The vinyl of the stool squeaked against the soft leather of my pants as I sat and watched the process of my newest acquisition regaining consciousness. The first few hours were both critical and highly amusing.
And generally predictable. As an avid student of psychology I recognized that the new ones always followed the Kubler-Ross Model known as the "Five stages of grief".
1. Denial and Isolation. 2. Anger. 3. Bargaining. 4. Depression. And finally, 5. Acceptance.
We would typically be going through those stages several times in the next couple of days.
If I had wanted my life to be simple and easy, I would have found a way to skip the first four stages and go straight to acceptance.
But that wouldn't be anywhere near as fun.
I knew places where I could have purchased them already broken and trained, even willing and eager. All willing participants who had volunteered for this life.
In the beginning, that was how I had gotten my start.
But like I said, it wasn't anywhere near as fun.
I could tell by the slight changes in his breathing and the little involuntary twitches in his arms and legs that he was slowly coming around. He lay on his side on the warm hardwood floor, chains from his shackles spread out around him.
I often wonder if they appreciated the expense I went to in order to make them comfortable. It took me years to renovate the old barn; closing in all of the gaps in the outside walls, adding insulation, heat and air conditioning, installing almost five hundred square feet of temperature controlling pipes under the hardwood floor that kept them cool in the summer and warm in the winter. And all of the damned plumbing.
Not to mention the hours of sanding and varnishing to make everything smooth and splinter-free.
Real horse owners had it dead easy if you asked me.
He was in cage number four of the six I had built. Originally I had thought to put in twelve, but I had reconsidered before my greed got the best of me. If I had wanted to be a serious trainer, selling my stock to those who wanted such things, I had room to put in dozens of them. But that would require lots of work and hired hands and keeping records and all of that.
Sure, I could have made piles of money, but I didn't need it. I already had piles of money. Most of the stock for sale, if they were young and healthy and pretty enough, sold for hundreds of thousands each. I had spent nearly a quarter of a million for my first two and, after four years of hard training, sold them both as champion breeders for half a million. I briefly considered making it a business but, as I said, I didn't need the money.
I just wanted them for my own personal use. That was fulfilling enough. After all, there were only so many hours in the day.
I could hear soft sounds and the clink of chains moving across the floor in the other three cages. They all had their curtains drawn and, even though they were curious about the new acquisition, they all knew better than to reach through the bars and touch the curtains. Early on in training, I always instilled a healthy fear of the crop and the whip and even though they knew I would not mark them permanently, I knew ways of driving a lesson home so it would not be forgotten quickly.
"Sarabeth" I said quietly. There was a quick intake of breath down the hall and a soft voice spoke. "Yes, Master?" I glanced at the first cage. There was a whisper of motion against the curtain and I could picture her on her knees, hands gripping the bars with her face pressed between them, straining for sounds.
"Are you dressed, dear?" It was a rhetorical and somewhat trick question. My pets were never allowed to be dressed in any way without permission.
"Soft shoes and the leash, my love. I will be needing you soon." As an afterthought I added "And a tight braid, love. Take your time and make yourself beautiful for me."
I scrolled through the touchscreen of my remote and opened the closet in Sarabeth's cage for her. She was my first solo acquisition and my most loyal and highly trained pet. I suspect at this point if I opened the cage and offered her freedom she would have closed the cage door herself and cried.
A quiet moan caught my attention and I saw my newest moving his head back and forth, trying to come awake.
Good. It wouldn't be much longer now.
It had been so easy, like they all were. It always amazed me how supposedly intelligent creatures could find themselves trapped so easily. And how careless society was with it's members. So many of them were never missed at all.
I had ranged around for a couple of hundred miles to the agrarian communities here and in the neighboring state and placed a simple want ad in some of the local trade newspapers:
"Wanted: Live-in stable hand for show horse ranch. Must be young and fit, willing to be trained and work hard. Some travel involved. Excellent compensation and benefits. No experience necessary."
