Pony Named Pleasure

He brought me where the most people were, by the fence beside Sir James stallions. They grew more restive as we came near, the slightly taller one I believe Sir had named Flames actually jerked at his head, earning himself a pull of the lead and the chain pinching his chin as he made to move closer to me. I pranced in place, unused to either of the stallions showing this much spirit or aggression. While we have never been friends I have also never been intimidated by them before. The people-humans seemed amused by his display rather than upset and Sir actually suggested to my Master that we bring me closer, to see how I'd act at 'teasing' Flames. The other - Coal - was lead further from his brother. My master wasn't sure about this it seemed and insisted I not go inside the fence yet. -Yet? But led my trembling body close to the gate as Flames lead was loosened at his Sirs direction and he was allowed to rush to me.

He seemed to want to be right against me and would have pressed his flesh to my own where there not wooden rails between us. I stepped in place high and nervous as he reached his head and neck toward mine with a gentleness that belied his excited body language and nipped my neck where it met my shoulder. I stamped my hoof, then banged it against then fence when I felt my displeasure had not been noted... hoping my Master would lead me away soon. In my heart I wished he would just let me take us home. I am a creature of habit..., from the moment we stepped on the path today has been not-routine and I didn't have to like it.

My nervousness and discomfort was eventually noted and I was allowed to move away from Flames into a small group of people who had mares like myself on leads. Easier at heart I leaned into my Masters strength and tried to follow the rapid conversation.

"Of Course you have right to veto anything - she's all yours after all and if you don't agree to the match -"

"But it really is good form to agree - unless you have a really good reason - it spoils the fun of everyone getting together to make the decisions if someone says " no I don't want to do this."

"-of course but at the end of the day these ponies are private property, you say who does what, and with what, if you own something "

"-but may not get invited back next season-"

"We all have everyone's best interests at heart. Spring season is good fun for all and James puts on such a show, You'll see. Belle and I had such fun last year didn't we pet?" The woman speaking reached over to stroke the side of a very pale elegant pony who stood near her, but held by another groom, much as Sir James stallions where often held by others. Some things I am not meant to understand I think. I focus less on the group and only on my Masters warm voice

"So do we just lunge the mares to show them off? or what is expected?" I saw one of the women nod. "And then we stable the mares look over the stallions and all discuss it over lunch?"

There was amusement in his voice. Something that made my Master happy couldn't be bad, surely.

Not long later our host clapped his hands - startling a couple of the mares near me, but as my head was resting on Masters shoulder all was right with my world and I didn't care about the loud sound. Master was stroking me under the chin in my favorite way and I was half dozing in the weak springtime warmth.

Sir James called for the stallions to be removed from the sandy ring and the mares to be brought in. A groom appeared at Masters side quietly suggesting he allow the young male to take my harness off so my viewers would not be distracted from my legs by all the bells and leather. My Master held my head and allowed this other human to take my harness off. This just didn't sit right with me, there was no petting or care in the un tacking for one thing, just quick efficiency, but those hands held my lead rope and his thumb stroked my cheek below my eye... everything is alright if Master says it is. It must be, and at least it was Masters hand who held the cloth he ran quickly over my now bare flesh, giving me a quick polish before he led me to the ring.

Lunging is easy, Its one of the first things Master trained me to do. Long before I had the privilege of pulling his cart but right after I came to live in his stable we started on the long line. Master stands in the middle of an invisible circle and guides me with one long line attached to my headstall or bridle. When I was new at this work I wore a band around my middle as well with reins guided through the loops in it and Master used this to teach me to carry my head in the correct proud arch, as well as to learn signals from the reins when he walked behind me. Today I knew how to carry my head and I knew the signals even with only the guidance of a lead. Master would turn so he always faced me and I would step around in an invisible ring at a walk, trot or canter as he instructed me. I knew that he wanted me to impress his friends so I tried to look my best.

