Dark Horse: Tales from the Ranch Ch. 05

Peep moaned around the stallion's shaft, and Velvet refocused, shifting her lips to bear down on the mare's clit. Belle cooed as he watched Velvet's fingers spider across the mare's ass, spreading her perfectly fleshy cheeks and exposing her back door. Ms. Winters licked her lips, and reached under Belle's head to cup her breast and offer him her nipple. Belle hesitated only moments before accepting it. The older woman sighed very happily, feeling her flesh harden and extend into his mouth. Belle's tongue was nearly as gifted as his sisters.

Peep cried out, and the lines around Velvet's eyes curled into a smile. Her fingers sank deeper into Peep's flank, and the middle finger on her left hand stretched to press on the blonde's puckered hole. Ms. Winters moaned as she watched the first knuckle sink into Peep's ass. Just as Peep's muffled cries began to wind down, the second knuckle disappeared into her, and she squealed again. Louder. Louder. Velvet's eyes closed, and she grinned as she pulled back. As soon as she let go of Peep, the blonde fell flat on her back.

"Damn, Velvet," Peep said, panting. "How have you not cum yet? Peep went deep 'n everything."

"She came in Belle once last night and once this morning," the stallion said with a grin.

"Well... Peep can keep goin' if yer close," the blonde offered, blushing slightly. Velvet nodded enthusiastically, and Peep rolled over onto her hands and knees. As soon as she was positioned above Velvet's cock, Velvet's hands were in her hair. What followed was, from what Ms. Winters could see, and indeterminable mixture of forced facefucking and emphatic deepthroating. Velvet groaned and groaned, and the longer it went on, the more saliva and precum dripped down from Peep's lips and onto Velvet's balls; thick globs of it, giving her sack a milky sheen. Peep never left more than half of Velvet's cock exposed to air, and kept the entire thing warm and wet inside of her mouth as often as possible.

The older woman marveled at Peep's incredible mouth. Her throat easily handled Velvet's healthy thickness, and her tongue was the finest at the Ranch. She felt warmth spread through her middle as Peep's emitted a constant hnnghuck, hnnghuck, hnnghuck. Faster and faster, the pair went. Faster and harder. Ms. Winters whimpered as she watched her first two ponies engaging as passionately as they ever had. She'd never been happier for Velvet than she was as Velvet finally climaxed, the stallion pinning Peep's head in place and thrusting fiercely into the air.

Without prompting, Beau crawled over Ms. Winters leg, and laid down opposite her brother. The older woman exhaled proudly as the twins suckled from her. She closed her eyes and soaked it in.

Peep sleepily crawled across the grass and curled up behind Beau, laying her head on Ms. Winters arm. Velvet remained prone in the grass by herself for several minutes, spread eagle and exhausted, but eventually did the same behind Belle. In her mind, Ms. Winters checked off several boxes that had once seemed unachievable, and let herself just enjoy the moment.

***

"Which one is it?" Velvet asked, as she slid out of the black Mercedes.

"The one set back from the road there," Ms. Winters said, shutting the door as firmly and quietly as she could manage. Velvet nodded, and together they began to trek through the untamed underbrush. "See that one lone light on back there?" Velvet nodded. There was only one lit window visible anywhere. "That's where we're going."

Velvet was a curious study in contrasts. As always, she was nervous and uncomfortable in human clothes away from the Ranch, but she was also anxious and excited to be there. Sometimes, Ms. Winters wondered how much of her first two months at the Ranch Velvet really remembered. Isabella remembered it all; of that she was certain. Once, the older woman had interrogated Peep without Peep realizing what she was getting at, and Peep thought that Velvet remembered everything, but the line between the two personalities could be murky sometimes. Very murky indeed.

As they got closer to the house, Ms. Winters slowed to a stop, and they both crouched low next to a large tree. "Are you ready, Velvet?"

"Yes," she replied, unwaveringly.

"Okay," Ms. Winters said. "Do you know the name Corey Tierney?"

Velvet made a low murmur in her throat. "Velvet knows that name, but..."

