And just in that moment, the door slammed open and four women rushed into the room in a cloud of chatter. Each of them wore a dress of a different color, drowned in frills and lace. The clothes were so elaborate it was almost too much.
“Darling! We had such a good day!” one of them chirped, sidling up to Frey in a fluid movement.
“Oh, and look who’s joined us for dinner! This will be interesting!” A handsome dark haired woman laughed and hid her lips behind a red fan. Her accent was almost as foul as Reuben’s was when he didn’t make an effort.
“Frey! We went to the circus, and then Annabelle helped me buy a new set of earrings... you remember you promised, right?” twittered a beautiful young girl dressed in a gown that seemed loosely inspired by a peacock’s tail. She ran over to her husband and moved to sit in his lap with a delighted giggle. “We have all missed you so!”
Reuben couldn’t help but gawk at all the fuss and swirls of fabric. The four women seemed to get along like best friends even though they shared the same husband. He couldn’t help but wonder about jealousy. Where he came from, this could have never worked.
Frey gave the woman a tender smile. “Maybe we can go together next time. When I have less work to do.”
Less people to murder, Reuben thought.
The Peacock leaned into a kiss before withdrawing slightly to allow Red Fan have her turn.
“You must be tired, my white lion. You need something to take your mind off all those important things,” she said, gently tracing her gloved hand up his throat.
“At the moment, I am too hungry for that.” He smiled at them and got up from behind the desk.
Reuben was amazed by how relaxed Frey seemed now, but he could understand that being lavished with loving gestures by a group of beautiful ladies for whom he seemed to be the center of the universe had to be rewarding for any man.
“Where is that fucking dinner?” shouted the most mature looking of Frey’s wives. She had a distinctive tattoo below her right eye. “Your master’s hungry!”
Erik was quick to fill Reuben in. Peacock’s real name was Anita, and she was barely sixteen, married to Frey for less than two months. The one with the horrible accent was Emma, a former whore Erik’s brother had met at a pub in London. Erik described her as a fellatrix extraordinaire, though Reuben had no idea how could his master know of her skill. Bryana, the one with the tattoo used to work for the Dals before retiring into Frey’s bed. The tattoo was the work of a jail guard. She disemboweled him on her first day out. Anabelle, the last woman, was the quietest, but she still shone as brightly as her fellow wives because of her flame-colored curls and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts.
With all the chatter, it took another quarter of an hour for everyone to be seated, and Reuben found it intimidating to actually join in like an equal, since everyone knew he wasn’t, even with his hands free. There was far too much cutlery to choose from, and all he could do was look for cues from the other diners.
“So he’s the one who breeds horses?” asked Anita over the dinner table. Her gaze transferred to Reuben. “And he’s the horse?”
Reuben returned her gaze but wasn’t sure if he should answer. His palms were sweating, and Frey’s presence wasn’t helping either.
“He’s a horse that takes it up the ass!” Emma laughed, and Reuben’s heart sank all the way to the floor.
“Please, not at the dinner table.” Anabelle sighed, looking as noble and pretty as one would expect from a proper lady.
Frey just grumbled something and gorged on his steak.
“He’s outstanding at it, dear Emma.” Erik nodded at her with a smile and gathered some of the meat and potatoes on his fork only to gently lift it to Reuben’s lips. “I’m sure none of you could ever compete.”
This Reuben knew how to deal with, even if it was in public. He took the food without question, looking up to his master just for a second. His face must have been beet-red by now, he was sure of it.
It seemed Emma wanted to say something, but the youngest wife interrupted her. “His hair is really interesting, like a real horse mane.”
“It is very soft too. You may touch it if you want,” Erik said, eating a forkful of food himself. He fed Reuben with the same fork, and it felt like a strangely intimate gesture, especially with Erik’s family watching.
The girl gasped and pushed her chair back, but Frey grabbed her hand. “That’s enough, Anita. You will not touch it.”
“But he seems awfully pleasant!” She pouted but pulled back the chair without protest.
