Hinterlands (6 page)

The Stables

An
Erotic
tale By Isha Dehaven

The
stars burst overhead, shattered and brilliant, firing their silver light across
the black canvas sky.
 
Amelia
glanced up at them, and then back at the dark shadow of the massive house as it
fell away behind them. They had exited through the same service-door she had
entered on that first day at Hinterlands, and she found it quite odd now that
her arrival now seemed like the distant past.
 
Shocked momentarily by the cool autumn
night, Amelia had been ushered into the back of an open air wagon where to her
surprise there were a number of other house-servants waiting there in the
darkness, most of them in their bedclothes shivering. She was surprised to see
the small oriental girl from the dining room there, and beside her the skinny
red-haired one from yesterday’s breakfast sitting mutely, and somberly, their
arms crossed and their small breasts and dark nipples visible beneath the thin
fabric of their nightgowns. She took her place on the firm wooden bench and
noticed that there were also many young men she had never seen before, even
while walking about the house. Perhaps footmen or stable boys in training?
 

“Why
aren’t we going yet? I’m freezing!”
 
It was the red haired girl and she was whispering.
 
Her hair was wet and hung heavily about
her shoulders. She was shivering and clutching her shoulders. Mr. Stephen had
obviously retrieved her directly from the bath.
 

As
if on cue they heard a violent commotion from the side-door of the house and
the sound of a feet kicking and being dragged through the small
pea-gravel.
 
Three young men this
time were pulling and pushing someone through the darkness.
 
As he came into the moonlight all on
board the carriage could see it was another young man that was being forced on
board.
 
He was lean and powerfully
built, wearing a white house-shirt that was torn and hanging from his finely
defined frame.
 
The look on his face
was wild, and his dark blonde hair hung loosely over his eyes.

“Let
me walk I say!
 
Let me walk!”
 
The man screamed defiantly.
 
Yet as soon as the men relinquished
their hold on his arms, the young man immediately began to sprint away, forcing
the others to give chase.
 
He ran
directly to the waiting group in the wagon, his bare feet crunching in the
gravel, and then proceeded to scamper in tight circles around them, juking to
and fro in order to keep the wagon directly between himself and his angry
pursuers.
 
Mr. Stephen, creeping
quietly, made a pathetic attempt to grab him from behind and was
surreptitiously knocked to the ground and trodden over, eliciting a burst of
laughter from everyone on board.
 
A
dark haired-young man who had been sitting next to Amelia, silently raised
himself and moved to perch on the side of the wagon.
 
As the man in the white shirt came
running around for another circuit, this dark haired man leapt cat-like onto
his back and knocked him to the ground.
 
For a moment they both struggled and it seemed as if there would be a
fight, but it was only for a moment, as the other men quickly pinned him down,
binding his hands with a tight cord.
 
He was placed into the wagon breathing hard and angry, his knees already
bruised through his torn breeches. A small drop of blood colored the corner of
his mouth.

His
face was youthful and confident and he stared ahead blankly, seemingly at
nothing. It struck Amelia that this face was so lovely it could have been
carved, much like a statue, or the fine wooden carvings outside the Duchessa’s
door.
 
He was someone who had
strength and surety, much like Lord Dunmoor, and she could also see
imperiousness in those blue eyes.
 
Who in the world was this young man?
 
She noticed the others too felt his
power, and they stared fixedly at his body and face, deeply attracted to his
wildness and ferocity.
 
As she
observed him sitting there on the bench, his face changed.
 
He had softened, the spirit of
resistance, the fight, cooling to a simmer. He seemed defeated now as the wagon
pulled away from the main house.

They
traveled through the night down the winding road, the relative silence only
broken by the occasional cough, and Mr. Stephen complaining of his sore back.
Before long they approached the large stables Amelia had glimpsed some days
ago.
 
Somehow the structure appeared
much more ominous at this hour.
 
The
wagon ground to a halt and Mr. Stephen climbed down slowly. He was obviously
quite sore from his run-in with the young man.

“Alright!
 
Everyone out!
 
Step lively, now.
 
Ms. Jenkins, Ms. Elandar!
 
No shoving.”
  
Six young men now came sauntering
out of the lighted entrance to the Stables. They looked to be farm hands,
accustomed to working with animals and bales of hay, and their rough and ready
appearance didn’t help any of those present feel more comfortable. Amelia could
smell the scent of horses and hay on the air, strong enough to overpower the
perfume of the lush green grasses and wild lands that surrounded them on all
sides.

After
they had all exited the wagon, (the young man was carried by his shoulders and
forced to his feet) they stood nervously and expectant, no idea what came
next.
 
Glancing to her left she
could see the tall red haired girl, Ms. Jenkins, with tears streaming down her
face.
 
A few other girls stood
around, doing their best not to draw attention to themselves.
 
