Molly's Story Ch. 04: Equestrienne Dream

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Molly's stories will appear in the BDSM category, while Stephen's better fit under Romance.

"I have another story, but you're not going to like it," Molly announced.

"Why is that?"

"I was thinking about that nasty student in our class two years ago. The one that acted as though she were the only student in the class and never gave anyone else the time of day?"

"I'm afraid I have had more than one student like that."

"She was all over you, like 'ooh Professor, can I carry your books?'"

Stephen laughed at her caricature.

"What was her name? Valerie something?"

"Oh, Valerie. I'd forgotten about her. Probably suppressed the memory. Were you jealous?"

"Of course I was. I wanted to carry your books. I just thought it was too obvious a thing to ask."

"And here I wanted to carry yours. It just wouldn't have been very professional."

"That would have been a sight. Anyway, I wrote a story around Valerie. Not a nice one. Call it catharsis."

Equestrienne Dream

Sergio watched in disgust as Valerie completed her exercise. She had mismanaged her horse, jerking the bit in his mouth pitilessly, and then overused her riding crop when it was slow to comply. Valerie cursed at the horse as she dismounted and threw the reins at the groom.

"I don't ever want to see that horse again. How do you expect me compete in dressage with such a stupid animal."

Sergio let his anger out. "I don't want to let you near that horse again. Or any other. He is well-trained - one of the best - but you wouldn't let him perform. Your signals are exaggerated and erratic, just like you. Your temper does not belong in this school. I ought to break that damned crop across your knee."

Valerie produced her best pout. "Perhaps I have not had enough of your instruction. I will be happy to pay for a private lesson and you can help me train another horse."

Sergio rolled his eyes. He had had far too much of Valerie's flirtations and her spoiled refusal to admit her problems. She had been trying to get him into her bed all spring, claiming she was entranced by his "exotic masculinity." He was glad this was the last lesson this session. "It's not the horse that needs training," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm signing up for the summer," she said.

"Perfect. I am spending the summer in Europe."

"Oh." The stark disappointment in her face made him chuckle inwardly. "Where are you going?"

"I will be teaching a camp in Romania."

"Really, where? I have always wanted to go to Italy."

Hopeless. "You would follow me over there?" I can't even get away from you there?

"It sounds terribly romantic. Please tell me the name of the camp."

Sergio caught his breath. You have too much money, Lady, and no limits. Discretion was the better part of valor and he just walked away.

At home she tried looking up the school. The web site said it was located in a secluded mountainous region of Transylvania.That's funny. I thought he said Europe. Mountains? It must be near Pittsburg. She went to sleep that night imagining herself spending the summer with Sergio in Europe.

Valerie got off the plane in Bucharest and was met by a driver from the school who held up a sign at the airport with her name on it. "It is pleased to welcome you to Romania," he said.

"The airline lost my luggage. Honestly, I will never fly them again. Can you give them delivery instructions?" She thrust the claim stubs at him and he argued for a while with the baggage handlers.

"It's OK. Please to come with me."

He led her to a limousine and held the back door open for her. "Please to get in."

They drove into the countryside in the approaching dusk. She tried to make conversation with him, but all she could get out of him was his broken Italian. He didn't understand when she asked where the Coliseum was. Eventually she gave up and fell asleep from her jet lag and the drone of the car engine. When she awoke, they were in the driveway of a large manor house. The only lights were beside the door.

The driver and led her into the entryway, where they were met by an attractive middle-aged woman wearing a dressing gown. "I am Heidi," she said in a heavy accent. "We must get you to bed and orient you in the morning."

Valerie yawned and did not argue.

Heidi led her up two flights of stairs and unlocked a door into a small dormitory room. She turned a switch in the hallway to light the room. There were two bunk beds. The upper one was occupied by a young woman who pulled a blanket over her face to shut out the light. While Valerie was trying to assess the room, Heidi said, "Get sleep. We start early." Then she closed the door behind her and the light went out. Valerie heard the key turn in the lock.

What the fuck? Is this the best they can do? For all that money I at least expect a private room. It is stifling hot. I can sort it out in the morning. She stripped down to her underwear, lay on the bed, and fell fast asleep.