All replies went to an anonymous post office box in a place that gave 24 hour access to the boxes and, more importantly, had no video surveillance. I, of course, paid for the box in cash, as I had the want ad. That was only one of over a dozen things I had going at the moment, looking for new stock.
I had gotten maybe a dozen replies to the ad and spent a week driving from place to place doing interviews. It was almost disinheartening. Too young, too old, married and wanting to bring his wife along, etc. Part of me wanted to give it up as a bad idea but I had learned patience.
Number ten proved to be the charm. I met Daniel at a roadside truck stop near where he was living. He'd been working as a dishwasher at the truck stop for a couple of weeks and living in a friends camper down the road. He had been orphaned young and lived in a series of foster homes all over the state before growing too old and "aging out" of the system. He had finished high school and had actually started a nursing program at one of the local community colleges, which surprised me.
But luckily for me, he had run out of money and grants before he could finish the program and decided to take a year or two off to work and raise more money.
"Besides," he said "I was getting tired of being around all of these people all of the time. I always thought I'd like to work on a ranch with horses." Daniel paused and his eyes went soft and kind of misty for a moment. "When I was little," he said "I used to wish I was a horse. I'd see them on teevee and think 'Man! To be able to run like that would be awesome!' And I'd go outside and pretend I was a horse for hours." He smiled and shook his head. "I know it's a silly kids fantasy, but that was a dream of mine for many years."
A light went on in my head. Could he possibly be more perfect?
Add that to the fact that he was really cute and I figured the deal was sealed right then and there. Daniel had dark brown hair, cut fairly short and soft brown eyes that almost made me melt inside. He was small, only about five foot three and was pretty well built. He looked a few years younger than his twenty two years. I got him to roll up his sleeve and show me his bicep with the pretense that I thought he might be too small to handle my workload. That got his dander up just a little bit and gave me a glimpse at his spirit. Also, it gave me a good idea which handle I could grab to make him go the direction I wanted him to. Being small gave him a fragile ego that could be tweaked and used to manipulate him.
I was such a bastard sometimes.
He was young and pretty and muscular and intelligent and I decided right then and there that I had to have him.
I reached across the table and shook his hand and said "Well young man, it looks like I might just have a place for you in my stable.. How long do you need to pack and say your good-bye's and when can you leave?"
He smiled at me and said "If you can drive me down the road, I can be packed and out in ten minutes. There's not anybody here I really need to say goodbye to, if you know what I mean."
Oh yes. Perfect in every way.
It was about a four hour trip back to my place. We spent a lot of the time making small talk and listening to country music on the radio. I didn't really much care for country music, but I figured as he thought I was an actual ranch owner I might as well go along with the façade.
About fifteen minutes out from my place I pulled over to the side and off onto a little dirt road that I knew was always deserted under the pretense of "checking on something". In a little wooded patch I pointed to a spot outside the passenger window and when Daniel turned his head, I pressed the auto injector against his upper arm and pushed the button.
It's an amazing little device, designed at first with diabetics in mind, that uses compressed air to blow medication directly through the skin without a needle. Mine was loaded with a mixture first designed by somebody in Langley, Virginia for use on enemy agents and other foreign nationals. It's a combination of two different drugs, neither of which I will name here. The first is a powerful and fast acting sedative that will render the subject unconscious in seconds. The second drug is an equally powerful aphrodisiac that works in a time release and lasts about three days.
I paid some government office clerk who was down on his luck twenty thousand dollars for the recipe. It would have been cheap at twice the price.
When I hit him with the injector, Daniel had just about enough time to jump and grab his arm and say "Hey, what are you......" before his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped over on the seat, sound asleep. I unbuckled his seat belt and slid him to the floor board of the truck and covered him over with the horse blanket I had stashed behind the seat.
Then I turned the truck around and headed for home, a happy and contented smile on my face.