The four house-boys who had accompanied
them in the wagon stood stoically together, holding their small bags of
possessions.

“Each
and every one of you has been selected by the Duchessa de Montaigne
herself
, to be trained and prepared for
her
personal
service.” Mr. Stephen
shouted trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
 
“This means your future here at
Hinterlands, is entirely dependent on your full participation in this training.
Failure to adhere to the training regimen will result in your immediate
dismissal from the estate, and loss of your situation.
 
Is that understood?”
 
There was a general murmuring from the
group as each of them contemplated the prospect of losing their situation.
 
This was simply not an option.
 
Banishment from the estate meant certain
poverty and possible starvation for most of them.
 
They were the working poor, trained for
service, and without a recommendation from one’s previous employer, they would
be untouchable to any new potential situation.
 
Mr. Stephen cleared his throat and
continued his speech.

“Your
clothes will be removed.
 
There are
no clothes permitted here while you are in training.”
 
This was met with shocked gasps from
them all.
 
Before they knew what was
happening, the six attendants began stripping them of their clothing,
forcefully.
 
A particularly large
farmhand, built like the side of a barn, approached her from behind.
 
He grasped her nightgown by both
shoulders and with virtually no effort whatsoever he tore the thin fabric from
her body, laying her naked in the cool night air. Terrified, she immediately
dropped her bag and covered herself the best she could with her hands.
 

“Hands
at your sides! Hands at your sides!” Mr. Stephen yelled his voice cracking.

Reluctantly
and dutifully, they did as they were told, placing their hands at their sides
and standing before each other naked.
 
Amelia could feel her pink nipples hardening in the chilly night
air.
 
They all stole glances at each
other’s nudity, young breast, thighs, and penises exposed in a manner none of
them had ever experienced.
 
The tall
red-haired girl stood across from Amelia, and she could feel the girl’s eye’s
trailing from her small breasts, down to her sex, and on to her legs as they
tapered toward her tiny feet.
 
The
small oriental girl stood next to an amazingly voluptuous dark haired girl from
the kitchens, their bodies in stark contrast to each other.
 
She shivered and tried not to gaze
longingly at the wild boy’s body.
 
She couldn’t resist.
 
His
chest was strongly defined and broad, his abdomen rippled from long hours of
labor.
 
His penis was…standing up
slowly, growing before her eyes.
 
He
glanced at Amelia’s face and his gaze softened, almost a pleading expression.

“Eh
Boss...look at this one here.
 
He’s
off to the races already” one of the attendants had noticed the young man’s
erection hardening and growing.
 
It
was smooth and handsome, this penis.
 
It looked strong and robust in the evening light. As if her face
couldn’t get any redder, Amelia flushed at the sight of it. The skinny Miss
Jenkins gawked openly, her mouth hanging open.

“Close
your mouth Ms. Jenkins!
 
Have some
propriety young lady!” Mr. Stephen chirped, relishing the irony. “Oh there-look
at this!
 
Mr. Howard! You are just a
barrel of laughs tonight aren’t you?” Mr. Stephen circled the young man slowly.
Amelia was glad to know this lad’s name, even though Mr. Howard seemed so
formal a name for one so wild.
 
“What shall we do with you sir?”
 
He mocked, pursing his lips.
 
He then removed a small riding crop from his jacket and held it up in
the air for all to see.
 
Without
another thought he whipped the boy’s hard penis with a snap. Mr. Howards face
contorted with pain, and he exhaled his breath in a shuddering hiss, yet
somehow he managed to stand stock still at attention, looking directly forward,
right towards Amelia actually.
 
He
seemed to be gazing at her body, and she shifted nervously, holding her thighs
tightly together.
 
There was simply
no way to hide the patch of blonde hair that lay nestled between her slender thighs,
nor her small breasts as they stood erect in the chill.
 
She averted her eyes demurely, but she
also couldn’t help but notice Mr. Howard’s penis. It had turned red along its
top, and was growing larger and angrier by the moment.

“Do
you like her boy?
 
That one there
eh?
 
Ms. Kerrick?”
 
Mr. Stephen had noticed that the boy was
glancing in Amelia’s direction.
 

Her
heart was racing.
 
The last thing
she wanted was attention from Mr. Stephen.
 
Watching the boy’s penis treated so roughly, had been beastly, but even
more alarming was the realization that she was aroused and wet with
desire.
 
She could feel the silky
smooth dew rapidly gathering between her nether lips, and she resisted the urge
to move thighs together, lest anyone take notice. Glancing around she noticed
that some of the other girls were panting as well and Ms. Jenkins was actually
stroking her sex with her fingers absently, breathing hard, her mouth slightly
open again.

“I’ll
take care of him Mr. Stephen!” a female voice rang out from the darkness.

Coming
soon:

Hinterlands Book II