The Mares of Gashran

Morning in the mares’ stall began later than usual. Akrah and Mur were waiting for Harg, the Base goblin, and didn’t need the mares, so they allowed the tavern workers to tend to those in a hurry first. By the time a pair of stablehands entered the stall, the slaves were already awake. Kazana wanted to use the latrine, but the more experienced Dana advised against it. "If you can hold it, better hold it," she said, visibly enjoying the hard straw mat, relishing the fact that the goblins had left them alone. "We don’t know when they’ll come for us, and we’ll have to smell it all that time." The stall door creaked, and two goblins appeared in the doorway: an old one with a wrinkled face and scars on his hands, and a young one, barely reaching the height of an adult goblin. The old groom entered first, followed by the young apprentice, barely suppressing the tremor in his hands. Their conversation, started outside, didn’t stop: "Look, nephew. These mares should be ready in an hour. I’ll explain the entire morning routine now." The young goblin nodded, his yellow eyes darting around the stall, assessing the slaves. Four women—Dana, Karana, Tana, and Kazana—watched them silently. Kazana fidgeted, her face reddening with tension. "Come on, animals! Get up and kneel here," the young goblin drew an imaginary line in front of himself. Understanding the gesture, the women immediately lined up before him. Karana was again struck by the absurdity of the situation: four powerful women, capable of tearing these small creatures apart with their bare hands, meekly kneeling before them. "Don’t think like that," she reminded herself. "They’re masters. We’re slaves. That’s the order of things." "Bow!" he ordered. Karana slowly lowered her head until her face was level with his yellow eyes. He waved the young goblin over. "Watch," the old one said, staring into Karana’s eyes. She tried to look away, but he growled: "Look me in the eyes!" Karana froze, even stopping her breath. She knew: resistance would only make things worse. "Open your mouth! Now!" the goblin ordered. She obeyed. He shoved two fingers into her mouth and pulled her tongue out as far as he could. "Look," he said to the young one. "This beautiful, strong animal will obey you. Every word, every gesture. But for her to obey you, you must be confident in your right to command her. All commands—firmly, without doubt in your voice. She’ll follow any order you give if you make her understand you have the right to give it, and she has no choice. You’re not alone. Behind you stands the entire goblin race. We’re the masters. They’re intelligent, but they’re livestock." He spat in her mouth. "Now close her mouth and pet her." The young goblin obediently pressed Karana’s chin, forcing her to close her mouth, then stroked her cheek. Unexpectedly, she smiled at the young goblin, who didn’t repeat his mentor’s action. "Now let’s get to work. I hope you’re not afraid of them anymore." The four mares knelt in a row, their chains attached to the wall rings. Dana and Karana—experienced—had already automatically assumed the correct position: straight backs, hands behind their backs, legs spread for stability. Tana and Kazana—used only to the farm goblins—looked uneasy. Their shoulders trembled, their eyes darted around the room. "First: defecation. They must leave the stall with empty bowels," the old goblin said, pointing to a long wooden trough filled with sawdust. "The command is 'toilet!' The experienced ones know when. The new ones must be led on a leash. Then, when they’re in the right position over the trough, the command: 'relieve yourself!'" He turned to the mares: "Toilet!" Dana immediately stood and, taking a few steps, squatted over the trough, her muscles tensing but making no sound. Karana followed without delay. Tana and Kazana froze, not understanding what was required, until the old goblin lashed their thighs with a short whip. "Toilet!" he repeated, grabbing their chains and using them as leashes. They stood from their knees and also positioned themselves over the troughs. Both faces reddened with shame. "Command!" the mentor ordered. The frightened Kazana began to urinate. The old goblin grimaced. "Command!" he repeated, making a note to inform her owner that she wasn’t trained to use the toilet. "Relieve yourself!" the apprentice finally said, and the mares finally managed to empty themselves. "Good," the mentor approved of the mares' efforts. And continued in a mentoring tone: "Now carefully wash their rear openings with a wet cloth. And send them to the tacking station." He pointed to the stand where the mares' harnesses and tails hung. "Again, all experienced mares will go themselves and stand in a position convenient for harnessing. The untrained need help." The old goblin led the mares to what he called