If a stranger drove into my driveway he would follow the road for about a quarter of a mile before encountering the gate, with the ten foot fence stretching off in either direction into the woods. You can see nothing of the house or other buildings from the gate. All you can see is a little call box and a video camera. As you can guess, I screen my visitors fairly rigorously.
Another half mile past the gate and the house and grounds come into view. At first glance it appears to be just a regular horse farm. A large barn, corral, paddock and a small oval quarter mile track laid out in the soft earth. Another large barn-like building was an indoor arena for use in bad weather. Equipment scattered here and there.. trailers and tractors, a little 4-wheeled ATV... everything you would expect to see.
Except any actual horses, of course.
The house is set into the hillside. It mostly looks like a large log cabin type house, like one of those you can buy from a kit or have the Amish build for you. And for the most part, it is exactly what it seems to be. A little bigger and more lavish than your typical farmhouse, more like a rich man's hunting lodge or something. Which is what it was, for the most part.
I pulled up to the door of the barn and went inside. I knew that the newest would be out for about six more hours so I had plenty of time. I checked on all of my prizes one by one to make sure they were all right and where I left them.
Cage #1: Sarabeth. 23. My first capture. Small, blonde and willowy with small pert breasts and a slim waist. I had taken her on a whim five years ago after picking her up hitch hiking. I had been carrying the new auto injector in my truck for a year waiting for the right moment to try it out. It was wonderful. Sarabeth was a natural born submissive, willing to go to any lengths to please a dominant man. If I weren't greedy I could have been well satisfied with only her in my stable. She was a perfect pony, athletic and graceful with a dancers body and an innate sense of balance. Under other circumstances, Sarabeth could have been a ballerina or a star on Broadway.
Cage #2: Nathan. A mere 20 years old. My first male acquisition. Like all of my stock he was small in frame, a mere five foot five. The tallest of my collection so far. Black hair and dark eyes, slightly olive skinned, just enough to seem exotic. I had met him at an internet café three years ago after chatting awhile over the net. He had been despondent after breaking up with his girlfriend and was hinting at suicide. I met up with him in person under the pretense that I could "give him something worth living for". Training him had been challenging but now he was a registered champion. Not six months ago I had been offered three quarters of a million dollars for him by an overly large British woman of nobility. I declined her offer and when I mentioned it to Nathan he threw himself at my feet, clutched my ankle and begged me not to sell him. I think that was the final phase of his total conversion. The transformation from skinny underfed computer geek to finely toned racing champion was now complete.
Cage #3: Gael. Also 22. Pronounced just like our "Gail", she was actually from Ireland. A foreign exchange student who had been living with an American couple in New York and doing nanny work while she went to art school. She was five two and broader in the frame than the other two with wide hips and small breasts that barely protruded from her chest. She was pale and redheaded and covered with freckles. While taking a summer to see the country by bus, she had wandered into one of our convention areas by accident nine months ago. It was mere happenstance that I had noticed her first and managed to distract her long enough to turn her away from the sales floor before she saw too much. At first I only meant to turn her away, but when a perfect opportunity presents itself, what can you do? At this point she was still a work in progress but showing much promise. Her pert little fanny still showed the fading wide red stripes of our last training session. The combination of red hair and that famed fiery Irish temper had proved to be a challenge.
Once I was sure all of my stock was in good shape I closed the curtains on their cages and announced that it was "Quiet Time". They all knew that it meant that they were to keep any noise to a minimum and speak only when spoken to. None of them wanted to spend the next few hours with a ball gag between their teeth.
I returned to the truck with a small wheeled cart. It had big bouncy tires for going over rough terrain and the perfect size for hauling a body. I'm all about not straining my back. It was pretty easy to get Daniel out of the floorboard and into the cart. I piled his backpack full of clothes on top of him and wheeled the whole thing into the barn. His personal effects would go into a locker with all the rest of them.