Bryana snorted into her wineglass, her gaze tracing Reuben’s form with unmistakable interest. “I wouldn’t mind a pet like that. We could have him castrated so that none of us gets a belly from him,” she teased Frey, reaching towards him under the table.
Reuben stilled, clutching his thighs together. Oh God. He hoped Erik would never consider something so horrible. Reuben valued his balls.
Frey just shook his head. “You really are a devil, my love.” He smiled at her, and Reuben could imagine that it was something she was doing under the table that made him so happy. “Maybe we’ll buy him off my brother when he’s bored with his toy. But I’m afraid we’d have to take his cock away too. Can’t have that in the house.”
Reuben pressed his thighs together even tighter. The conversation had killed his appetite.
“Not a chance. I rather like his cock and balls,” Erik said, slipping a round chunk of bread into his mouth with a loud pop.
Anabelle scowled. “Erik, why do you have to be such a pig every time we see you?”
“Someone needs to be the pig if your husband’s a lion.”
Reuben couldn’t even laugh, too focused on the sole idea of castration. He didn’t know how a man could ever cope with that.
“A pig, a lion, and a horse, all at one table!” Anita laughed and stroked Frey’s arm gently. In his wives’ presence, he didn’t even seem concerned with Erik’s abomination of a slave. Maybe he wanted to be considered more of a gentleman than he was.
“Now that’s a feast,” Emma said before pursing her lips around the fork. In time, the atmosphere became bearable again, but Reuben supposed the venison steaks had a lot to do with that.
*
After the dinner was over, and Frey’s wives left to prepare for the night, both the Dal brothers and Reuben moved back to the desk. The way Frey’s features hardened as soon as his female companions left the room made Reuben cringe a bit.
“I have bad news,” Frey said, rolling out a map on his massive desk.
“What a surprise.” Erik walked over to a small liquor table and got himself a glass of whisky.
Reuben gasped at the smell. He could sense it even kneeling on the floor, and looked up to follow his master’s moves. A drink would be so delicious after the meaty feast they’d had for dinner. He knew horses didn’t drink, but he wasn’t a real horse. Surely Erik understood that.
“Anarchists, or Humanists, as they like to call themselves now, have learnt about our food transport routes into London.” Frey pointed to something on the map. “The irony is, they wanted to use the cemetery train route to get into the city, themselves, though I’m not sure yet what for. Some of our men were killed, a few got away, but knowing Gregorovich, it’s only a question of time before he squeezes the necessary intel out of the ones his men kept. Our enterprise will take a massive blow if we lose those routes.”
Erik slurped. “And what can I do about this?”
Reuben moved closer to his legs, ready to support his master in any way he could.
Frey’s brow furrowed. “We either crush Gregorovich’s men with a bigger force, which could be extremely hard at the moment, or try to work things out with him. The man got rich on his own farms but is losing out on taxes. If we work together, it might be a way to keep up our business and make friends with him. That would help us lobby for the laws we want when he properly goes into power. Are you following, Erik?”
“No, I’m always leading. Aren’t I, Copper?” Erik leaned down to kiss Reuben’s forehead and grinned at his brother.
“Can you stop being an ass for once?” Frey slammed his hand against the desk so hard Reuben flinched away from sniffing Erik’s lips.
“Just tell me what to do.” Erik returned to the fainting couch and sat down. “It’s not like I have a choice in the matter.”
“I just hoped that maybe one day you would like to engage more with the family...” Frey sighed, spreading his arms.
“Spare me. I will never forgive any of you, so just get on with it.” Within seconds, Erik’s voice became cold as a winter storm in the north, and Reuben rubbed his cheek against his master’s thigh in an attempt to comfort him. He seemed upset.
“You will prepare papers allowing more transports. Make a report about more bodies that need to be taken out of London. Maybe also a need for more wagons. I will take that to Gregorovich and propose a deal. I hate his guts, but we need to think long term, and the man’s got ambition.”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that if you show him all those papers, your cover will be blown if he refuses?” Erik asked him dryly.
