopelessly in the ring's steel embrace. He could not mount anyone; he could not come. And he had not become a ponygirl, of course - he was a gelding, meant for work and not for sex. Forever after.
It took Sirius a few days to realize what this meant. There was no stud. Perhaps he, Sirius, would be the next stud. And get to come seven times a week, not in Hannah's palm but in the warm, welcoming beauty of the fillies. And get the best food, and the easiest treatment, and the massages, and everything. It was such a perfect dream that Sirius tried desperately not to think about it, lest he jinx himself in some way.
In the days following Orion's disgrace, the grooms took Syzygy up to the phantom, and then Scorpio, but Sirius had no way of figuring out how well they did. He tried to put it out of his mind, to remain detached, but he could not. The following Friday, each of the stallions looked up eagerly whenever the grooms passed by, and all seven ponygirls stomped and nickered with disappointment. None of the ponyboys were selected as the new stud that day. Perhaps Maxon was going to buy a new one; perhaps Emily simply was taking a break for things to calm down. No one bothered to say.
A few days later, Orion went in to the vet, to make sure the piercing for the ecraseur were healing properly. Sirius did not expect to see him come back. "Do you want to continue being a pony?" "Hell, no, doc." But he was back that evening, much to Sirius' surprise, and he even seemed happier, a bit more resigned.
Hannah had climbed into Orion's stable and had oiled him. She was giving him a shoulder massage and a consolation speech, a speech which Sirius shuddered to hear. He certainly never wanted it addressed to him.
"You'll see," she said. "It's better to be a gelding. You'll be a better pony. As a stud, you were just the life support system for a cock, weren't you? Mount and squirt, mount and squirt. It keeps you all hopped up, all crazy, almost like a human. A gelding can focus on who he is. What he's doing. All the great racehorses are geldings, you know that, right? And all the best workhorses, too. No more distractions, Orion. Think of that! No more distractions."