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been shut down and the bar
closed, to be reopened later as a wine bar and then even later as a cigar den.
The mechanical critter was sold at auction where the school was the successful
bidder. Installed in the main barn, the horse was cleaned up and equipped with
a wide range of new improvements. The entire mechanism weighed nearly 2000
pounds and Boswick mounted on a concrete slab in the downstairs of the barn,
beneath the horse stalls. He then set about the difficult task of duplicating
it nine more times so that in a few months, he had ten of the monsters
available for the school’s training sessions. This one model was in a large
room within the old stone foundation of the barn. Stone walls and the
reinforced ceiling supporting the entire first floor of the training barn enclosed
the subterranean room. It had a musty odor and a polished slate floor. One
could hear horses pawing the floor upstairs and hear the beams creak and groan
as wagons and carts moved around on the work floor. In summer, the room was
cool. In winter, it was cold, but seldom freezing. It was a perfect place for
the training horse and students came to fear it like nothing else on the farm.
This was the room that Dori was taken to the next day.
    She wore the
same odd attire she was fitted with the day before. As promised, Winnie arrived
at five to see that Dori was up and ready for the day’s lessons. Her escort and
companion helped her bathe, shave her legs, under arms and crotch carefully.
Then Dori dressed in the same style of outfit she had first worn only 18 hours
before. Although the boots were the same, the rest of the clothes were fresh
and slightly different from the first day’s combination. The breeches were
fawn-colored and the tricky turtleneck short was an off-white. Her arms were
bound in the single sleeve and her lower legs again doubled up against her
thighs and ass. Dori was just as uncomfortable as before, having slept fitfully
on her left side all night. The chains at her collar, feet and wrists
prohibited any other sleeping position.
    “How many sets
of this outfit are there?” Dori had asked Winnie when the gag was taken out for
oral hygiene and breakfast.
    “Enough to make
you sick of wearing them,” Winnie answered, opening the closet in the bedroom
and displaying a wide assortment of garments, some of which Dori had not seen
before.
    “Now I know
where my tuition went,” the girl muttered sullenly.
    Breakfast
completed, the gag went back in and Winnie summoned the cart. They had headed
for a nearby barn with Winnie pushing the fat-tired cart and Dori hanging from
the overhead support bar.
    She now looked
at the horse and wondered silently what this thing was as the three instructors lifted her from the cart and
placed her on the shiny slate floor. The slate was cold. The room was cold.
Mistress Wright sat in a leather chair in front of the horse, tight black
riding breeches blending into the dark leather of the chair. The Mistress
smoked Cuban cigars. In the close coldness of the barn’s basement, mixed with
the smell of horses, feed and straw, the cigar gave off a strangely fearsome
effect.
    “Dori,” Mistress
Wright said slowly, as she might have spoken to a learning-disabled child.
“Dori, I want to make sure this is a very memorable summer for you. Your father
spent a great deal of money, fifteen thousand dollars, for you to come here and
I want to see that he gets his money’s worth. This is your first time with
Samson, but it will not be your last. Samson is a bit schizophrenic. Sometimes
he is easy, sometimes he is difficult. However, he seems to read the rider’s
thoughts. Think positive things, Dori, and you will learn to ride. Proceed,”
she said, turning her face to the instructors who were standing near Dori.
    Two of the
instructors picked her up and carried her toward the English saddle that was
fitted to the mechanical beast. A third instructor followed. Dori’s head was in
the usual “attention”