Chapter 7: The stables

It’s mid afternoon by the time Dora and I finish. Dora moves onto her next task, while I make a final inspection of Mistress Matilda’s office and workshop. Once I’m satisfied, I return to Mistress Matilda’s suite. She isn’t expected back until later, so I’m at a loss what to do. Mistress clearly expected that cleaning her workshop would take until evening. Had I not had Dora’s help, it may well have done so. I call the house administration number and ask what to do.

“Lady Matilda is scheduled to return to the Hall at six-forty-five,” comes the reply after a few moments delay. “Lord Arthur instructs that you report to the stables in ten minutes.”

Although the Hall is set deep in a rural valley, I’ve yet to see any sign of horses. I presume the reference to ‘stables’ is simply the ancient use of the outbuilding. Mistress cautioned me about entering the outbuildings, but I’ve been given a direct order.

It’s my first excursion into the grounds, although Mistress made sure I knew where various buildings are located. The stables are tucked away behind a copse of trees a few minutes walk from the servants’ entrance. An old coach shed, and what must have once been the coachman’s cottage, are opposite the stables. Both of those buildings have scaffolding around them, and their roofs are undergoing repair. However, there’s no sign of work being undertaken today.

The stable door is open. I’m a few minutes early, so I’m unsure whether to wait outside or explore inside. I opt for the latter. The front area inside contains stalls where the horses were once kept. But no longer. The stalls are empty. The bare stone floors and absence of hay, confirms my initial assessment. Whatever the stables are used for these days, it isn’t for stabling horses. Despite the absence of horses, there’s a fine display of leather harnesses and straps along one wall at the back of the stables. An assortment of metal pieces lie on a table under the hanging leather. I walk over to admire the display.

It only takes me a moment to realise that this equipment is too small for a horse. Even a pony would be too large for most of it. A wicked thought flashes through my mind. What if these are intended as restraints for human beings? Normally my first reaction to such a discovery would be alarm. However, dressed as I am is giving me powerful urges. I should repress them, but I have neither the ability nor desire to do so.

“I can see you are a fan of leather,” comes a voice from behind me. Master Arthur!

“Um ... The craftsmanship is excellent,” I reply.

My attempt to sound nonchalant is completely ruined by the squeak in my voice as I utter the words. It doesn’t occur to me to resist when Master Arthur lifts down a bridle and proceeds to fit it onto my head. A metal bit goes into my mouth, effectively gagging me. It’s held in place by a strap fastened behind my head. Smaller straps run up from under my chin, either side of my nose, before merging into a single strap between my eyes. The strap then passes over my forehead to join two other straps rising from behind my ears, to meet at a two-inch diameter metal ring at the top of my head. Small adjusting buckles ensure the bridle fits snugly.

Before tightening the bridle, Master Arthur undoes my pony tail at the back of my head. He gathers my hair into a high pony tail, which he feeds through the ring at the top of my head. He winds a thin leather strip around my hair, just above the ring, forcing my hair to rise up like a plume. A press-stud at either end of the strip holds his work in place. He has me look at myself in a mirror and I practically wet myself. I can’t believe how sexy this makes me feel. Should I feel humiliated and degraded? Absolutely. Do I? Not for a moment.

“I think Lady Matilda would like to see you like this,” says Master.

I can’t answer, but I reach for the strap to release my gag. Master Arthur promptly grabs my wrists and locks the leather cuffs behind me, somehow connecting the restraints to a ring on my skirt belt. For good measure he takes a strong leather strap from the display and binds my elbows behind me. Then he leads me into one of the stalls, and uses another leather strap to link the ring in my halter top’s collar to a ring at the back of the stall. I’m going nowhere fastened like this and I’ve no means of freeing myself.