Saddled, Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Clive opened his email. Despite his supposedly top of the line network, his computer immediately started buffering. Twenty four hours ago, Clive would have pulled out his phone and threatened to fire every person who worked in his IT department. Instead he leaned back against the wall of the riding arena. The stone was cool, and Clive regretted not bringing his jacket out, but he couldn’t leave Spirit working without supervision. 

The plug clearly bothered the man. He was much livelier—adding in little half-steps and hops every now and then. The irregular gait made his tail dance merrily, and Clive pulled on his inseam before his cock ripped a hole through his pants. He wanted to take Spirit, but patience was a virtue. He didn’t want to break this animal too quickly or roughly. He was special.

When his email finally connected, Clive sent off a quick note to the agency thanking them for their help in identifying an assistant for the weekend. Then he turned to the far less pleasant task of making sure that moron in L.A. didn’t weasel his way back into the fucking project. Clive was not a fan of violence outside of a mutually beneficial contract, but he was starting to wonder if the agency could help him find someone willing to throat punch Brandon Robinson.

Brenda had sent him an email warning him that Robinson was throwing around the “r” word in California, and Clive felt his blood pressure rise. That ass. Once Clive got this little ass kicked off the Uninvited project, he was going to make sure no one in Hollywood or Broadway ever worked with the little shit. 

Chains rattled, and Clive hit the pause button on the hot walker. Spirit hung from his chains for a second, and then got one leg under him. He shivered. The motion was small, but it sent ripples down his tail, and Clive groaned. Right. Who the fuck cared about Robinson when he had a beautiful animal waiting for his attention? Clive leaned forward and watched as Spirit got his second leg under him and finally stood on his feet. Then Clive restarted the hot walker. 

When Spirit came around the far side of the circle, Clive could see his face twisted in concentration, sweat beading so that his face shone in the sun that streamed in from the skylights. He was stunning, and temperamental. When he’d been grooming Spirit, Clive could read his desire to kick or bite in every twitch of his beautifully muscled frame. What a treat.

Feeling better, Clive turned back to business, typing up a quick letter to Robinson listing every deadline the man had missed and every part of the production he had screwed up. He had claimed to own the rights to the movie when the rights were in dispute. He had failed to negotiate a musical score within the budget. He had alienated one star and had made specious promises about his ability to secure another. As a producer, he was not only a failure, but an albatross that threatened to take the whole project down in a multimillion dollar train wreck of epic proportions. 

Clive had no intention of having his project end up in the tabloids as a failure that others would snicker over. And if Robinson tried labelling Clive as a racist, well Clive was ready to strike back. There were damn few minorities of any sort behind the camera, but most blacks involved in producing and directing were better than their spoiled, white counterparts who had started their careers with their parents’ money. 

That wasn’t entirely fair. A number of producers had worked their way to the top. Clive had started as a dolly grip before moving to a key grip and then an assistant to the second assistant director before sinking every penny he could scrape together on a long shot that paid off. A loose network of self-made men and women in Hollywood tried to support one another, but sometimes the sheer volume of entitled assholes made California feel like a bonfire pile in search of a match.

That’s why Clive had retreated to Maine and the relatively talent-driven Broadway scene. They were twice as brutal but only half as impressed by money. But he knew enough raw talent in Hollywood to find another producer, a woman or a minority or a certain biracial woman with a reputation for shredding stupid people and overworking the crew that kept her off most sets. She might do well on a project where the calendar was already so fucked that even the actors were starting to sweat about their reputations and percentages if the film and stage play flopped.

The helpless rage that had driven him to book an agency assistant for the weekend started to fade as he began to plot. He couldn’t afford to buy Robinson out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do a little behind-the-scenes finagling. 

Spirit lost his footing again, and Clive stopped the hot walker. He stood and headed over to the pile of clean cloths, grabbing one before he moved to his stallion’s side. When Clive put a hand on Spirit’s shoulder, the man shivered. The movement made his tail shimmer delightfully. Clive was surprised the man hadn’t used his safe gesture to escape the bondage, even temporarily, but then this was not a beast who gave up easily.