I try and make each step high with a little snap and a bounce in legs. I step like any proud creature would... but its in my trot I am most graceful. I even hear the word elegant used to describe me, and when my Master asks for me to turn and go the opposite direction I extend my legs and try and make the transition as smooth and fluid as any show pony would at dressage. We continue this for some time, moving through my gaits and Master has me cantering for several minutes, until my hide is shiny with sweat and even I am ready to lower my head a bit.

When he brings me to a halt I think we are done but its to my shock he hands the small thing driving whip - which he seldom ever uses, and my rein to one of the women he had been talking to. Her gloved hand conveys confidence to me even down the length of leather - but she's not MINE, nor I hers. I don't understand this and continued not to understand even when she flicks the whip on my thigh and tells me to walk on. She does so a second time before my long and thorough training takes hold and I find myself listening to her commands. I don't move with the grace or high steps I gave for my Master but I give her the walk, trot, and canter she demands of me. I try, each time I pass by the fencepost against which he leans, to catch my Masters eye and understand what is going on.

This Lady Sir - Mistress I learn later is the term - does not work me long. Just enough to test me out as she tells Master when he returns to her for my rein. She tells him I'm lovely but spoiled and nervous. That I need to get out and exposed to new things and others handling more - for my own sake. Master neither agrees or disagrees with her within my hearing. They do discuss taking the pale Belle and myself out together - to make a picnic of it -but I'm unsure if this Mistress means to harness us mares as a team or to each take our own cart. Master seems to like the idea, whichever it is.

We come back to that other pony, still being handled by a groom and Master asks for me to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. We are built similarly he says - equal height and long elegant legs. He asks the Lady Sir - Mistress - if Belles trot is as graceful as mine. The Lady laughs, saying not quite, but she's sure we can find a comfortable pace together. She tells the groom to put us in stalls near each other, to let we mares become accustomed to one another while their Master and Mistress attend the lunch and look over the stallions.

Again someone not my Master is touching me and its the same groom who holds Belle with his right hand, accepting my reins from Master into his left! Master has handed me over to another person like these rest of these ponies? I snort and yank on my reins, completely displeased and starting to back away from the groom only to have one sharp yank on my reins cause my bridle bite me painfully behind the ears. I stand stock still for a moment, considering lunging forward this time and biting when I feel the sharper crack of a well known - well Loved! - hand on my rear. Its Masters hand but he has struck me! For almost nothing! Offended, hurt, and not a little embarrassed I look back to see him glare.

"Walk on. Behave yourself," is all he says before crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't smack me like that the night he let me sleep covered in pond mud... but he did cross his arms. Was he cross because he was trying to impress the Lady Sir? She was the one who said I needed more handling...Oh...

I lowered my head and slunk after the groom, who tugged my reins again and led me and the other mare towards those too grand stables. Away from my Master.

About the stables themselves I should not complain. They are fine in the grandest sense of that word. The center isle is concrete - slick to walk on in metal shoes perhaps but it was easy to keep sparkling clean. Still I like the sand floor we had at home. Here there are tons of electric lights down the aisle and one in each stall as well so nighttime can be bright as day if desired. Home was not exactly dark and dank..., but sometimes the warm embrace of shadows can be a comfort. Particularly when one is embarrassed.

It was much too bright to be cross tied and brushed down in. But perhaps that was because the brushing was done with unfamiliar hands. The strange brush was just as soft but the strokes too quick. There was no Masters hand on my skin to center my world. Only a groom who held my bridle in one hand and the brush in the other, using it to give me a fast cleaning before taking out my bit, putting me in simply a headstall, and setting me into a large box stall.

I wandered this area, circling nervously several times, kicking up the tiny pine shavings that they used as bedding here. Hay hung in a basket, clean water in a large bucket in the opposite corner and when I settled enough to notice it I drank deeply. There was no straw for a comfortable mound of bedding, just the pine which looked neater and cleaner. It was deep at least and not horrible to lay on. Just not home. I was unable to nap as I had hoped. I wanted to sleep until my Master came for me, but was not lucky enough to slip away the hours that way.

