This trip out of the village didn’t take long. Or maybe it was naked fear blinding Jay from noticing. He’d much rather his earlier moment with Marta to this consuming emotion.
Simon was hopping up into the bed of the cart and unhooking him from the rail in moments. Jay was descending into a full blown panic attack as he glanced around wild eyed at the ranch grounds. He looked, but saw nothing except being taken advantage of and having no way out. Jay shook with adrenaline, his fight or flight response sending him pulling against the lead attached to his collar.
Big hands framed his face, Simon’s gray stubbled face filling his dim vision.
“Whoa, stallion. I won’t hurt you.”
They all said that. Jay was trapped in the past. His first time in foster care after his parents relinquished custody rushing up. He was told he was safe when he was anything but safe. They’d handed him over and didn’t gave a fuck what happened.
The Petersons they were supposedly the picture of a wonderful foster family, but he’d felt anxious fear in their presence. ‘I won’t hurt you’ were the first words out of Thomas Peterson’s mouth. It was every bit as terrible as he’d imagined when they arrived home. No, not home. That place was never his home.
“Whoa.” Jay felt himself being lowered to his knees in soft grass. “Whoa, boy. Easy, I’m not like the other owners.”
Was he fighting? Jay was totally outside of himself. The past was a physical thing that had always threaten to destroy him. He’d thought he’d bested it when he moved, went to school, beat the odds by landing his fancy add job. He knew the truth of it then as it flooded him.
He’d only buried it, he’d never dealt with the wounds.
“He’s wild. Bring me the plug.” Simon’s voice was a low drone in the background.
What Jay heard was the high voice of Thomas… knocks at his door every night, and the slow creak of it opening. Of promising himself he’d run away every morning. Jay remember his face in the mirror two years later. The face of a prisoner.
He finally moved on to a new foster family when Mr. Peterson got tired of him. The damage had been done. He was full of rage that he had no outlet for.
Jay didn’t hear himself shouting out loud, screaming for help. Screaming with rage. Words he couldn’t say as a young boy, bubbled out now. He fought the bindings around him now, that dormant rage a living thing inside of him.
Hands yanked until he was down on the ground. He fought still, they’d have to put him down before he’d yield.
With his face pressed to the grass, Jay cried out as his ass cheeks were prized apart and something firm pressed against his anus.
“Relax.” Simon’s voice was a harsh whisper in his ear. “Just relax.”
The muscles were slow to release, but the burn made him tremble. A firm push and something big settled deep, rubbing on his prostate. He felt uncomfortably full, anxious, and angry. Every time he moved, the thing inside bumped his prostate he felt a jolt of pleasure.
“No,” he groaned.
A hand gripped hard and shook him like a bad dog. It broke through his blind panic and dropped him back in the moment. He was beside a sandy corral, inside of which were people with hoods on that made them look like horses.
Jay was held fast, the muscles of his ass clenching around the object. The brush of something soft danced on the back of his thighs. Horse hair.
“I need to get him properly dressed before we enter the barn. Bring the rest of the kit.” There was a pause. “This part is going to be hard. We do not hurt our ponies here, but you have to be calm or I’ll have to take the whip to you.”
“Fuck you,” Jay hissed at the man. That earned him a lash on his back.
“Don’t be an idiot, boy. I’ve seen your strength.”
Simon’s words were firm as was his hand on the back of Jay’s neck.
“Three months is all I’m asking. I will treat you with respect and dignity if you behave.” His breath was hot on Jay’s face, but it didn’t feel sexual or overwhelming. “You can survive this just as you’ve survived everything else if you’re smart.”
He had survived. Jay felt like those were words of freedom. His body relaxed and the ever intuitive Simon noticed, some of the tension leeching from his big body.
“That’s it.” He released his grip on Jay’s neck and stroked a hand down his back to grip his flank. “Listen to my voice and breathe.”
Drawing in a breath, he held it and then blow it out. Some of the rage dissipated as Simon talked him down. He wasn’t broken, he wasn’t wasted, he had survived.
“Here we go. Don’t fight me.”
Shockingly, Jay listened. Maybe all the fight had been burned out of him or he trusted this man to keep his word.
A firm hand gripped his cock. From one breath to the next, the ring was removed and something cool and snug was fitted around it. His arms were unbound and long gloves were laced up to his shoulders, forcing his hands into fists. His feet were slid into long black boots with heels that came up to his knees.
He expected a hood to drop over his head, but a red ball appeared instead.
He clenched his jaw, but opened his mouth when a hand appeared to grip his chin. The ball was pushed in, opening his jaw wide. Spit immediately began to dribble out.
“That’s it. Let’s get you into the barn for a rest before training.”
Simon helped him up. The plug shifted in his ass and he whimpered. It made his cock twitch.
Glancing down, he realized what contained him was a cock cage. The boots on his feet were shaped like horse hooves and made the clacking noise that shoed horses made when they walked. He felt utterly ridiculous, but was more calm than he’d been in a long time.
They approached an industrial sized barn. The door stood wide and Jay could see human ponies being led in and out of stalls. Simon was more gentle than he’d expected when he directed him inside and picked up a brush.
“I have few rules, but they are iron clad.”
He pressed Jay’s shoulder until he knelt on the hay covered ground. Simon pressed again until he went to all fours. He hooked his collar to a chain on the floor. Jay hung his head, humiliation suddenly making him choke.
“Be proud, boy.” Simon yanked Jay’s head up. “That’s my first rule. My second is no touching yourself without permission.”
The soft brush was applied to his skin, moving in slow circles that brought all the blood to the surface. Jay shivered, he’d never been cared for in his life, had refused care many times. This felt suspiciously like tender care with none of the sexual connotation he was used to receiving with it. It was scarier than the panic.
He tried to move away, but was flummoxed by the damn hooves and chain. He received a slap on his flank for his trouble.
“You’ll always be brushed down at the end of the day. Do not fight the lead.” The brush moved down his side. “You’ll listen and go when I tell you. This is about work and you work for me.”
The brush continued to move, those slow circles relaxing him.
“Don’t let this break you. Keep your head.”
It was soothing, Simon words sinking deep.
When he was done, Jay’s body felt loose and shivery. The urge to sleep was so strong, his head drooped down. Simon unhooked him, slight pressure on his shoulder keeping him on all fours. Jay was led to a corner that was brimming with blankets. The ball gag was removed from his mouth and he flexed his jaw. He didn’t have to be forced to lie down, fatigue had him dropping willingly. He turned to his side and curled up.
As he dozed, he head Simon speaking to someone.
“I’m the only one allowed to handle this one. Leave him to rest for now and I’ll come back later.”