Chapter Eighteen
It’s nearly fall again. My days drift on as Lockhart’s pony-slave. But as the weeks go by, I realize that I’m spending more time at the shop and less with my master. I’m more often in his bed, and less in the stable. I wear clothes more frequently—even in the house—and spend fewer hours shoveling s**t and wearing a pony harness.
Despite the way my life alters, I never disobey my master—the thought of doing so would never arise in my consciousness. And on a whim, or if some inflection in body or voice displeases him, he still strikes down on me with fury. I’m still punished when it’s necessary, but the necessity is as rare as a summer breeze in winter.
I don’t miss the extremes—all this seems appropriate as our time together reaches that magical two-year mark. I can sens