In cage number four I laid him on the floor and methodically stripped Daniels clothes off and piled them with his pack. When he was naked I stood there for a moment and just admired the view. Daniel had obviously worked hard and kept himself in good shape. He was finely muscled. I'm sure if he was awake and not so completely relaxed I would be able to see the washboard pattern in his abs. His body was mostly smooth but he had a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair surrounding his prick, which stood up tall and hard, thanks to the second drug in my special cocktail. His prick was larger than I would have suspected from his size, about seven inches long and quite thick. I couldn't resist kneeling down and taking it in my hand, stroking it just a little bit. Despite his drugged state, Daniel moaned softly and rolled his hips at my touch.
I'm sure Daniel had been quite popular with the ladies. I could think of at least four other people who would greatly appreciate that sweet body and fine cock in the near future.
And who knows? Maybe some day hundreds of people would get to appreciate it in the arena. The future was full of possibilities.
Putting my musings aside, I went and got my medical kit and slipped on a pair of sterile gloves. I drew a tourniquet around his upper arm and quickly drew three vials of blood and set them side. Then I rolled him on his side and, after cleaning the back of his neck with alcohol, I applied a topical anesthetic and laid out my tattoo template. My little battery operated gun worked just like it always did and I quickly inked the stylized "MxR" that was my mark on the back of his neck.
That was part of the ritual for me. Now he was marked for the rest of his life as being mine. I knew some owners that used actual brands. In my opinion they were ugly and barbaric. Necessary pain was one thing, as it was all part of training. Unnecessary pain was just plain sadism and I wasn't into that.
I pulled out another injector that had a short large bore needle. I poked it underneath the top layers of skin right below that tattoo and pulled the trigger. The device implanted a small microchip so I could track my stock wherever they were. Just another app I had on my handy little remote. It pays to think ahead, sometimes.
I put ointment on the fresh tattoo and covered it and the mark on his arm with a bandage. The vials of blood went into an envelope and I would drop them off in town with a certain lab tech who owed me many many favors. He would run a complete workup and let me know if there were any problems I needed to address. He didn't know and didn't want to know where the blood came from.
I cleaned up my kit and put things away, discarding the needles in a safe container.
Then I returned to the cage and pulled down the shackles from the ceiling and locked them securely around his wrists. Another set secured to the floor went around his ankles. Finally, I pulled a soft leather blindfold over his eyes. He could pull it off when he awoke if I let him get his hands that close to his face. If he decided to be cooperative, I could be generous.
I stepped back and admired the view one more time, then closed and locked the cage. I pulled the curtain shut and stepped back.
"Nathan" I said.
"It's nap time."
I could almost hear him shiver with anticipation.
I actually managed to nap for about three hours. That was about my limit. I don't think I had slept for more than three or four hours at a stretch in the last ten years. It was just a quirk of mine.
I roused Nathan from his exhausted sleep and directed him to get himself cleaned up and change the sheets on my bed. He went shakily into the bathroom to rid himself of all of the come I had pumped into his tight willing ass.
Before I had taken him, Nathan had never had sex with a man before. He fought it for quite some time. But I suspect he had been harboring some suppressed tendencies, as we had found out that he was multi-orgasmic when being fucked. It wasn't until the third time that I took him that he finally admitted to himself and me what was self evident to me from the first time. He loved being fucked long and hard in the ass.
I was more than happy to oblige him when the mood struck me. I could be generous like that.
I stepped into the shower and started to lather up and get clean. Nathan scurried off to get the sheets changed as quickly as possible. I knew that he would want to join me so I deliberately took my time. Sure enough, after a few minutes I looked back and could see him kneeling by the shower door, looking like a lost puppy.
I cracked the door open and said "Was there something you wanted?"
He looked up at me with those big dark eyes and said "Please, Master?"
I hesitated for a few seconds, as if weighing the decision in my mind, the opened the door wider and said "Come join me, Nathan."
He said "Thank you, Master!" and dove through the door and into my arms.