the "tacking station." Here, they apparently didn’t trust the mares’ training, so they used wooden structures with leg spreaders. Dana and Karana stood in them themselves, spreading their legs and resting their knees in special recesses. Tana and Kazana didn’t resist either. "First, the crotch," the old goblin explained, taking a jar of thick white cream."Lubricate so it doesn’t chafe. Especially for those under saddle." He shoved both hands between Dana’s legs, roughly spreading them, then applied cream to the inside of her thighs and crotch. She clenched her teeth but didn’t flinch. The young goblin repeated his movements on Karana, his fingers trembling. "Now, the tails," the old one continued. He took an artificial tail—a leather phallus imitator with a plume of real human hair—and inserted it into Dana’s anus. Then tails were inserted into the other mares. Kazana trembled when her tail was put in place but didn’t make a sound. "Now, these two," he pointed to Dana and Karana, "under the saddle, and these will pull the wagon." The rest of the dressing went smoothly. Afterward, the mares were led to the feeders. In this tavern, mares were fed in portions. The bowls contained thick porridge with pieces of dried fruit and some kind of meat—the standard ration for mares. Dana ate quickly, watching every move of the goblins from the corner of her eye. Karana tried to chew slower, for which she received a whip strike to the shoulder. "Faster! No dawdling," the emboldened young goblin snapped. After eating, it was time to clean their teeth. The old goblin gave them water to drink and rinse their mouths. Then, with a special brush, he removed the porridge remnants, rinsed their mouths again, took a metal bit with rings for reins, and inserted it into Dana’s mouth, securing the straps behind her head. Then he repeated the entire cycle on Kazana. His apprentice serviced the other mares. "This is so they don’t bite and obey better," he explained. "Experienced mares open their mouths themselves. New ones have to be taught again." Tana didn’t so much resist as open her mouth not as wide as the goblins wanted, remembering the spit in Karana’s mouth. But after a strike with the whip handle to her cheek, she silently opened her mouth as wide as she could. The young goblin confidently inserted the bit; his hands no longer trembled. The old goblin inspected each mare, checking if the straps were properly secured and if the harness chafed. He flicked the whip at the hitching post, testing the mares’ reaction. All four immediately tensed, staring at him, ready to follow any command. "Ready for work," the old goblin stated, nodding to the young one. "Now you know how to prepare mares for the workday. Remember: they must be clean, fed, and ready for the road." The mares were led outside, tethered to the hitching post, and the goblins went about their business. Two goblin boys passed by, their attention drawn to the redheaded Tana. They reached for her mane, but she pulled away. "Submit," Karana whispered through the bit. "They won’t do anything. But if you resist, the adults will come and beat you." Tana obediently dropped to her knees and bent her body so the boys could reach her mane. The boys curiously examined her red hair and freckles on her chest. "If this were my animal, I’d call her Fatana,"one said, poking her forehead. "Just need to carve two more marks." (Karana would later explain that "Fata" in Goblin means "fire.") A wagon pulled by two local mares entered the courtyard. In the back was a box, and on the driver’s seat sat Harg—the Base goblin. "Well, boys, like the mares?" he asked, seeing the young goblin. "This beast was talking to that one," the young goblin complained, pointing at Karana. "I’ll whip her at the halt," Mur promised, appearing with Akrah. Harg jumped down from the wagon and opened the box. Inside lay a naked sleeping woman—a tall blonde with powerful shoulders, clearly a descendant of Vikings. "She’ll sleep another five or six hours. There wasn’t time to prepare her—you appeared unexpectedly. Taking her like this?" "We’ll take her," Akrah nodded, looking at the powerful thighs and toned stomach of the sleeping woman. "Why did Rokh refuse her? And these two?" He clawed toward his recent acquisitions. "He didn’t even see this one; she was supposed to be given to him in two or three months. He’s overstocked right now. He’s not selling Kaila, who’s been with him for a long time and, in my opinion, is quite ready, and two are in the training cycle. He just doesn’t need more." "And these," he looked closely at Tana and Kazana, "we regularly pass through other farms—less striking mares, so it’s not so obvious that most wild mountain mares in the last five years bear his brand first. He sometimes buys them back, by the way." Akrah nodded understandingly. He’d have