Saddled, chapter 30 (Patreon)

John pulled at the tack to shift it on his shoulder. Clive led him toward the hot walker, and John knew if they reached that thing, his shoulder would annoy him. So he kicked out at Clive. Clive darted to the side, clearly expecting the attack, but that gave John a few seconds to scratch his shoulder on the corner of one of the stalls.

“You’re frisky this morning,” Clive said in an amused voice. The bit in his mouth prevented John from answering, but he narrowed his eyes. When Clive tapped the crop against his leg, John glanced down and then focused on Clive’s expression again. The bastard was enjoying this. Truth be told, John was too.

“Good boy. Come on.” Davidson cooed as he inched closer. John mouthed the bit, making the bridle jangle and clink. When John continued to scratch his shoulder, ignoring the sweet commands, Clive struck out. He laid the crop against John’s hip hard enough to draw a line of fire. Then he gave the reins a hard jerk.

John feigned stumbling forward, and when Clive reached out to steady him, John brought his horseshoe boot down hard. He landed scant centimeters from Clive’s foot. Damn that man was fast.

Clive laughed. “Oh, Spirit. You are a wild one, but just you wait. I’m going to get you hitched to a cart and you’re going to be the perfect draft animal. Maybe I’ll take you around to a few of the equestrian events and let everyone else see what a wild stallion I have. You can work on breaking their toes.”

While John wasn’t sold on the idea of prancing around in front of anyone else, he was open to thinking about it. He’d found his sexuality was a lot more flexible than he’d thought. With another hard jerk at the reins, Clive forced John to walk.

“Good boy. Come on now.” Clive’s words had the sing-song tone adults used with young children and animals, but that crop continued to slap against Clive’s jeans as a constant warning. The sting of the crop didn’t do any actual damage and the pain was nominal, but now that the heat from the first strike had faded, it left a lingering itch. That was annoying, and John was bound too tightly to scratch. He stamped a foot and that settled the itch a little.

They headed into the exercise barn, and a lead dangled from the hot walker. The day was so nice that John would prefer to be harnessed to a cart and taken outside, but he didn’t get a choice. This was Clive’s game, one John still intended to win. At least this time, John could enjoy the breeze that came in through the large open doors and he got to walk a larger circle. The lead hung from one of the outer tracks on the hot walker.

When they reached the lead, Clive unhooked one of John’s arms from the body harness and clipped it in place. John waited. As Clive finished clipping the second arm to the hot walker, John surged forward. Trusting the equipment to hold his weight, he kicked out with both feet. Clive threw himself back away from the danger, but not fast enough. Both John’s boots connected, propelling Clive back into the dust.

John smiled as best he could with the bit in his mouth.

Clive slowly stood and brushed the dust off. “You are a spirited stallion. But don’t you worry. I know how to break an animal.” Clive walked over to the bench and picked up the remote. The straps pulled tight, pulling John’s arms up until his body was taut.

“Is my beautiful Spirit going to kick now?” Clive asked in an annoyingly cheerful voice as he walked behind John. That was fine. John had still earned his point.

While John expected Clive to use the crop or the short whip, Clive stroked John’s shoulders. “What a beautiful animal you are,” he whispered before he reached around John, tugging at the various leather straps and buckles John wore. A whisper of worry teased the back of John’s brain when Clive tugged at one of John’s nipples. This was not the counter offensive John had expected.

Then Clive gave John’s tail a hard pull, and the plug pressed against John’s prostate. John screamed as his whole body tightened, but the bastard then grabbed John’s hardening cock. With his hands tied so far over his head, John could only rock slightly as Clive pumped his cock. That and a few hard pulls on John’s tail brought him right to the edge of an orgasm, and Clive stopped.

He stepped back and walked around to stand in front of John. “Now, does my boy want to be a good boy? Good little stallions get fucked, and you know what happens then.”

Yeah, John would get to come. However, John wasn’t about to give Clive the satisfaction. Instead, he weakly kicked out. The motion set his tail swaying, and John’s eyes watered as the need to come and the absolute inability to crashed into each other.

“You are such a naughty boy,” Clive said with a laugh as he walked toward one of the benches.  John screamed his frustration. The machinery gave a number of ratchetting clicks, and the tension on the lead eased before it started to pull him forward.

