Del listened to the alarm and waited for Marge to turn it off. He was thinking and this morning he felt like he thought better with his eyes shut. Finally, after the damn buzzing had driven every thought from his mind he turned over, reached across her and hit the button.

He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He heard Marge stir next to him, heard her get off the bed and pad off to the bathroom.

He woke up to the sound of eggs frying in the kitchen. It was almost dawn; the birds were in the midst of their morning chorus. There used to be whippoorwill here years ago. He'd heard their lilting song before the sun came up in the morning, and later, an hour after sunset. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a whippoorwill.

His year was broken up in seasons and the names of his charges. Loosa who he trained for six months, just before Brandy and Claire who were quicker. A year like any other. He'd been at the ranch for ten years, no, eleven last spring.

He sat up, rose and went to the bathroom. After taking a piss and splashing cold water on his face he felt better. He put on his robe and went to the kitchen, gave Marge a kiss on the back of her neck, took his plate to the table.

He liked his coffee hot out of the pot like Marge made it, the real stuff, not the crap he got at McDonald's. He used his toast to clean his plate, smiled at Marge when she sat across from him, just toast and coffee for her and her assortment of pills.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

"I'll be spending the next few nights in the stable," he said watching her face. Marge and he went back forever, looked like they were going to grow old together. Her face was rounder now, blonde hair beginning to gray. He could still see the cute seventeen-year-old he met after coming home from the Army.

"I'll need some things, I'll make a shopping list."

"Sure," he said. He watched her take her pills. She wasn't sick or anything; they both were healthy. She believed in vitamins and herbs.

He took his plate to the sink, rinsed it off and left it on the counter. He poured himself another cup of coffee, took the pot to the table and topped her cup. She smiled at him, went back to her book.

In the shower he thought about Penny and Star and the Colonel who he'd be seeing right off the first of the day. He imagined himself bending Marge over the table, her robe pulled down to her elbows, baring her back, and tossed up over her ass. He imagined fucking her, the table shaking with each thrust, cups bouncing in saucers with a clatter, cutlery falling to the floor.

He imagined Penny's ass red from a flogging, her tears and the way the muscles in her back rippled afterwards. He rinsed his hair, flung it from his eyes, and let the shower pound his face.

He dried himself off, stepped out of the tub and finished drying himself while he looked in the mirror. Slender, a slight paunch. Not because he was getting fat, he just wasn't keeping himself trim, didn't really feel the need to keep himself trim. He worked hard enough as it was.

He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, left his robe hung on the bathroom door, his towel folded and drying on the towel bar. He dressed in black in the bedroom, his uniform. He had favorite shirts; his shirts were all black. Others that weren't his favorites and he wasn't quite sure why. Some just fit well, felt nice when he moved. Cuffs weren't too short, collars weren't too tight.

He sat at the table and watched Marge as she made out the list. He brought her book closer, saw it was a Dorothy Sayers mystery. Marge finished the list, tore it off the pad.

"Just two nights?" she asked.

"Maybe three. I'll check in."

She pushed the list toward him.

"I'll mow Thursday."

"Working hard?" She sipped her coffee.

"This week I'll bust my balls."

Marge smiled at him, took her book.

"In two weeks they'll have a ranch picnic."

She nodded, set down her cup.

He looked over the list, maybe an hour's shopping. He folded the list and put it in his pocket.

He kissed her neck as she read and left the house.

The Dodge was the perfect place to gather his thoughts. He sometimes wished he had a dog. Not a special dog like Spot, the Colonel's dog, who was a good girl and fun to be with. Just a mongrel, someone who'd enjoy sticking her nose out the window as Del drove and liked having her ears scratched.

When he dropped Marge's groceries off he'd pack a bag with his things. This evening, before dark.

He started the Dodge, gave the dashboard a pat and turned out of the drive.

He parked behind the bunkhouse, left Marge's shopping list on the front seat. Today was going to be messy; he didn't want the list getting wet or lost.

He stopped at the stable first to check on Star. He was early, as usual, could hear the charges stir in their stalls at his steps. He passed Misty's stall without looking, opened the latch to Star's stall and went in.

Star knelt in the corner, facing the center of the space, eyes down. It looked like he had something to work with at least.

He checked her mane for vermin, checked her ears, and raised her chin. Her nose was pierced; a silver ring hung from it almost touching her upper lip. He checked her eyes, opened her mouth. She watched him as he left her and went to the shelf. He brought back a hood and handcuffs. "Stand," he said.

She rose gracefully, offered her wrists.

He dropped the hood over her head and locked it to her collar. He took her hand, pulled her to the pole by the north wall, under the window. He cuffed her to the pole, forced her to kneel.

He finished his examination, wiped his hands on a rag, rose and laid the rag on the shelf.

He left her, latched the stall door and paused to glance in Misty's stall. She lay on the floor, curled, her eyes open and watching him. He smiled at her, gave her the salute and started out for the Colonel's house.

He could smell breakfast being prepared in the bunkhouse. He'd get a cup of coffee on his way back, Penny in tow unless the Colonel had other plans.