Clive ran the cloth over Spirit’s back, wiping away the sweat and grime that clung to his skin. His hooves were kicking up a lot of dirt, in part because Spirit was dragging the tips rather than lifting them fully. They were heavy, and Clive didn’t fault him for struggling under the weight of the bondage. He clearly wasn’t used to it. But he had to learn better posture.

Whatever he had done in his previous life, it had been physical. He was broad and strong, but not with the highly defined muscles of a body builder. He had the sort of massive strength that came from actually working the body in physical labor over decades. He was a treat. Clive stroked the shoulder muscles even as he kept an eye on Spirit’s feet. Sooner or later, the man’s patience was going to crack, and then he would either signal that he wanted to end the game or he would try his best to kick Clive to death. Clive made a living putting people together and knowing how they would work in a project. He would put money on this one going for physical violence. 

If Clive wasn’t careful, he was going to end up taking an ER trip to have stitches in his shin from a good swift kick. That made the game even better. When Clive moved to the front, he lingered over a long, thread-thin scar on Spirit’s upper arm. He had worked for a living—Clive knew that. 

Spirit jerked his head, fighting the reins, and Clive pressed his palm against the center of his chest. When Spirit thrust his head forward, Clive pulled back before he could get a nasty bite on the back of his hand. “You are feeling your oats today, my boy,” Clive said as he slapped Spirit on the hip. “I think you need more exercise. 

This time Spirit answered by stomping his foot down exactly where Clive’s toes had been seconds earlier. Clive laughed and gave Spirit’s tail a little yank. Spirit screamed into his bit and kicked wildly, but Clive danced backward, out of the horse’s reach. Despite his fury, he didn’t signal to get free and his cock bobbed merrily in front of him. Clive held up the remote where Spirit could see it before he pressed the button to start the machine. 

With another scream of frustration, Spirit started walking, and Clive increased the speed. Now Spirit had to trot, and his tail swung, curling around as it slapped against the back of his thighs. Clive walked to the inside of the path. It gave him a better view of Spirit as he trotted past. He was still dragging his toes. The stubborn stallion was going to trip himself doing that. 

Clive slowed the hot-walker and then headed over to retrieve a riding quirt with a narrow popper. It would provide a nice sting without doing too much damage to Spirit’s skin. As Clive came back, Spirit was walking toward him, his eyes closed. Of course if he opened his eyes, the blinders and reins ensured that he could only see his own body and a few feet in front of him. The booker at the agency insisted that this assistant had only worked for women, so Clive had to wonder how Spirit felt about his own physical reaction. Maybe he didn’t want such clear evidence that some part of him was enjoying this as much as Clive.

And that made it sweeter. Clive didn’t know if Spirit’s physical enjoyment or his clear psychological struggles contributed the most to Clive’s own pleasure, but he had not enjoyed a game this much since he had first started figuring out his kinks.

“Knees up,” Clive ordered. Unsurprisingly, Spirit ignored him, so Clive brought the quirt down on the swell of his ass. The popper slapped loudly against his hot skin, and Spirit lunged forward. “Knees up,” Clive said again, this time punctuating the command with a slap to the back of Spirit’s leg, just above the boot. 

Spirit shivered, but he lifted his leg high enough that the toe of the horseshoe didn’t drag in the dust. And he then ruined it by dragging his right foot. This was the sort of problem Clive could solve easily. Clive started pacing Spirit, walking along the inside of the circle the hot walker forced him to travel. Slapping the back of Spirit’s legs forced him to pick his feet up. “Good boy,” Clive praised him. He patted Spirit’s shoulder before stopping the machinery. 

Spirit stopped, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. Clive unhooked Spirit’s reins to give him more freedom over his head. Spirit threw his head up so he was looking at the ceiling, but then he went utterly still. Perhaps the man had figured out how horse-like his earlier gestured had been. He slowly lowered his head and then deliberately stretched his neck to the right and then the left. And then he glared at Clive.