After practicing at Noah’s, John knew how to walk in his boots, but every step was a torment now. If he lifted his knees high, his tail swayed, rocking the large plug in his ass. And his cock was so hard that it bobbed uncomfortably. But if he didn’t lift his knees, he was going to trip on the toes of his boots. Clive was a sadistic bastard because the damn hot walker forced John to fucking tease himself. Even the cool whisper of long tail hairs against the back of his legs fed the fire.

John glared up at the track. He couldn’t do anything else because the reins were hooked to his harness, forcing him to look forward.

John bit down on the plastic bit and focused on finding a pattern that caused the least amount of torment. If he arched his back exactly right, most of the tail swished through the air instead of stroking his legs. If he relaxed his asshole, the plug didn’t press quite as tightly against his prostate. Nothing would fix his raging hard-on, but John hoped a few hours of walking in a circle would bore him out of that. John had finally gotten into a good rhythm when the lead clicked and John had to trot to keep up with the new pace. 

John let out a string of muffled and distorted curses until a line of drool escaped. Every time the circle brought John back around so he faced Clive, the man had his gaze on his laptop, but John wasn’t fooled. The stiffness in his posture suggested Clive was just as turned on and probably suffering more because of the jeans. So the next time John passed Clive and started to walk away, John exaggerated the roll of his hips. That sent his tail swishing up into the air. Let the bastard enjoy that view.

John had completed three rounds of tail swishing circles and the hot walker stopped on his fourth. He was left standing with his back to Clive, so he rocked a little, making sure his tail danced. The movement made his own cock ache with need as the plug shifted, but he was willing to pay that price to torture Clive.

“I’m not sure Spirit is the exact right name for you,” Clive mused. “How about Willful?” He gave a thoughtful hum. “Bedevil? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe we’ll stick with Spirit. You certainly have it in spades.”

John bided his time. Clive loved to touch, and that meant he was going to come close enough to either hip check or stomp on. As much as John wanted sex, and he did, he wanted to win points in their game even more. Despite expecting the touch, John startled when Clive ran a cloth over his back.

Where the spit had dried on his face itched, and John rubbed his face against his arm. The straps stopped him from scratching the worst spots, but Clive came around to the front and began wiping John’s face. He followed the lines of the straps before pressing his fingers under the straps. That pulled the bit deeper into John’s mouth, and John opened it to relieve the pressure. “What a messy boy you are.”

John snorted.

Clive grabbed the reins just under John’s chin and held them so tightly that his knuckles pressed against the underside of John’s chin.  “You are never going to be a safe to love, are you?”

John answered by jerking his head, forcing his own mouth open. Then he stilled and looked right at Clive. After a minute, Clive smiled. “That’s okay. I’m not a big fan of safe.” Clive shortened the strap connecting the bridle to the harness, which forced John to bend his neck. That was definitely a point to Clive. John glared down at his lover and leaned closer, using his height to his advantage.

Clive laughed and tugged at one of John’s nipples before walking behind him and giving him a sharp slap on the ass. John sighed and relaxed his neck. Fighting the straps would only make him sore and cranky. Although a good muscle cramp probably would kill his raging hard on.

The hot walker started again, and John walked with his knees high and his head bent. He had a pretty good idea how he looked, and his face grew warm. 

“If you’re going to pull a cart, you need to be able to navigate the terrain,” Clive said. “I wouldn’t want my pretty boy to fall down and get a boo-boo.”

John came around the far side of the circle and saw Clive had put a number of rods or sticks in his path. John was going to have to step over them carefully or he would end up dangling from the lead. Considering how close Clive had put the sticks, it was going to be a challenge. The hot walker clicked and the lead went slack.

“Giddy up,” Clive sang out, and then he slapped John’s ass with his quirt. John trotted forward, his hard cock bouncing as he had to quickstep through the obstacles Clive had dropped in his path. “Giddy up. Come on boy.” Clive added a second, harder pop of the quirt and John broke into a slow run. Clive walked inside the circle, but with his bridle tied in position, John only caught glimpses of him out of the corner of his eye.

His nose filled with the smell of straw and dust, and he tucked his chin close to his chest so he could close his mouth. After three quarters of the circle, he slowed to a trot again.

“Giddy up,” Clive said before clicking his tongue several times. John ignored him, slowing to a walk. His tail slithered over the backs of his thighs, and John would have paid money to pin Clive in a corner and fuck the life out of him, but all he could do was walk the damn circle.