The grass was wet with dew this morning. He stayed on the chipped stone path which circled up the rise. Spot slept by the doghouse, her dish empty.

Spot was heavily tattooed, colorful stuff which ran down her arms and across her back, down her legs, across her front. Her piercings were lost amidst all the color.

He liked Spot, liked borrowing her to take her on rides. It gave the girls a chance to pull a real load — not all the owners were as compact as he was. Spot was affectionate but not overly so. A perfect dog, not a whiny yapper.

He knocked at the Colonel's door, a brass doorknocker shaped like a voluptuous young woman. He waited. The door was thick, heavily paneled and painted black. After a minute he knocked again.

The knocking was finally answered. When the door opened Del heard Spot yip behind him. He went in the house; the elderly housekeeper, Bertha, shut the door behind him.

He was made to wait in the study. The housekeeper brought him coffee and sweet rolls. He relaxed in a big leather chair with an illustrated copy of Pierre Louy's Aphrodite. He didn't know French, made do with the pictures, being careful not to get crumbs on the book.

He heard them, shut the book and laid it on the table. He didn't stand.

Penny knelt by his chair. He touched her shoulder briefly, looked up at the Colonel sitting in his swivel chair behind the big desk. The Colonel held his coffee cup in one hand, saucer in the other as he drank. His burgundy colored robe shimmered with his movements.

"You probably already know about Star, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." Del crossed his legs.

"She's your primary charge now. If you think this one needs more work and you can handle both of them, then okay. I think Penny is ready to go home. I can call her owner right now."

Del shook his head. "She needs more work, sir."

"If you think you can do it, be my guest." The Colonel set his saucer and cup on the desk.

"We'd better be going." Del stood.

"Marge coming to the ranch picnic?"

"Yes, sir."

The Colonel smiled. "Bringing her good potato salad again, I hope."

"I think so, sir."

"Go on. I can see you're eager to get to work."

Del went to the door to the study. "Come," he said.

As Penny rose to her feet, the Colonel said, "Did you ever hear the one about the midget prostitute?"

"I think so, sir."

The Colonel's smile turned into a frown. "If you're so eager, go."

Penny followed Del out of the house, stopped on the path when he left her to go pet Spot. Penny followed him down the circle, stopped when he stopped. He turned, slapped her hard across her face. "No more games," he said. "Hear?"

She didn't raise her hand to her cheek, nodded slowly, blinked back tears.

He hoped he'd loosened a few teeth, damned paint. He turned and she followed him to the stable.

He unlatched her stall door. "Get your things."

She glanced at him, walked past, tears in her eyes. She reached to pick up her blanket; he went by her, took what he needed from the pegs on the wall. She followed him to Star's stall, stopped when she saw Star hooded and cuffed to the post.

"Drop it by hers." He hung up the bridle and lead on a peg, his whip on another. "Follow me."

In her old stall he loaded her arms with rags, saddle soap, comb and brush. Penny followed him as he carried his kit, the large red box. It took several trips to move everything.

He put the bridle on Penny, clipped on the lead and tied it to the post. "Kneel," he said. It took a minute to find his crop; he'd have to make time to organize himself today. He was tired already.

"All fours," he said. "Both of you."

Star was quicker; he tapped her shoulder with the crop. "Good girl." He walked around to Penny. "As for you," he said. He slowly whipped her.

He tossed the crop onto the shelf, was angry with Penny for flinching. He dropped his jeans, knelt behind Star, entered her as Penny sobbed with the bit in her mouth. Star squeezed his cock with her cunt. He knew from the start he was going to like this one. She had some training.

When he was done, he stood and fastened his jeans. He felt better. He found the clipper in the tack room, came back and plugged it in.

He shaved Penny's legs first, what he could reach. Then her cunt. He had her roll over and he finished that part of the job.

Penny was unmarked except for being a paint. He'd do something about that this afternoon. He shaved her arms and her armpits. Her skin was soft and warm. Pliable. She stared at the ceiling as he trimmed her.

Damn, he thought. He'd left her tail at the Colonel's last night. He'd have to stop by sometime to pick it up, preferably when the old bastard wasn't there. No, sir. Yes, sir. Sir stuck in his craw.

"Knees, Penny," he said.

When she was in position he unhooked the lead and coiled it. He unfastened the bridle and removed the bit from her mouth. He hung the bridle and lead on their peg.

He knelt by Penny and grasped a handful of hair and tugged. Her head tilted back exposing her throat. He flicked on the clipper, set it to cut close.

"No more games, hear?" He shook her head. "I don't have the time to waste on you." He shaved her, long strokes removing hanks of hair. Each stroke exposed a two-inch wide swath of bare skin.

The skin over her skull was smooth and thin. He could see blood vessels and the shape of the bone. He shaved her completely then repeated each pass in the opposite direction, from the top of her head down.

He turned off the clipper, rose to his feet and brushed off his pants. Her hair littered the stall floor. He'd have them sweep this afternoon.