It was afternoon when the stallions came back. A line of them trailed into the stable each of them cross tied and brushed down as I had been, and stabled on the opposite side of the aisle from we mares. None of them were quiet or calm save for the bright eyed fellow I had met earlier. He was large and strong looking as any of them but did not call out or rear or fling himself at this barred door as the others did. The cacophony of their frustration caused me to fidget and sweat and I wanted OUT, kicking my own door once in protest. A stable should be a quiet haven but they were making it sound like a Warfield. Sebastian snorted once but I had the feeling it was directed at me and my own outburst. Instead of him joining his brothers and I turned my eye to him.

He was stalled directed across the isle from me and he rubs his face against the bars as he watches me. Calmly. His posture and eyes seeming to telegraph there was nothing to worry about, to be calm. To wait for Master as he would wish. I took a deep breath and held onto the scent of my Masters hands. I could endure this nightmare and all would be well when he had his hands on my again. I would wait for his hands... I blew a soft breath out to Sebastian, a thanks for his calm which had grounded me.

Most of those Males had calmed after a while - save for Flame at the far end who would randomly shout and kick his door. He never seemed to get tired, only angry. I still did not understand what he was angry about - but it wasn't my place to worry about it anyway. Belle and I did not have too long to stay. She and I were both led out and put in similar harnesses. It wasn't one of my own but it fit well enough after the groom adjusted some buckles. Black leather with a few straps I wasn't used to, Besides the crupper - the bit that runs under my tail - there were extra pieces that went over my quarters and fastened down my thighs, These pulled on my legs just a bit when I stepped high but otherwise were seemingly there for show. The blinders had silver trim and the bridle was a double fashion with the kind of double bit Master never liked to use, but I suppose I was supposed to match Belle. From her calm acceptance I assumed this was gear she was used to. I felt a little silly as the groom fixed a feathered plume to the top section of the bridle and when I shook my head I could feel the feathers waving back and forth. My red harness had come with plumes but master never attached them.

The last strap before we were led out was completely new to me at least. it was a clipped bit of leather that ran from my bridle behind the ear down to a hook on the harness at the lower curve of my back. This small rein held my head in check and very still. I would be able to neither turn my head nor lower it from his highest position without a great hard pull on my bridle. Never never had i worn a check rein - I had never needed it! I always carried myself well.

I tried to be calm. If I were harnessed I would certainly see Master soon and he would set things right.

In the stable yard was a green painted cart. It had one center bar to attach two ponies with the bar between them instead of my double traces that I would stand between. The groom fastened my harness to the near - or left - side, putting Belle on the right. Even now she seemed so spiritless and didn't speak. I had tried to be friendly earlier and speak between the bars of our stalls and she had barely paid attention to me. I didn't dislike her but was far from feeling like she were a friend or herd mate. I stamped, restless but still trying to be good, while waiting for my Master. Our reins were straightened and with the afternoon sunlight on our smooth bodies we stood, waiting our Master and Mistress pleasure with one groom, surely as bored as we, holding both of our sets of reins under our chins.

When the human people came out they were accompanied by Sir James, who from his tone was in a very good mood. He spoke of wanting a painting of us, as we looked so fine together. The light voice of the Mistress agreed. Masters voice was low and I did not hear what he said about it, but even the sightless inflection on his voice was my music and I danced in place, happy to hear him as I could barely see him, unable to turn my head much. When he came in view I saw he carried a picnic basket much as we would take with us when he wanted a long afternoon out and would take sandwiches for himself and treats and oats for me. His other arm was up and bent in front of him with the Mistress arm looped through his the way I had seen other men lead ladies about. He led her thus to green cart and I heard him placing the basket under the seat. I could not see behind me now but heard both of them getting into the cart. I believe with Master lifting the Lady into place.