Clive’s sigh was loud enough to fill the space. “You are a stubborn beast,” he said as he walked away. John kept walking until he cleared the far end of the circle and could see the door, and then he stopped. When Clive walked back into the room with a whip that had a long handle like a fishing rod with a leather tail hanging from the end and a twelve or fourteen inch white tail of some sort handing from the lash end. 

“Giddy up,” Clive ordered firmly as he walked to the center of the arena.

John took a step backward. If this was Clive’s newest toy, he wanted to know what to expect.

“Spirit, I am going to train you to the harness one way or another,” Clive warned in a delighted voice. He flicked the whip out, and it caught John on the small of his back, feeling like a hornet sting. Startled, John yelped. He hadn’t expected the sharp pain.

“Giddy up,” Clive ordered, and he stung John a second time. John started moving, although he kept his gait at a steady walk. Four or five sharp blows caught him on the back of the thighs. “Giddy up, boy. Get moving.” He clicked his tongue again, and John broke into a trot. Now he had another problem. The silky strands of his tail brushed right over the whip marks, intensifying the sting and making shivers travel up his spine. “Giddy up,” Clive called again, and John ran. The pace made it harder to judge a safe way over the obstacles, and he used his arms to pull his body weight up and over one cluster of rods.

That earned him another set of three sharp pops of the whip. “You won’t have the hot walker on the trail. Carry your own weight.” John breathed heavily through his nose, annoyed when it started to drip because of all the dust he was kicking up. “Good boy. Good run,” Clive crooned as he let the whip just touch John’s back. John coughed as the dust reached his lungs.

“Whoa,” Clive called, and he put the long whip handle against John’s chest. John happily stopped and coughed again as the dust rose around him. “Good boy. What a good boy you are,” Clive said as he came close.

John half-heartedly stomped a boot in Clive general direction, but he didn’t try too hard. After all, he needed Clive to unhook his bridle from the harness. Clive sidestepped quickly. 

Clive started whistling as he unhooked John’s bridle and started wiping him down. Dust had mixed with John’s sweat so the cloth left long streaks of grayish dirt. Clive worked his way down John’s chest before tugging on the strap that led from the ring around John’s cock and balls to the lowest strap across his stomach. “I bought you a present,” Clive said. “I was hoping I got to use it.”

He pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket and pulled out a silver disk. He held it up, and attached to a short chain was a stylized dog tag. It had a blue stone on one side and “Spirit” was engraved in fancy letters. When Clive turned it around, there was a matching blue stone on the other and the engraving read “Property of Clive Davidson.”

John snorted. He supposed Spirit was Clive’s in a way. John had certainly never known about this kink before Clive. Even if he’d suspected, he never could have afforded it. Playing horse seemed to cost about as much as owning an actual horse. Clive hesitated for a second before reaching up to attach the tag to John’s bridle so it dangled just under his chin. Clive went back to whistling as he checked all the straps around John’s body and tugged on the one that prevented John from pushing the tail out. That pressed the plug into John’s prostate, and he kicked backward with a little more determination. He still missed.

“Such a stubborn animal,” Clive said. He reached up to check the bridle straps, and before John knew what he was doing, he had closed both blinders. John couldn’t see the slightest sliver of light. He shivered at the sudden feeling of helplessness. He then snorted in disgust at his own reaction. He was harnessed, bridled, bound and plugged. He was already utterly fucking helpless.

“Good boy. Good Spirit,” Clive said as he ran his fingers through John’s hair. John tilted his head in Clive’s direction, but he couldn’t do much else, not when he couldn’t see. “For a wild stallion, you take to the harness so beautifully.” Normally John hated it when partners called him beautiful or handsome, but he couldn’t protest. He did stamp his foot as hard as he could. Clive stilled. The idiot probably was watching to see if John was going to use his safe gesture.

When John did, Clive gave his tail a hard tug. John’s cock was so hard it was going to break, and Clive still showed no interest in bending him over and fucking him. The man had the patience of a truly annoying saint. Then the bastard had the nerve to grab John’s cock. “My beautiful Spirit,” he said as he held it tightly. John whined and thrust forward, but Clive laughed and released him. 

John felt cool water against his lips. “Drink,” Clive ordered him. John remembered his horror when Clive had first forced him to drink out of his hand. Now John understood it as one more tactic in Clive’s war—no different from forcing John to eat and drink from oversized baby bottles. Either he had a seriously kinky supplier, or those were nursing bottles for large animals. However, John refused to give Clive the satisfaction of reacting. Water was water. So he leaned forward and slurped the water. Because he was blindfolded, he slopped as much out of Clive’s hand as he drank, but he got enough to slake his thirst.