She was shaken awake by her roommate. "Come, it is after seven. We must go to breakfast." She had a Russian accent. And she was naked. "No time to shower. I am Meadow Rose. I show you. Take off your underwear. Maid will take care of them."

Valerie removed her panties and bra before the words registered. "Has my luggage arrived?"

"Quick. No time. Here is collar." Meadow Rose was fastening something around Valerie's neck. "Let's fix hair." She removed Valerie's earrings and placed them on the chest. Now she was brushing Valerie's long red hair and tying it into a ponytail. Meadow Rose also had a ponytail.

"I don't understand."

"Don't understand. Just follow. No time."

Meadow Rose put on a pair of black high-heeled shoes that strapped around the ankle. "There are yours." She pointed to a similar pair on the floor.

Valerie reached for the shoes she took off last night.

"No, must put on those," Meadow Rose insisted. "Hurry."

Valerie complied reluctantly. Scarcely had she put on her shoes, when the door was opened from the hallway.

"Come." Rose took her arm and led her into the hall. Other girls were emerging from their rooms, all without clothing. Valerie caught sight of Heidi disappearing down the staircase. Rose held Valerie's hand and they joined the line of girls down the steps. None of them spoke. They went one floor down and into a long hall. There was a table set with dishes, and each girl assumed a position behind a chair. Rose pulled her to a chair beside hers, near one end of the table.

Now Valerie had a chance to look at the other girls. There were perhaps 20 of them. They were younger. Probably none was over 25. Valerie was 34 and felt out of place. Most were on the small side, but all were quite attractive, as though they had been hand-picked. 'By invitation.' Of course, they were. All had their hair in high ponytails that bounced as they turned their heads. They wore the same shoes. Each had a leather collar on and it appeared that the collars had a silver plate in front and a ring attached underneath the plate. She felt her own and confirmed it was the same. She looked closely at Rose's collar. The plate read "Meadow Rose," her name. She looked at the girl on the other side, another blond. Her collar read "Sweet Ginger." What strange names.

Rose noticed Valerie studying her plate and looked furtively at Valerie's. Then she giggled. "What does it say?"

"Shhhh."

At that moment, a door opened and Heidi entered, leading three other women. They appeared all in their 40s and quite attractively made up, wearing simple dresses with full, ankle-length skirts. They had gold necklaces that seemed to have name plates on them as well. Heidi's hair was tied into a bun, like the other women's. These women were obviously the matrons in charge of the girls. At their entrance, all of the girls stood at attention with their hands behind their backs and heads slightly bowed. Only Valerie was looking around, her hands on the back of her chair. Heidi took a seat at the head of the table.

Valerie felt a sharp blow across her buttocks that left a sting. She turned her head and was met with a stern look of disapproval from one of the matrons. Heidi excused her: "She arrived last night and hasn't been taught her manners yet. Meadow Rose, you will see to that."

Rose bowed her head. She took Valerie's arm and pulled her down into her chair.

Valerie did her best to assume the pose of the other girls. Her bottom still hurt. She felt like she was in a strange play. Had she been taken to the wrong place by mistake? Was this a boarding school?

"Heidi, what is . . ."

"Silence. You will speak only when spoken to." The matron with the switch in her hand stood menacingly near.

Heidi and the matrons sat down and the girls followed. Another door opened and two serving girls entered carrying trays of food. Coffee, juice, plates of biscuits and serving bowls of porridge were passed along the table and each girl helped herself. The meal passed in silence. The image of a convent passed through her mind. Not a convent - we are all naked. Perhaps a Satanic convent. The thought amused her.

At exactly eight o'clock Heidi stood, followed immediately by the other matrons. This was obviously the signal for the girls to stand and leave. Heidi gestured for Rose and Valerie to remain behind. When the room was empty, she spoke.

"You will train with Rose. Rose has only been here a few days, so you are near the same level."

But I have had four months with Sergio. Valerie opened her mouth to protest, but Heidi pre-empted her. "Silence. You have not been bidden. Rose, take her to the washroom and then to the stable."