"He's a few years older than you, so the story is slightly before your time. How about Claudette Phelps?" Even in the pitch black of two o'clock in the morning, recognition was visible in Velvet's eyes. "The 7th grade teacher and her 13 year old lover." Velvet turned at stared at the one lit window in the large, dark house. "Both parties claimed they were in love. Mrs. Phelps left her husband and two children behind, pledged herself to a pubescent boy, and went to jail for their illicit liaison. Everyone knows that part of the story. Do you know how it ended, Velvet?"

"No," she said, still staring at the window.

"Two years into her prison term, Claudette Phelps was diagnosed with a brain tumor in her amygdala. The amygdala is pivotal in decision making and emotional reactions. She insisted, right up to the hour of her surgery, that her affair and relationship with young master Tierney were not a product of her cancer, but, upon waking up..." Ms. Winters slowly shook her head. "Love is a fickle thing, Velvet. We want it to be permanent, and real. Predestined. We want it to be romantic and everything we dreamed it would be as little girls. Sometimes, it is. Sometimes, it's both real and brief. And sometimes, it's merely the result of a malignant growth of cells the host had absolutely no control over. A random chemical interaction for which there is no warning, sign, or cure." She paused for a moment, swallowing and licking her lips. "In the years after her surgery, Mrs. Phelps reconnected with her husband and daughters. They live a quiet, low profile life in the Toronto area."

"What about Corey," Velvet asked, still staring.

"The world, much like Mrs. Phelps, has forgotten about Corey Tierney. He had inventive, mind-expanding sex, with a beautiful 36 year old woman. Even if his body was ready for it, his mind was not." Velvet nodded quietly, still staring. "Lets go closer."

"Is... Velvet doesn't want to second guess Miss-"

"Don't worry, Velvet. There are no cameras over here." The older woman beamed as they crept through the fallen branches and dead leaves. "I made a convincing pitch as a door-to-door security system saleswoman. Unfortunately, at that time, Mr. Tierney was not interested in becoming a customer of TR Security Incorporated, but he did allow me supervised access to his home and surroundings for several hours while I... assessed his current security. We had a wonderful chat, as you might imagine."

"Velvet can imagine," she snickered. The lone lit window, a merely block of yellowish white light from their spot by the tree, slowly resolved into the room beyond as they closed.

"Corey Tierney," Ms. Winters whispered, as they came to a stop several feet outside his window. "The pony that never was. I was going to name him Ghost." Corey sat, reclined in a high-backed office chair, at a desk perpendicular to the window. They could make out the side of his face, lit mostly by the computer monitors before him. The electronic lighting did nothing for his complexion, but his pale, sallow skin looked barely any better during the day. Corey's fingers were a blur on his keyboard, and the monitor on his left was occupied by a word processor. The monitor on the right, however... It was difficult to be sure over the distance, but it looked like hentai. Tentacle hentai, she thought. Ms. Winters smirked. "Ghost was one of two candidates to be our third pony."

"The other was Belle?"

Ms. Winters nodded. "It's a thirty two minute drive from here to the Ranch. That proximity presented certain... risks. Not prohibitive, mind you. Belle, being from Kentucky, being homeless, presented a much lower threat to bring back to our home." Corey sat up and changed his focus over to the right monitor, and they watched as he loaded, viewed, and closed several dozen pictures and videos, both real and drawn.

"How..." Velvet stammered, tilting her head to see better. "How does that woman keep from tipping over?"

"Sometimes, Velvet, the fact that the fantasy is impossible makes it just that much more desirable."

"It's hard enough running with one as big as Velvet's," the stallion said, frowning. "She can't imagine even walking like that."

Ms. Winters smiled and continued. "Aside from proximity, Ghost was a model candidate. For a time, I considered taking both Ghost and Belle, but that was before I realized Belle had a twin sister. That changed everything." Velvet nodded absently, trying to focus on the waves of animated pornography. On the other side of the window, Corey slid lower in his chair, and pulled down on the waistband of his pajamas.

"No girlfriends, no relationships, and no sexual contact in years. He was embarrassed when I came on to him, Velvet. Panicked, even." Velvet was enthralled as she watched Corey masturbate to a picture of a woman, sitting down, with her enormous breasts resting on her enormous testicles, fellating herself. "It took some digging, but I eventually found where he posts his writings. Rape. The subjugation of powerful and influential female characters. Forced humiliation. General misogyny. Et cetera.