Clive unhooked John’s arms and immediately clipped them to the harness so that they were behind his back, but not by much. John had plenty of play in his shoulders. This should have been a perfect time for John to score a few points, but the blinders made him wary. Without the hot walker, he would fall on his face if his boot came down on one of the bamboo rods. Not only would that be painful, but Clive would freak out and end the game right then and there. 

The reins tightened, and John tensed. He wasn’t sure what Clive was up to. “Giddy up,” Clive called, he hadn’t opened John’s blinders. John stood still.

“Walk,” Clive said before clicking his tongue. John was still considering his options when the whip caught him on the swell of his ass. John took a quick step forward.

“Good boy. That’s my beautiful Spirit.” Clive clicked his tongue again. John was chalking this up as a point in Clive’s favor because John was trapped and forced to rely on Clive. He took a few more cautious steps before the bridle pulled to the side. “Gee. Gee, boy.” John knew that was supposed to be either right or left, but he couldn’t quite understand the weird sensation of his bridle tightening. He took a tentative step forward and to the right, which seemed like the direction the bridle was pulling him.

The whip caught him on the side and the left side of his bit pulled tight. “Gee, boy. Gee.” John corrected and took a tighter right turn. “Good boy.” Clive clapped and the delight in his voice annoyed John no end. “Walk.” After giving a heaving sigh that John assumed Clive could see, he started out at a slow walk. He still had to keep his knees up to avoid catching his toes on the ground, but now he had to trust Clive to watch for anything in front of his feet. John knew he was an untrusting bastard, so this was the most difficult task Clive had asked of him yet. However, if he trusted Clive to put his own money and reputation on the line when Robinson threatened him, it seemed stupid to distrust him with something as simple as walking.

“Haw,” Clive called and the bridle straps tightened. John wasn’t sure he could recognize a right from a left pull from touch alone, but he turned left as the voice command suggested. “Good boy!” Clive called. John walked the arena following Clive’s voice. Haw, gee, and whoa were followed by stand, easy, walk on, and trot on. Trotting while blindfolded made John break out in a sweat because he knew those rods littered the ground, but he never brought his boot down on one and Clive’s voice remained steady throughout, so John assumed he never came close.

By the time Clive stopped him and gave him the “stand” command to keep him in place, John’s body had a dozen sting marks from the sharp whip and sweat rolled down his back. If Clive had explained all the commands before going into their play, John could have avoided most of those, but that wouldn’t be playing the game. This time, John was careful to not move either of his feet as long as he was held by the “stand” command. If he’d had his vision and knew Clive was far enough away that he wouldn’t catch John, John would have happily done a jig, but as long as the blinders were closed, Clive had the upper hand. Well, more of an upper hand.

“Is my beautiful boy ready for a treat?” Clive asked.

John distrusted that gleeful tone. Clive pressed on his back, and John tried to take a step forward only to hit his knee on a wall. Clive continued to push, and John leaned forward, not even a little surprised when Clive clipped something to his bridle. John turned his head, and his name pendant brushed across his collar bone.

The first slap of leather startled John, but this wasn’t the stingy, whippy thing that hurt. John recognized the flogger. Shit. John rested his forehead against the wall and groaned as dull slaps covered his ass and thighs. Each warmed his skin and tingles soaked into his flesh, making every nerve come alive. 

Clive continued his infernal whistling as he worked his way down to John’s knees, each strike coming in at a different angle. Then he brought the flogger down on the already sensitive skin, criss crossing John’s flesh. Lock into the dark, John could only focus on the feel—the ache in his bones and the rising lust that made his eyes water. He pulled against the bridle, but he couldn’t escape. He could only endure and twitch and cry out around the bit in his mouth.

Clive’s lightened his touch, and John moaned. He wanted it to stop and he wanted more. He wanted to come, and he relished the feeling of pushing closer and closer to his orgasm without being able to tip over into that moment of perfect release. Clive was the master of heaven and hell, and John was quickly losing the ability to think beyond the moment or care about anything other than his overheated body and the way an individual bead of sweat made his skin sting as it slid across the marks left by the flogger.

By the time Clive stopped, John was gasping for air and pressing his hard cock against the unyielding wood.

A click and a brush of Clive’s hands against John’s chin told him Clive had unhooked him, so he wasn’t surprised when Clive guided him inside. John followed blindly.