She followed Rose to the lavatory and stole a chance to look at her collar in a mirror. She had some difficulty reading the small script backwards. It began with P or R. There were two words, both beginning with P. "P-r-i-." She suddenly blushed. No wonder Rose had giggled. Her school name was Prickly Pear. Was this Sergio's idea of a joke? She would see about that.

Rose was tugging on her arm. Seething, she followed her to the ground floor and into a large courtyard. It was the parade ground, with a circular track and a grandstand at one end. Rose led her across the grass to a wooden barn-like building on the far side.

The inside was much larger than she had expected. A large circular path was defined by a pair of ropes, waist high. In the center was a turnstile. The walls were hung with harnesses and bridles and other gear. Rose led her to a particular stall and they waited. Where are all the horses? Where are my clothes? They don't expect us to ride naked, do they?

After a few moments, a man entered dressed in riding clothes and boots. As he approached, Rose assumed the same submissive posture from the dining hall. Valerie made a half-hearted attempt to do the same.

"A new student?" His accent again was thick. He was about 50, well-groomed and rather sexy to Valerie. "My name is Gregor." He placed the tip of his riding crop under her chin and lifted her head. "Prickly Pear? What is that?" He did not wait for an answer. "Meadow Rose, show Prickly Pear how to put on her harness."

Rose pulled a set of gear from the wall and set it on Pear's shoulders. She fastened a series of straps about her torso. When she was done, Pear's shoulders had been pulled back and her breasts outlined by crisscrossing band of leather. A belt about her waist was cinched tightly. The effect was to make her stand upright, and to lift her breasts. Additional straps passed through her crotch to prevent the harness from creeping up. She fastened a leather cuff about each wrist. Now Rose placed a tall and stiff collar about her neck, followed by a harness about her head. The collar prevented her from bending her neck and made it difficult even to turn it. With her fingers, Rose signaled Pear to open her mouth. Rose had in her hand a hard rubber bit. Pear stepped back. "You can't . . ." but her protest was cut short by a sharp blow of the riding crop to her rear.

The instructor pulled her hands together behind her and attached the cuffs. "Proceed," he said calmly.

Rose placed the bit in her mouth and buckled its strap behind her head and under her ponytail. Other straps joined from the sides of her mouth to the bridge of her nose and up her forehead, enclosing her face in a grid. As a final touch, Rose attached blinders.

Now Rose dressed herself in an identical harness. Gregor tightened all the buckles on both girls so the straps would not chafe and he then attached Rose's wrists behind her back. When he was done, Rose looked a bit like a horse. And so must I, Pear thought, completely bewildered.

He led the girls to the ring. From the turnstile extended a series of rods as far as the walk. Gregor positioned each girl under a rod and attached it to the top of the head harness, Rose a few steps in the lead.

"Now you will practice walking. Keep your head up, face forward." Lift your knees high. He flipped a switch and the turnstile began to rotate. The girls were compelled to walk at the exact pace. "Prickly Pear, synchronize your steps with Meadow Rose. Together. Knees higher. He used his crop to push under Pear's thighs to indicate lifting them." She had to struggle to keep up with the pace.

Pear's outrage at this treatment and her lack of sleep produced a state of confusion; but the necessity of concentrating on the rhythm of the pace, the blinders, and the collar removed distractions and gave her a moment to process. The phrase from the web site came back to her: "Equestrian training emphasizing discipline and dressage." This isn't about horses. What did Sergio do to me? Where is that bastard?

She felt a sharp sting across the top of her thigh. "Focus. Knees up. You must concentrate. Nothing else matters but your form." Those words seem familiar. Yes, my riding lessons.

After what seemed like an endless number of circles, Gregor stopped the turnstile. He shifted each girl to the right to a larger circle. The rods extended with them. Immediately in front of Pear's foot was a wooden board four inches high. Another one lay approximately a foot in front of that, and then another. When he restarted the turnstile, each of Pear's steps had to clear the board to avoid her tripping. Again and again, her toe or heel caught the board when she did not lift her knee high enough, but eventually she was stepping high enough without thinking.

Her indignation gradually gave way to fatigue and pain. How much longer? Where the fuck is Gregor? Is he even here? Since he wasn't in the narrow line of vision between her blinders, she had no idea.