to scour the surrounding farms once he delivered these home. Surely there was something to profit from in the area. The box was transferred to their phaeton using a primitive crane. Harg and Akrah agreed to contact each other in six months through the tavern owner. Tana and Kazana, as planned, were harnessed to the phaeton. Mur and Akrah climbed into the saddles—Mur intended to drive the wagon from the saddle, holding a long rein. "Forward!" Akrah commanded. The mares moved forward. Karana knew: today she’d have a talk with Mur. Undoubtedly a whipping for today’s conversations. And possibly a whipping for yesterday’s insolence. But right now, she just walked, like all the others—obediently, without questions. Dana walked unhurriedly, her powerful legs springing under Akrah’s weight in the saddle. After yesterday’s release with the vibrator, her body still hummed with pleasant fatigue, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She tried to listen to herself, searching for the familiar signs every woman knows—nausea, heaviness in the lower abdomen, changes in her breasts. Pregnant or not? Of course, as a biologist, she understood it was too early for symptoms, but she couldn’t help herself. In her memory surfaced images of other mares, their swollen bellies, their heavy gait in the last months... But she had never seen human children here. Where did they go? Were they sold? Killed at birth? Unlikely. Surely they were raised somewhere for their own purposes? She flinched when Akrah lazily flicked her rump with the whip—not painfully, just to remind her of his presence. "Dreaming, bitch?" he grumbled. Dana continued to run silently. She knew: her reaction to the question wasn’t expected. After a few hours, muffled sounds came from the wagon: the scrape of metal, a dull thud, then a quiet moan. The new mare had woken up. Akrah immediately ordered a halt. "Camp here," he tossed to Mur, dismounting from Dana. Mur nodded and dismounted from Karana. He was focused—at a forest halt, he didn’t trust even his own: four mares against one goblin, even hobbled, still posed a danger. So he acted by the proven scheme: he made each mare kneel in turn, then traditionally shackled their legs with a short chain, preventing them from straightening. To each collar, he attached an additional foot-long chain, the other end of which he secured to a root protruding from the ground. Now they couldn’t even move—only sit on their knees, bent in three, so their chests pressed against their thighs. He leisurely circled them all, tugging at the chains and lashing Kazana with the whip for trying to lift her head. Tana and Kazana whimpered from exhaustion but were silent. Dana and Karana sat motionless, resting from the road. They had long grown used to such treatment and simply enjoyed that at this moment no one was beating them, and they didn’t have to run anywhere. Meanwhile, Akrah jumped into the wagon and opened the top lid of the box. Inside lay a blonde—tall, with powerful shoulders, her blue eyes wide with fear. She tried to lift herself, but the chains prevented her from moving. "You’re awake," Akrah said in the common tongue with a heavy accent. "You’re my mare now. Ana." She tried to say something, but only a hoarse sound escaped her throat—it was parched. "You’ll stay in the box for two more days," Akrah continued, ignoring her condition. "Then you’ll get freedom of movement. If you behave. Later, your gag will be removed, but you’ll stay silent. If you don’t stay silent, I’ll beat you and deprive you of food and water. I know you understand me. Nod that you understand." The captive nodded. "Eat. Drink. Sleep. Tomorrow, back on the road." After dinner, Mur, having tied Dana and the new mares for the night, led Karana aside, away from the fire, and made her kneel before him. His yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Well, talk," he said, removing the bit from her mouth. "What did you find out last night? And why were you talking again without permission?" Karana lowered her head. "Master, they’re from the Base. Like us. Harg sold them directly, bypassing Rokh. That’s all I know." Mur snorted. "You’re lying. You talked to them longer." He sharply yanked her hair, forcing her to bend lower. "Punishment for insolence." He swung and lashed her chest with the whip. Karana clenched her teeth but didn’t scream. She knew: screaming would only excite him. "Talk," Mur said, delivering a second strike. "What did the mares tell you?" Karana submitted once again. "There’s nothing to say, master. Their story almost completely repeats Ana’s. They were guards at the Base. They were sold to local farmers training mares. They were offered to Rokh—they don’t know what was planned for them—they don’t know either. If there are any more women like them around, they don’t know. Master, you can