"The motivations of the human mind can be mysterious and inscrutable, but it's not a great leap to suggest that Ghost is angry at women, rather than the one woman who broke his heart." Velvet nodded, and on the other side of the window, Corey frantically grabbed for a sock and jammed it over the end of his penis as he came. He sat panting for several seconds before closing out all of the windows on the right monitor and returning to his writing. "Steady exercise, a healthy diet, and a firm hand could have helped him, Velvet." Velvet nodded slowly, and the older woman put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go home."

Velvet was quiet, saying nothing during the walk or the car ride.

***

Ms. Winters stood, one hand planted on the mantle above the fireplace, and sipped her fifth brandy of the night... or was it her sixth? The worry lines, set deep around her eyes, highlighted the strain of the last few days. Stiletto's passing had hit her much harder than she had let on until the small service they'd held. She'd never cried in front of any of the ponies except Velvet, although Velvet had no recollection of that per se.

The stallion herself appeared in Ms. Winters' peripheral vision, quietly waiting to be noticed. The older woman curled her lip contemptuously as she drained the snifter. "What is it, Velvet."

The dark latina frowned sorrowfully, and took a half step forward. "Velvet just... just wanted to say again that she's sorry she couldn't do more... but Stiletto was in pain."

"I know she was," Ms. Winters shouted, hurling her empty glass into the fire.

Velvet's frown deepened as she continued. "Velvet also wanted to say again that if there's anything she can do to help Miss Winters, she's happy to do it," she said, fading to a whisper at the end.

"Of course you are," Ms. Winters snarled. "I made you that way."

"Velvet... no! Velvet really wants to-"

"To what? Wants to what? Help me? Console your rapist? Your jailer?"

Velvet was dumbstruck, her lips quivering on the verge of affirmations and confirmations that just wouldn't form. "No, she-"

"She, she," the older woman aped, morbidly. "God, what have I done to you?" She almost managed to walk smoothly over to the tasteful liquor cabinet. Almost.

"Miss Winters, Velvet thinks you might be drunk."

"Of course I'm drunk, Velvet. I'm grieving," she said as she grabbed a fresh glass and poured her sixth glass of brandy. Or was it her seventh? "This is what humans do. We grieve."

"Velvet is sad," Velvet said, defensively. "She's not a robot."

"Velvet," the older woman spat, "is exactly what I tell her to be." Velvet whimpered injuredly. "I almost forgot I gave you that emotion," she added, drearily.

"Miss-"

"Ooooh God," she said, bracing herself against the cabinet. "Oh god, what have I done..." Ms. Winters half turned and ran her hand down slowly over her face, dragging the cheeks and the lips. Stretching her face. "What did I do to you, Isabella?"

"What?"

"Ooooh, Isabella," she moaned. "What did I dooo to you?"

"P-please don't call her that," Velvet stammered, taking a terrified step back, but Ms. Winters turned and stumbled toward her.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, Isabella!" Velvet took another step backwards, but the older woman reached her first. Ms. Winters cheeks were wet when she grabbed Velvet by the shoulders. "Isabella, I'm-"

"Stop," Velvet shouted, trying to wrestle free from the older woman's grasp, but Ms. Winters was bound and determined to hold her stallion.

"I'm sorry, Isa-"

"No!"

"I'm so sorry," she wept.

"Miss Winters, plea-"

"Snapdragon."

Isabella snarled as she planted a foot behind her and shoved the older woman. Elizabeth managed to get one step under her as she reeled, but after that she was falling. Her momentum carried her backwards into the wooden liquor cabinet, and she cried out as she crashed into it. Isabella took two quick steps across the room, grabbed one of the crystal brandy containers from the top of the cabinet, and shattered it against the side of the older woman's head. Elizabeth could barely see at all as her head bounced off the carpeted floor.

Isabella was on her in a flash, fingers wrapped tightly around the gray-haired woman's throat. Elizabeth squawked as she tried to breathe, but the fierceness in Isabella's tear-stained eyes was easily matched by the tenacity of her grip. The taller woman's tongue flailed over her lips, and her hands had no strength as she tried to fight off her attacker.

"Fuck you," Isabella screamed. "Fuck you!!"