“My beautiful Spirit found something he liked.” Clive grabbed Spirit’s cock. Spirit groaned and tensed up.

“Not broken yet? Oh my beautiful stallion is being stubborn.” Clive gave John’s tail a hard tug, forcing the plug into his prostate. Spirit rocked forward and made an inarticulate cry. And his cock got harder. Maybe Spirit had never been with a man before, but his heterosexuality was highly suspect. Then again, he wouldn’t be the first man to discover his own bisexuality late in life. When Clive stepped back, a small whine slipped out of Spirit. 

The sound travelled straight to Clive’s dick. “Such a good boy.” 

Clive headed for the table and retrieved a water bottle he’d left earlier. Hooking the quirt onto his belt, he returned to his stallion and held the bottle up. Spirit strained forward. “I bet my beauty is thirsty, isn’t he?” Clive teased. The way Spirit flinched made it clear that he was uncomfortable with praise, but his cock didn’t soften. Clive cupped his hand and held it under Spirit’s nose before pouring water into it. Clive half expected Spirit to bite him. It was the animal’s first chance to do real damage; instead Spirit stared at him with horror. 

The water slipped between Clive’s fingers and dribbled onto the hard-packed earthen floor. Clive raised an eyebrow, wondering just how far Spirit’s stubbornness would take him. The man had to be thirsty, and Clive didn’t want him to physically suffer. However, gentle breaking required this proud stallion to look to his master for sustenance.

Clive had more emails to answer, but he gave Spirit one more chance. He poured more water into his hand. Despite his assumption that Spirit would dig in his metaphorical heels, after a brief hesitation, he leaned forward. Still expecting to be bit, Clive tensed and prepared to jerk away, but Spirit just sucked up the water. The man was a fount of endless surprises. Clive poured more water into his palm and moaned when Spirit pressed his face to Clive’s hand, his lips slurping at the liquid and tickling Clive’s palm.

In the stall, there was a calf suckling bottle filled with water. That’s where Clive had intended for Spirit to get most of his water. However, the sight of that strong neck bending to drink from his hand, the straining arms chained to the hot walker and the soft lips against his palm—they were an intoxicant. A handful at a time, Clive gave his stallion the whole bottle, and by the time Spirit licked up the last of it, Clive was pretty sure he was cross-eyed with lust. He had never wanted someone so much.

The sun was low enough to come through the west windows as Clive put the cap back on the bottle and set it down on the ground. Spirit eyed him distrustfully, and whatever truce Clive had earned by offering water was clearly over. Perfect.

As he freed one of Spirit’s arms, the man glared murder at him. Clive kept his toes out of the immediate danger zone and pulled Spirit’s left arm behind him. He clipped the wrist restraint to the notch six or seven inches to the left of Spirit’s spine. It was the loosest of all the holes, but Clive suspected that Spirit wouldn’t be able to take a more severe restraint. Even now, his muscles trembled. It would make it easier to tame him to touch, but Clive didn’t want to drive the spirit out of his stallion.

When Clive stepped back, Spirit pulled against the new binding. He had some movement in his arm and could stretch his elbow away from his body, but he definitely couldn’t free himself. Spirit swung his head around and gave Clive a narrow-eyed glare that would have stripped the paint off a barn. The bit in his mouth and the straps around his head only made him look fiercer and more dangerous. He was not anywhere near tame. 

Clive moved more carefully as he unchained Spirit’s right arm. If he was going to attack, now would be the time. Spirit shifted, and Clive grabbed the harness. He could put Spirit down on the ground with a sweeping kick, but he waited to see if common sense would stop Spirit. After a second, Spirit snorted loudly, and Clive took that as resignation. He quickly fastened the second arm. Now Spirit was truly helpless.

“Let’s get you fed before we start your real workout,” Clive said. He pulled the reins around to the front and Spirit out of the exercise barn and back toward the stable. The night was starting to cool which was nice, but Clive slapped at a mosquito. 