He returned the clipper to the tack room, oiled it and set it in its proper place. He grabbed an extra lead and bridle for Star before leaving. He took down the clipboard for Penny and hung it on a nail next to Star's clipboard.

He needed a break. He'd get them settled and then he'd walk around. He felt almost human again. Removing Penny from top priority gave him breathing room. He hadn't realized how much of his space she'd been taking.

He checked his watch. Still time for a ride this morning. He went in the stall, hung up Star's lead and bridle. He removed Star's cuffs and put them on Penny. Star had red circles around her wrists. He unlocked the hood and tossed it onto the shelf. "Kneel," he said.

Star knelt; he turned her so she faced Penny. Penny's tears had almost dried. He sat on a bench and looked at them. He wasn't sure he should be liking Star so much so early. He didn't trust that feeling.

"Star; Penny. Penny; Star. We'll be working together." He paused. "Star was read the rules last night. I'll summarize. No talking unless addressed by a ranch hand, owner or the Colonel. If addressed, you may only say yes, more and please. Repeat that."

"Yes," Star said. "More please." She slowly raised her eyes to his.

So that was why. He'd fix her of that. "Any special dietary needs?"

She stared at him.

"No, then." He rose to his feet, took Star's blanket from the floor and folded it. "I'm going to take a walk around. While I'm gone you two may speak to each other. Speak softly."

He patted Star's shoulder, felt her hair by her ear. He said, "You be a good girl," to Penny and left them.

He checked Misty's stall, he didn't expect to see her there. He left the stable and headed to the wagon shed. He saw Misty in the ring with Benjamin. She stepped nicely.

He leaned against the ring's railing and said to Benjamin, "She's looking pretty good," as they both watched her.

Benjamin nodded. "See you have a new one. The paint gone?"

"The paint's still here. New one's name is Star."

Benjamin smiled, gave a quick sideways glance. "You have your hands full."

"Nothing I can't manage."

Benjamin gave a nod, the faint smile still on his lips as he watched the ring.

Del watched Misty. He liked the way her breasts moved as she stepped. Some of them had breasts that flopped, others had breasts that didn't do a thing, might as well have been two rocks. Misty lifted her knees high. She wore heels that looked to be four inches. She was spectacular. He'd love to have just ten minutes with her but knew he was going to be too busy. Damn paint. "See you," he said.

Benjamin nodded, lifted his hat and wiped his forehead with his arm.

At the wagon shed Del picked out a two-seater and drew it out into the yard. He set the harness in a seat and shut the big wagon shed doors. Of all the buildings the wagon shed was the most rustic looking. The washhouse was a cinderblock building, the bunkhouse a wood frame building sided with bare wood clapboard. The stable had stained rough plywood siding, was long and tall, though nothing was stored in the hayloft. Tall was just for looks.

The wagon shed was weathered board and batten siding with a rusty sheet tin roof. Looked like it had been here for a hundred years. Every building on the ranch was less than twenty years old, built after the Colonel retired from the Air Force.

He pulled the buggy under the shade of the maple so the seats would be cool. It rolled easily, was light. Penny was going to have a workout pulling Star and him. Do her good.

He stopped at the bunkhouse, found out what was for lunch, carried a handful of apple slices to the stable for the girls.

He was supposed to think of them as ponies but that was impossible. No horse ever looked as good as Misty, no horse ever gave him a look as Star had just done. He wondered if putting her out at the post a few lunch times wouldn't cure her. Probably just the opposite.

He'd paint them both this afternoon while the others were broiling in the sun. You'd think they'd learn.

He unlatched the stall door, closed it behind him. Penny and Star were both silent, their eyes followed him as he moved.

He tossed the apple slices on the blanket, "No hands." He sat on the bench and watched them.

Star had pierced labia and clitoral hood. He liked the way she moved; even on her hands and knees she moved like a dancer.

"Kneel," he said when they were done.

He took down Penny's bridle and lead. He stroked her cheek before fitting the bit in her mouth. He fastened the bridle, clipped on the lead, set the lead in her hand. He stood in front of Star, said, "You know what to do."

He watched Misty in the ring through the north window as Star opened his jeans and drew him out. Once he was in her mouth, he held her head as he thrust. She gagged until she found the right angle — he let her adjust her head.

He shut his eyes, tried to pretend this was Misty, not a damn paint. Misty with such thick hair. He could bury his hands in her hair and never touch her head. Not like this one. Star's hair felt sharp and brittle, like it was ready to break off in his hands.

He heard Penny champ at her bit, finished in Star's throat and drew back so she could taste him. He felt her tongue stroke his cock; she kissed the head of his cock before settling him back in place and zipping up his jeans.

He turned and saw Penny's moist eyes watch him. He wanted to . . . He took a breath, went to the shelf and found his crop. He held it in both hands, bending it, feeling its supple spring.

"Stand, Star, and take Penny's lead." He waited. "Stand, Penny."

Both their feet were bare. This would help toughen them up. He unlatched the stall door. "Penny leads."

He led Penny out of the stable into the bright light. It had gotten hot — Penny was going to sweat.