Sir James was at my head now giving me the kind pat on the neck I had expected Master to greet me with. "You fillies look fantastic together. It's a pleasure to see you pull one of my carts."

Sir ran his hands slowly down my side, reached to rub his palm over Belles face, and patted my rump before stepping back. I confirmed the Mistress was the one with our reins when she clucked to us, had us step out at a fast walk, and I felt a flick of her driving whip on my hip when Belle moved on without me. Harnesses jingled and I scrambled to get my feet under me as we tried to find a stride together. Belle was the most unanimated pony I had known right up to the moment her Mistress had given command. She was a different, purposeful animal, now that her ladies hands held her. I could understand that feeling. It made me like Belle a bit more.

With the extra weight of a second person the going was not hard and the Mistress guided us onto one of the paths I knew to be almost entirely flat going. Few hills. It was a wide path with a deep footing of cinders which made a pleasant crunch sound under our hooves. Mistress seemed to favor the whip as a signal opposed to the reins and it was a whip snap that she used to move us into a trot. My head was tied up by the check rein as proudly as I ever carried it and I found myself moving into a high stepping trot to match, moving myself like a hackney might. Belle made the effort to match me as we moved in my favorite fairy footed trot and we went forward briskly thought not very far. The orchard path, which we were on, takes one just far enough not to be in sight of the house and carries either into the pear orchard itself with its shade and cool grasses, or you can take the right hand and continue into open fields.

Trotting we were well into the orchard in less than 20 minutes and the Lady pulled us up under one of the oldest trees. I heard her tie off the reins to the cart seat and Master help her down, taking her and the basket to a grassy patch in the sunshine he settled her and returned to us. This was to my relief and apparently her disappointment, for she called after him that we were FINE, an could stand tied a little while. Verbally I did hear him agree, and while he neither untied nor untacked us, both of us mares had that check rain loosed so while standing we could at least turn our heads and relax our necks. He also ran his hands over us both - quick and gentle and checked our legs and feet for swelling or heat or rocks in our shoes. Satisfied for now me gave me a pat and returned to the Lady.

A horse or pony is an animal born to serve. We are ridden or pull carriage, We wait in stables or tied to posts, we wait in the mornings for our care, in the evenings to be put away like a well loved toy. We wait. A good well trained pony can slip into a space where time means little - how does a tied pony exist without her Master? All she is waiting. I suspect Belle spent a great amount of her life in the hands of a groom, waiting for those moments of attention from her mistress. I wait very little. Perhaps I am spoiled but I believe my Master values the time he spends on me as much as I value him. Or nearly so. I usually think so but today this human-person has so much of his attention. When she speaks he is listening, I can tell from the way he meets her eyes or tilts his head. He is not just being polite he is actually absorbing her words.

I watch them and try to just wait..., but inside my head I feel sick and green and don't like him listening to her. I don't like that he let her drive me. I don't like the color of her eyes or the way the sunlight makes her hair shine or frame her pretty face. I very much don't like when he puts a hand on her cheek and gently pulls her face to his own, his lips brushing hers.

I hate her laughter as she pushes my Master down by his shoulders and leans her body across him, sharing a kiss with him that is nothing like the gentle one he gave to her. She looks like a wolf that might eat him and indeed I hear him hiss when she pulls back a bit, biting his lower lip. I start to take a step forward to defend my Master to find Belle with her heels planted firmly bracing me and the cart and shaking her head. Very softly she tells me its what humans DO when we go out together without others.

"They will mate and we will wait," she says, very matter of fact.

I consider biting Belle or dragging her and the cart and the tree if need be, forward against everyone's will but my own, but when I look back my Master certainly doesn't appear to be attempting escape. He is sitting up now with the Lady across his lap and he has two fingers hooked through the satin lacing on the back of her corset. He has those laces pulled tighter than I think they are supposed to and she's a little pale and gasping. It reassures me to know at least he is in control of this situation.