“Pesky things,” Clive complained. He looked over and several had landed on Spirit. That wasn’t healthy for an animal, and Clive certainly did take pride in caring for his beasts. He took Spirit to the stable door and looped the reins through a hook on the wall. Just inside the door, he grabbed the flogger he had set out earlier. At the time, he hadn’t known if he would want to use it, but Spirit deserved extra attention.

So Clive took his favorite oil-rubbed leather flogger and started to gently whisk the mosquitos away with gentle slaps against Spirit’s shoulders. The flogger was Clive’s favorite, and it left a spiderweb of marks against Spirit’s pale skin as Clive worked. Spirit gave Clive an unhappy look before he focused his gaze on the knotted reins. Clive worked down Spirit’s back, watching at the stallion twitched and pulled against the reins. His cock grew steadily larger and redder, even as Clive finished the warm up and started applying a little more heat to each strike.

The flogger had a hell of a sting, and now Spirit was dancing at the end of his reins. Clive worked Spirit’s ass, changing the angle so the ephemeral strike marks created a complex lattice pattern. The backs of Spirit’s legs had already taken a number of strikes, so Clive took a lighter approach, leaving behind only pale stripes that vanished almost immediately. Spirit moaned. 

“You like having those bloodsuckers off you, don’t you?” Clive asked although he knew full well that Spirit was developing a taste for whip work. Many beasts did. Most took longer to reach the realization, though. They had to learn to focus through the pain and find the pleasure in the heat and the complex dance of sting and stroke in a carefully applied whip. However pain did not seem to be a problem for Spirit.

Clive patted Spirit’s arm and moved to the door to swap out tools. Spirit rested his head against the side of the stable and breathed hard, his whole chest heaving. When Clive came back with a suede flogger, Spirit didn’t react. Clive caught the chest strap and pulled Spirit away from the wall. “Let’s get all of them off that beautiful body of yours.” Clive slapped the suede tails against the front of Spirit’s thighs. The man shivered so hard that his tack jangled. Clive struck harder, swinging the flogger until it came to rest on Clive’s left shoulder. Then Clive immediately brought it back across, catching Spirit on the hip. A few strands hit Spirit’s cock. 

Spirit lunged forward and nearly lost his balance. Clive caught his arm and held it until the stallion could steady himself, but Spirit was so hard that this cock leaked pre-cum. That was only fair because Clive was hard and aching and in danger of coming in his pants before he could make use out of his beautiful boy. 

“That’s my Spirit,” Clive said in a soothing voice. He wasn’t surprised when Spirit snapped his teeth against the bit and tried to lunge a Clive.

“Play nice, Spirit. There are benefits to being a domesticated horse.” Clive brought the soft flogger down on Spirit’s cock and balls, careful to keep his swing slow. Spirit groaned. He clearly liked the whip more than he liked being praised for being a good animal. Clive needed to take his time with this one so he never associated flogging with true pain. Spirit’s reactions were too special to spoil with bad training.

“I know a game we can play.” Clive gave his stallion a brilliant smile and untied the reins. It was time to show his stubborn boy how much fun a whip could be.

Clive led Spirit to the main center aisle. At one point, race horses spent summers in the stables, and the place was designed for the security and comfort of multimillion dollar animals. The main aisle was wide enough to drive a car through. Clive fed each of the reins under Spirit’s arms and pulled firmly. Without fighting, Spirit lowered his head so his neck curved beautifully. So many men earned muscles in the gym where they became muscle bound, but Spirit had the flexibility of a much more slender man. And the fact that Clive could make this man bow his head, even when Spirit was taller and much more powerful—it was an aphrodisiac.

Clive attached the reins at the base of the tail. If Spirit pulled his head up, the back end of the dildo would pull up, pushing the tip of it down into the prostate. Spirit was a clever boy—he’d figure it out on his own. After giving several good tugs on the tail to make sure the reins were secure, Clive stood.

Spirit still wore his blinders, but he turned to get Clive in his sights. There was no trust in that dark gaze, but Clive had time for that. “So beautiful. So let’s see how my wild stallion likes a little taming.” Clive brought the soft flogger down on Spirit’s cock. Spirit shied away, his head coming up, which forced his mouth open. It away forced the plug deeper into his body. Spirit gave a strangled cry and stumbled to the side. 

