Well, if you call hard ass work mucking out stalls and learning to groom and care for horses calm. Oh, and we can’t forget the part where I’m getting screwed into oblivion every night or, you know, at random points throughout the day whenever Xavier gets a wild hair that it seems like a good time to give Mel an orgasm and or to fuck her with whatever implement he might happen to have on hand.
Of course, never with his almighty cock. No, because apparently, I’d have to beg for that.
Ha. As if. He’s as crazy as he is inventive.
You see, he’s a big fan of improvisation. He always gives whatever object he’s decided to pleasure me with a good washing beforehand and he always sheaths it. He’s even prepared ahead of time and bought several things new just for this reason—such as one riding crop that he’s particularly fond of. He has a special leather bag in the stable full of his favorites. I have my own grooming brush, the crop, a bridle and bit he puts on me sometimes, and several other little toys.
At night inside the house is another story. There he has all different sizes and shapes of dildos he ordered for me. He gets an especially delighted grin every time he pulls a new one out of the box.
Sometimes he masturbates along with what he’s doing to me. Other times he doesn’t.
And even though I come every night, or hell, sometimes multiple times a day, I can’t help the mounting frustration that’s building. I don’t know what he wants from me.
Or I guess, God, that’s not true. He told me that first day out in the stables what he wants. For me to be out of my mind for him. And to freaking beg him?
I shake my head even as I scrape the pitchfork along the floor of the stall to separate Lulu’s clean bedding from the dirty. Then separate out the soiled hay. Lulu’s stall is one of the easiest. Maybe it’s because she was raised from a foal, but she always poops in one part of the stall and pees on the hay in another without getting her bedding too messed. I always leave hers for last because it’s a relative joy.
If only Lulu herself would warm up to me. But nope, while most of the other horses will let me approach them and I’ve even started grooming Pioneer, Bob, Paddyshack, and my favorite—Sugar—Lulu is still not a happy camper when I’m around.
She neighs and gets agitated, stepping back and forth, her eyes going crazy. Xavier says it’s something we need to work on and that she’s picking up on my anxiety, but I’m happy to just go groom one of the other nicer horses. Thankfully he hasn’t pressed the point.
And he has his hands full with Samson and the other animals.
He always spends a portion of his morning and evening with Holy Hellfire. He must have a special affection or relationship with the old ornery racehorse. Or rather, the racehorse who refused to race, I guess I should say. He puts ice packs on the aging horse’s hooves morning and night and feeds him a special grain. I’ll see him out there some evenings just standing and brushing his comb down the horse’s body long after the grooming should be done. If I wasn’t bound and determined to see Xavier for the bastard he is, I might almost think it was sweet. But nope, I’m far too clear-eyed for that.
Even if he did stop with the lasso around my waist after a couple of days. I swear, it’s like he’s extra assholish on purpose so then I’m brainwashed into thinking he’s being a good guy when he stops. Like how I felt all grateful after the shed. And now with letting me off the lasso. When he pulls back and gives me back a modicum of freedom, he’s suddenly my knight in shining armor? Such BS.
The petty politics people used to play back in the corporate world have nothing on this guy. Though, I don’t know, I go back and forth from being sure he’s a master manipulator and then thinking he’s just making up everything as he goes along, completely on the fly.
Because when he’s working with the horses, he seems like the most natural and guileless person on the planet.
Now that I’m not forced to watch him training Samson, I find myself wandering out to the front paddock between my other chores.
The progression has been sloooooooow, but Xavier has made headway with the beast. At first it was a lot of standing around staring at each other. Samson would bolt every so often until Xavier walked close, hemming the horse in until he finally stood still again. Commence another stare-off.
After a couple days, Samson would stop long enough for Xavier to come near enough to touch his muzzle. By day three, Xavier was able to scratch up his long nose and touch his neck.