“That’s my Spirit,” Clive said in a soothing voice. John would have bit or stomped, but he was too horny and too fucking blind. He could only bite the bit and wait. His tail brushed against the back of his legs, the cool strands teasing the hot whip marks. They walked down the stable center, John’s hoof boots muffled on the padded floor. When John’s shoulder brushed against wood, John knew they were back in the tack room.

“Bend,” Clive ordered, pushing forward on John’s shoulders while he held the stomach strap firmly. John suspected the saddle stand was right in front of him, but he still moved nervously, uncomfortable until he felt the smooth leather under him, and then he let the sturdy piece of furniture hold his weight. Clive moved around, but when John tried to challenge him by standing, Clive delivered a sharp, stinging blow with a whip. John might love the flogger, but the single tail whips were evil things and John sagged again.

“Good boy. Aren’t you my nicely trained stallion?”

John kicked out blindly without connecting. Clive chuckled. “How about my nice untrained but learning to avoid punishment stallion?” 

John snorted. He didn’t mind that as much, but he wasn’t fucking trained. A tightening of the bridle told John that Clive had tied down his head. Clive placed a kiss on John’s shoulder. “Good boy. Good Spirit.”

Then footsteps walked around him. John kicked out again, but again, he encountered only air. “Spread your legs, boy.”

John brought them together. Clive pressed himself tight against John’s ass and leaned over until his weight rested on John’s back. “I’m going to take a whip to you. It will be one you like, or one you don’t,” he whispered in the same tone another might use to whisper sweet words of love. Clive placed another kiss on John’s shoulder. “Your choice, my beautiful stallion.”

Clive stood and from the scuffling sound, quickly backed out of range of John’s feet. “Spread your legs, Spirit. Be a good boy.”

John hesitated a second, but he really did prefer the flogger. He reluctantly spread his legs out, exposing his ass and the base of the plug Clive had locked in there. John tracked the footsteps and considered trying another kick, but then the flogger hit his ass. His body sent pain and pleasure signals so fast that John couldn’t think about anything else. He arched his back and tried to hump the damn saddle, but his cock hung useless while Clive brought the flogger down again. The tail protected the most vulnerable skin, but the leather tails kissed the inside of John’s thighs, making him jump. John gasped for air as he tried to sort all the sensations running through his body. He wasn’t sure what he felt, but his balls throbbed. If he hadn’t come last night, John was almost sure they would have exploded by now.

John strained against the harness, but his arms were locked firmly in place, and his hands trapped within the hot and soft hoof gloves. When Clive pulled up on John’s tail, John screamed and damn near came. “That’s my horny stallion,” Clive said. John kicked backward, missing him. 

Clive pulled the tail plug out of John so fast that the ring of muscle stung as the thicker base came out. “You are so gorgeous, and I know my stallion has been teasing me. That’s just not acceptable.” Without any other warning, Clive drove his cock into John and started pounding him. The plug had teased John, but Clive’s cock filled him and drove him past the ability to form coherent thought. He squirmed, digging his toes into the ground to get better leverage, but he was helpless. 

Clive started grunting, and John knew he was close. Sweat dripped into John’s eyes and the sound of their flesh slapping together seemed to echo. When Clive grabbed John’s neglected cock, John screamed and whited out as his whole body tensed and endorphins rushed through his body, erasing everything except the feeling of Clive filling him. Either the orgasm or hanging with his head lower than his ass left John light headed and floaty as Clive finished and cleaned up.

When Clive came back, he lay across John’s back and let his fingers roam. He stoked John’s shoulder and ran his fingertips over John’s lips to the corner where the bit met the reins. “You make everything more enjoyable,” Clive whispered as if that were a secret. “We’ve been at training all day. We should get you to your stall and let you have some lunch before you have your pasture time.”

With a reluctant sigh, Clive stood. Still blinded and tied down, John could only wait. After a morning of keep his knees high, his thighs were sore and he was looking forward to a quieter afternoon. He just hoped Clive felt generous enough to give John another orgasm because the scent of leather did get John horny. Clive’s presence might help with that too.

Chapter 31: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-21626100 

Chapter 32: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-21733699 

Chapter 33: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-21751005 

Chapter 34: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-21913468 

Chapter 35: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-22204867 

Chapter 36: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-22342250 

Chapter 37: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-22436580 

Chapter 38 (Epilogue): https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-epilogue-22779789