Clive leaped forward and caught his harness, holding on until he was sure Spirit was stead on his feet. Then Clive let go and brought the flogger down on Spirit’s hip. After the oil-rubbed leather, the suede couldn’t be more than a tickle, but Spirit danced away like the strong-willed stallion he was. The whole time, Spirit kept his head low, and Clive followed, bringing the flogger down on Spirit’s other hip. 

Instead of running or stumbling away, Spirit went still. He widened his stance and panted as Clive circled him. He had some game in his head. Clive circled, and Spirit tilted his head slightly, but other than that, he was perfectly still, his hard cock and heavy balls hanging. As Clive watched, a drop of pre cum slipped free and dropped onto the concrete floor. 

Clive walked to Spirit’s back and brought the flogger down on the inside of his thigh so the ends would curl up to tease his balls with a small, stinging kiss. Spirit lunged forward and then whirled. Clive moved quickly to stay at Spirit’s back and brought the flogger down on the back of Spirit’s thighs.

The flogger’s soft falls tangled in Spirit’s tail so that when Clive pulled back, he gave the tail a strong yank. John danced sidewise, moving again to get Clive in his sights. The power in that body was enough that Clive had to grab his crotch and adjust himself, and now Spirit was squared off against him, watching Clive. He could. Clive had no false modesty. While he wasn’t endowed as well as some of his hired animals, he had nothing to hide. He unzipped his dress pants and reached into shift his hard cock.

Spirit backed up a step, putting his back to one of the stall doors. Clive zipped up.

“You know you need the bridle and whip, don’t you?” Clive moved carefully. Now was the time for his beauty to either tap out or attack. “All wild animals do better with a little taming.” Clive slapped the flogger against his own leg and Spirit let out a string mumbled gibberish. He tried to lift his head and the u-brackets pulled at his cheeks and the bit forced his mouth open.

“Go on. Fight,” Clive said.

Sure enough, Spirit kicked out. The shock and lust on his face was almost comical. The plug had clearly hit a sweet spot. Clive landed the flogger right on Spirit’s cock and balls before he danced back out of the reach of those dangerous horse shoes. 

Spirit tucked his chin to his chest and charged. The brute force caught Clive off guard and Spirit slammed him into another stall door. But despite Spirit’s size and strength, bondage was the great equalizer. Clive caught Spirit’s reins and pulled hard. The bit forced Spirit’s mouth wide open and from the inarticulate scream, the plug hit that sweet spot again. If Spirit hadn’t made friends with his prostate before, he definitely would now.

In fact, instead of backing off, Spirit pressed himself against Clive, humping Clive’s leg and wiping body fluids across Clive’s virgin wool suit pants. The heat of Spirit’s body came close to stealing Clive’s control, and for one second he wanted to hump back, to turn this into a wild and inelegant encounter against the wall. However, that was not what Clive had purchased.

Clive cruelly twisted Spirit’s nipple, and he skittered away. The distraction allowed Clive to clip another lead to the ring where the reins attached. Spirit shook his head, and Clive quickly attached a long pole. He’d developed the system after watching an animal control officer catch a stray dog, and the pole was equally effective at keeping a stallion under control. Clive chuckled. It had been a long time since he’d had to use it.

“Just like a stallion to think he can do the mounting. Let me assure you, Spirit, you are here to be mounted, not the other way around.” Clive kept his tone firm. “I am going to break you, so fighting is only making this more difficult.” Again, Clive waited for the three foot stamps that would signal that John had taken as much as he could, but Spirit just glared defiantly. Heaven. Clive had found heaven. And now he was going to fuck it.

Chapter 5: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-15919034 

Chapter 6: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16207252 

Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16538533 

Chapter 8: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16939268 

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17047062 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17637933 

Chapter 11: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18483089 

Chapter 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18786045 

Chapter 13 and 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapters-18974026 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19132781 

Chapter 16: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19490176 

Chapter 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19634666