The next exercise placed Rose and Pear together in a yoke attached to their collars. Now they had to move in exact synchrony. First Rose was on the right, on the outside. When they switched places, Pear had to make slightly longer strides.

Pear began to feel she could go on no longer. More and more frequently, Gregor had to revive her concentration with his crop. "You must learn to build stamina and focus. It will come. I make you good show horses."

Finally, he turned off the machine and led them back to the stall where they had started. He freed their wrists and allowed them to remove their gear. Rose showed Pear how to clean the sweat off and cream the leather to keep it soft. "Otherwise it bite you."

They returned to their room briefly to shower and prepare for dinner. This was Pear's first opportunity to look around the room. Her initial impression of its starkness was confirmed. The bunks, two chairs, a vanity with four small drawers, and a mirror. The drawers on one side contained a hairbrush and elastic bands, skin lotion, some cosmetics, and leather polish. A small closet was empty. "My clothes are gone."

"Not needed."

"My carry-on bag."

"They keep for you."

"Who do I speak to?"

Lunch was a repeat of the breakfast experience. The food was healthy and good, but eaten in silence. Afterwards, she and Rose were led off with a few of the other girls for a lesson in etiquette and style. The matron who taught it spoke very much about posture and deference. She was followed by another matron instructing on the proper use of make-up. At least they don't require I move my legs.

When the class was over, she and Rose returned to the dormitory, where they were allowed to mingle with other girls. Very few spoke passable English and conversation was difficult. Pear noticed many were missing. A girl from Austria explained they were in a bedroom class.

"What is that?"

"They teach you to please a man."

Really? That might be interesting. "Why aren't we all there?"

"It is only for girls whose patrons sign them up."

And Sergio didn't sign me up. "Who is your patron?"

"A friend of my father. I don't know him well, yet."

"Why did he send you?"

"My father wanted to please him. So he give me to him."

"He gave you to him?"

"He can't afford to send me to university."

"This man will? Did he adopt you?"

"No. I will be his mistress."

"What do you think of that?"

"I had no choice. I accept."

Pear began to ask other girls how they came to this school and heard very similar stories. The patrons were wealthy, usually older men. The girls expected to become mistresses or courtesans. That is why there were learning discipline, obedience, and skills of appearance, diplomacy, and flirtation. Most were looking forward to taking the bedroom class.

"And is your patron here, she asked a girl from Russia."

"He comes sometimes. Not often. When he is here he sends for me. I sleep with him. That is how I know."

Was Sergio here? Would he 'send for' me? "How do I leave?"

The girl laughed. "We don't leave. We go with our patron when he decides to take us away."

Aside from a light supper, Rose and Pear were excused to their rooms. Pear was delighted to rest her body and promptly fell asleep. The next day and those following were just as grueling. The exercised in the stable or in the yard, practicing stepping until it became automatic. Each day followed the same routine.

The boards were increased in height to 6 inches. They learned to parade in a yoke in circles or in the open, to step together to turn corners. After two weeks they were regularly placed in the harness of a small cart to get used to pulling a load.

At that time, they were introduced to the parlor. Their etiquette class had taught them how to serve and now they put it to use. Their serving costume included an apron that tied about the waist, looking like a short skirt from the front but open in back. The parlor was a lounge for the gentlemen. She assumed they were the patrons, gathering for dinner and drinks. The girls were instructed merely to "be available." They might be asked to pour wine, mop a spill, fetch a drink or whatever the patrons needed. A few were fondled; but Pear had the sense the most served simply as eye candy. It was not that the patrons were not interested in sampling the girls, but that there was a silent prohibition on poaching another patron's mistress.

One evening she saw Sergio at the far end of the lounge. She could not speak or leave her station, could not even wave, so she simply waited for him to notice her. Eventually he did, and stared. She met his eyes and tried to look outraged. He smiled at first, then turned away.

W eeks went by. Pear had stopped thinking about getting out of this and fell into the routine. Gregor told them they were making good progress and she took pride in that. He said they would participate in the next promenade. That would be the occasion to perform. For many girls, this would be a graduation ceremony and they would leave for a new life with their patrons. Rose grew very excited. Her patron had visited her only twice so far.