beat me, it’s your right, but I have nothing more to add." "Fine, I believe you. There’ll be no additional punishment. Turn around and bend lower. You still need to be punished for insolence and chatter." "Thank you, Master," the mare mumbled, assuming the indicated position. By evening, the camp had quieted. The draft mares had long been asleep, chained to the wagon wheels. The new mare tossed in her box. Karana, returned from the whipping, lay quietly under Mur, who, as always, had settled on her stomach. Dana lay on the thin mat serving as Akrah’s bed. In his sleep, unconsciously, he fiddled with the ring on her left nipple, his head resting on her right breast. But it wasn’t this that kept her from sleeping. Her thoughts returned again to the possible pregnancy. She remembered how, two or three years ago, one of the mares in her then-master’s house had walked heavily pregnant. At some point, she disappeared but returned a couple of weeks later, empty. Where had she been? What had they done to her? Where had the child gone? Dana never found out. "Maybe it would be better not to give birth," she thought. "Maybe it would be better to make sure it doesn’t happen." But she knew: she had no choice. As always. The following days passed without incident. The new slave remained locked in her box. On the very first morning, she couldn’t hold it and soiled herself, and without unshackling or removing her from the box, she was cleaned as best as possible, but it was decided not to feed her until they arrived at the villa. The air around the wagon became heavy with a foul smell, and even Mur, accustomed since childhood to such odors, preferred not to open the lid again. Dana walked under the saddle, her body accustomed to the rhythm of movement, long used to Akrah’s manner, and nothing distracted her from thinking. Her thoughts increasingly returned to the possible pregnancy. She caught herself listening to every signal from her body, but there were no answers. Akrah, engrossed in studying the contraband device, allowed each slave to climax the next evening—except the new one, of course, whose box remained closed due to the stench. Tana and Kazana received their share of pleasure and confirmed on the third day Mur’s theory that satisfied mares behaved better and calmer. When the villa gates finally came into view, all four mares sighed with relief—without even realizing it. They were stopped in the villa’s courtyard, where Mur began directing the unloading process. First, the new slave was pulled from the box. Her body was covered in filth and excrement, her hair matted, her eyes feverishly bright. She didn’t resist—her body was numb from lying in the box for so long, she was hungry and thirsty—but she was immediately placed on the sawhorse, where they began washing her with soapy water, scrubbing her with stiff brushes, cleaning her of her own waste, preparing her for the usual process of turning a woman into a mare. They were waiting for the local mare healer. None of those present had experience removing teeth. For now, after washing, she was epilated, her pubic hair trimmed, boots-hooves and full harness selected. The others were unharnessed and made to kneel in the same courtyard. Mur, lashing the air with the whip, gave commands to the grooms, who took the mares one by one to be washed and then to the stall. While waiting for the healer, Akrah and Linya settled into chairs in the depths of the courtyard. He told her about the trip: the new acquisitions, the story of the mares accidentally found at the farm, his plans for the future, how Dana and Karana had behaved on the road. Karana knelt nearby, involuntarily listening to their conversation. She was surprised by her own feelings: she had missed this. Linya, the villa, her stall. She hadn’t expected that this place, where she was beaten, humiliated, and used, could evoke something resembling nostalgia. But it was so. She furtively raised her eyes to the mistress and saw that Linya was looking in her direction. "Well, Karana," the mistress said,"glad to be back?" Karana was silent. She knew: any answer could cost her a whipping. But Linya didn’t expect an answer. "Take her to the stalls," she ordered Mur."Let the grooms wash her and give her rest. Deep cleaning can wait until tomorrow." Mur nodded, tugging Karana’s leash. "Get up! beast. Time to go home." Karana obeyed, but her heart strangely tightened. She didn’t know what it meant—nostalgia for a home that had never been her home, or just a habit that had become her life? But it didn’t matter now. She was back here. And this was all she had left—this strange, twisted, but still her world, where she knew her place, her duties, and her small, pitiful joys. She stood on trembling legs and shuffled after Mur on shackled feet, feeling the leash tighten. Home. She had returned home.