Elizabeth's eyes rolled to the nearby end table, but her vision was getting blurrier and blurrier. She stopped trying to defend herself and stretched for the white object sitting just on the edge. Inches away. Mere inches. So close... Her other hand swiped at Isabella's face.

***

The girl roared wordlessly as she slammed Elizabeth's head down into the carpet. The old woman stopped reaching for the end table and weakly slapped at her wrists and face, but the girl slammed her down again. And again. and again. The old woman's eyes widened and glazed, no longer meeting her gaze but staring through her forehead. The girl screamed through gritted teeth, driving the back of her head down into the cream-colored carpet over and over.

And over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over.

Somewhere along the way, her screams turned into crying, and when her fingers finally pulled back, quivering, from the still body of her captor, the girl began to sob. Her legs gave out, and she rolled back and off of the corpse. The girl curled herself into a ball, knees tucked tight to her chest. In the back of her mind, the stallion raged and wept as well.

Elizabeth's right arm jerked, from the shoulder out to the fingertips, and the girl shrieked. She kicked at the end table, knocking it over and away and well out of reach, but the body was still after that. Pupils focused somewhere beyond the door to the garage.

A white envelope, that had been sitting on the edge of the end table, fluttered down onto the carpet between them. The girl had to swipe at her eyes twice to clear her vision enough to see Elizabeth's flowing script, upside down. 'Isabella', it said on the outside. The girl kicked out her foot, planted her heel down on the envelope, and dragged it back to herself. Her fingers were almost completely useless trying to open the unsealed envelope, or at holding the pages of the letter inside still long enough to read.

My Dearest Isabella,

I'm so proud of you. You will never know how proud I am. Words alone cannot express it, but alas, words are all I have left. I promised myself that, once I thought you were ready and the right circumstances presented themselves, I would do this for you. I hope you will permit me to be proud of myself as well.

In all of my life, I had never done anything so hard as taking you away. I kept that struggle away from you for so long because I thought what you needed most was a firm sort of dependability, something your own mother denied you for so long. It was never my intention to fracture your psyche, and for that, I am sorry. Given time, I believe you will resolve with Velvet, and I have done everything in my power to ensure you that time.

In my study, you will find a dossier filled with account numbers, usernames, and passwords. I have spent most of the last year preparing these documents to be complete and thorough, in addition to preparing the various accounts and vendors to be ready for you. Isabella Ruiz has been added as a signator, an authorized user, or whatever specific language might be pertinent to every bill, creditor, debtor, and bank I, until now, dealt with. This is a lot to process, so take a moment.

The girl did not.

I have done everything in my power to prepare the way for you to take over the Ranch. Travel arrangements were made, and any authority investigating the matter will see that I left the country yesterday on my yacht, bound for Barbados. The crew of my yacht has very specific instructions as to their route from there, and rest assured, you do not need to concern yourself with it. For all legal purposes, I am merely away. My husband Richard, whom you had the great misfortune of meeting once (I would apologize again for his roaming hands, but that incident feels trite in retrospect), will not be a problem for you either. Richard is also 'on an extended yachting trip', and will not be returning.

Eventually, my 'trip' will stop leaving a trail, and I will be declared dead. When this occurs, my will, of which there is a copy in the study, has you listed as my sole heir. If you wish it, you can request the copy my attorney has on file (his contact info is also in the study), but they are identical. The Ranch is yours, in name and in deed.

But why? Get on with it, Elizabeth! Stop lecturing!

This end, and this is truly an end if not the end, was my goal from the start. To help you become more. During our time together at Blue Skies, I saw what you could do with a horse, instinctively, and I was in awe. Given different circumstances, you could have had a promising career as a doctor, or (given your preference toward animals over other people) a veterinarian, but I knew there was no road between where you were and that goal. No way for you to get out from under the shadow of your mother while she was competent enough to control you, and deranged enough to drag you down with her. You would have been burdened with a lifetime of care for a vindictive, bitter, and ungrateful shell of a human whose only tie to you is that you entered this world through her uterus.

The legal system would not have been your friend. I could not have easily mentored you, or supported you without years of bitter legal battles. There was no way I could find to put you in a position to shine the way I knew you to be capable of. No legal way, anyway. I chose the hard road, and I chose it for both of us. For that, I am also sorry.