“No. He already knows what we do. If he doesn’t accept, we’ll have to move the whole operation. To the sewers maybe, which would be a pain to clear out. But if he agrees, he gets our infrastructure and doesn’t pay tax on a number of his wares. He can’t just take over the whole thing, ‘cause we would know, and we would have ways to report him. It’s all still sticky, but he’s an opportunistic businessman. I talked to Mother, and she agrees we should try to work with him.”
Erik snorted. “Just make a list, because I can’t be bothered to remember all those plots. Whose blood is that by the way?” he asked, nodding at the stain next to his butt.
Frey grinned in a way much different than than the way he smiled to his wives. “One of Buff’s men was trying to get to know Bryana a little too well.”
Erik burst out with whole-hearted laughter. “Did she even need her knight in shining armor?”
Reuben looked up at his glass, but moved away slightly. How could they talk so lightly of such things?
“I bet she could have handled it herself, but it was a nice touch. Wanted to show her that she’s under my protection now.” Frey smirked and crossed his large arms on his chest.
“You’re being generous, given that she probably only has to spread her legs for you twice a week at best.”
Frey’s face fell. “You’re such a filthy little prick. Maybe if you had a woman, you would know it’s not just about fucking all the time.”
“Well, it’s you who needs a minimum of five women at any given time. I make do with one horse,” Erik said and stroked Reuben’s mane.
“I don’t keep them as fuck slaves,” Frey said, and those words made Reuben look down. He didn’t like to think of it that way; he and Erik shared much more than violence.
“I wouldn’t need to enslave him.” Erik’s hand fell from Reuben’s head and clenched on the upholstery.
“Oh yeah?” Frey snorted and approached them with a cool smile. “What do you say, pony boy?” Suddenly, he was squatted in front of Reuben and grabbed his cheeks without force, but without much tenderness either. His hands were rough and smelled of the gravy they’d had with dinner “Would you stay with Erik if he didn’t keep you shackled? You like kissing his boots?” asked Frey in a sympathetic tone, as if he spoke to a child. Was that what Erik thought of him?
Erik grabbed his brother’s wrist. His slim fingers looked ridiculous curling around that powerful forearm, his knuckles white as ice. “Don’t you fucking touch him!”
Frey let his hand linger for just a second more, as if to prove a point, but moved away. Reuben didn’t even know when his body started shaking, but his muscles spasmed over and over again.
“Built like a sailor and skittish as a lamb.” Frey sighed, disapproval clear in his voice.
“If anything happens to him, even if it’s a fucking road accident, I’m gonna assume it’s your doing! And I’m gonna take your eyes out with your own fucking quill!” Erik was shouting now as he pressed Reuben close to his tense thigh.
Frey put up his hands. “Easy there. It’s all good. I was just talking to him.”
“Don’t fucking talk to my horse!” Erik shot to his feet, practically chest to chest with his brother who, in comparison to Erik, looked like a tower of a man.
Frey didn’t step back but didn’t push Erik away either. “I think we’re done for today.”
There was an obvious tension to Erik’s back and the way he clutched his fists at his sides, but he still chuckled, looking straight into Frey’s eyes. “Don’t fuck with me, brother. I’m not the one with things to lose.” His voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper, but it carried a threat that would have turned Reuben into a submissive puppy if it were directed at him.
Frey took a long look at Reuben. “I suppose you’re not.”
“I’m warning you!”
“I’ll make a list of required documents for you.”
Erik huffed. “Have it delivered.” And with that, turned on his heel. “Copper, we’re going home.”
Chapter 3
The next few days were tense. Erik spent most of the time in his office, leaving Reuben in Jack’s care. And as much as he enjoyed his groom’s attention and company, Reuben still missed Erik, so he was excited to be back in his cart gear again. The streets were crowded and dirty, but he took the chance to show off his skills and strength in smaller alleyways where there was no one to get into his way. And it was getting him the reaction he wanted. His master praised his speed and the broad expanse of his back, his posture, the tightness of his ass. Those words alone felt like a caress, leaving Reuben hopeful for the real thing upon their return. He would have smiled at Erik if he could, but he was too focused on the run, and he was masked anyway.
It felt good to be out, even if he couldn’t really breathe in much fresh air through the mask. He didn’t realize how much he’d grown until Erik had to get his outfit altered at a tailor’s. But he was moving with purpose, helping Erik do his job. There was nothing more important in Reuben’s world. They struggled through the crowd in the marketplace, and Reuben felt his face heat up when Erik traced the crack between his buttocks with a riding crop in front of everyone.
“You missed this, haven’t you?”
Reuben snorted like a horse, and it made a few passersby back away, warily watching him as if he were to kick them. He didn’t mind being watched as long as he was covered, reveling in the anonymity it gave him. After a few days of Erik being essentially married to his desk, Reuben missed both the outings and the touch on his ass. He loved being teased there, even more so now that he realized he didn’t have to mix the pleasure with pain.
“Such a well trained pony. You make me proud, Copper! We should resume your training today, what do you say?” Erik asked when they finally made the turn into the main street.
Reuben slowed down and gave a curt nod, but then proceeded further, with his head high. The sense of purpose it gave him was always a thrill. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip when Reuben noticed Frey’s house. Its shape was genteel, much like many of the grand buildings of London, but the marble tiles covering the outer walls made it look a bit silly. Even Reuben knew too much was just too much. If you overwork the bread dough, and the end product would be ruined. It was that simple. Then again, judging by the way Frey dressed his wives, opulence must have been exactly the look Frey was going for. But Erik urged Reuben to go on. It was the furthest Reuben had ever been in Bylondon.
“Straight ahead, Copper,” Erik told him, punctuating the words with a gentle slap of the crop. “Almost there”.
Reuben smiled under the mask, but his heart sank the moment he saw a familiar face in the crowd. He felt as if someone punched him in the gut, and he slowed so abruptly that the cart almost pushed him into the dirt. Reuben swallowed in panic
and began backing out of the alley. Jacob. It was fucking Jacob.
Reuben couldn’t let Jacob see him like this! He was the one who’d sold him off to the Pit of the Dead! And there the fucker was, flirting with a girl in pants so tight there was no doubt whatsoever about her gender. He was eating a pie, which he’d probably bought with the money he got for Reuben’s life. It was almost as if he were munching on a human pony sausage.
“Copper! Hush! What is it?” Erik smacked him again with the crop.
Reuben let out an inarticulate sound, focused on getting out of this alley as quickly as possible. His heart pounded as he frantically turned to pull the cart in the other direction.
“Copper! What the hell are you doing?” Erik yanked on his reins, forcing Reuben’s head down. “Stop.”
“Nnn!” was all Reuben could communicate through the bit, fighting the pull on his head. A sudden grip on his neck brought him back to reality.
“Where do you think you’re going, you fucking freak?” Hans growled straight into his ear, his presence as menacing as ever. Maybe even more so with all the people around them about to watch Reuben’s humiliation.
He whined behind the mask, trying to pull away from the choking. Anything but Hans and his crude methods!
“And now, you turn back and go where your master leads you,” the bodyguard growled quiet enough for no one else to hear. “Or it’ll be a wooden stick up your cunt instead Bluefinger’s cock!”
Instead of moving, Reuben turned his head to Erik with a whinny, trying to get his attention, but how could he if he couldn’t speak? Erik needed to understand what was going on! It was becoming difficult to breathe in the mask, and even though Reuben’s vision was partially obscured, he could see people stopping to watch the spectacle. They were laughing and pointing fingers at them.
“Move, you little fucker!” Erik growled in a voice so deep and low it barely sounded like him anymore.
Pride (The Copper Horse book 2) (gay erotic romance pony play BDSM) Page 5