Chapter Four
THE EARLY MORNING DEW
or
First Assignment in The Grooming Barn
I DECIDED, AT the risk of appearing stand-offish, that I’d skip the communal supper. I checked with Adam, who said it was fine, since I’d met everyone of consequence already. But he hoped I’d avail myself of the experience most days, since my meals were included with my stay.
I honestly wasn’t that hungry. I was more excited than anything else. I had been prepared for the gear and the submission, and even for Kamal’s expert domination skills, though the entire enterprise was eminently impressive.
But I hadn’t been prepared for the raw sexuality and appeal of Puck in the paddock, bent over with his hands clutching the rough wood fence, while a butt plug horsetail was inserted unceremoniously into his rear.
I’d anticipated being blown away with it all. And I had been.
I was so impressed by the ranch and so excited about taking photos of these beautiful creatures for six weeks, I wanted to chart out the way I would approach my assignment and figure out a plan.
I’d start in the grooming barn tomorrow, because that was where the experience began for the ponyboys.
In the afternoon, I’d get some shots of the ponyboys with their trainers.
Maybe later, I’d take candids in the bunkhouse and the main house.
None of these images would include faces or other identifying features.
I could hardly wait to get started.
*
IN THE MORNING, I rose early, showered, and dressed in tan cotton shorts and a blue short-sleeved button-down.
I pulled on my white chucks, which I’d never be able to wear on an actual horse ranch, but they seemed perfect for a day at the BCR—comfortable and hip.
I desperately wanted these cute ponyboys to think I was hot.
Yes, my mind was on obtaining professional and artistic images of all the dirty details, but I wanted to present an alluring image myself.
Especially when it came to Puck.
I ran into Kamal on the main floor, a cup of coffee in his hand as he made his way along the hall.
“Good morning, Oliver.”
“Good morning, Kamal.”
“There’s fresh coffee in the cafeteria,” he said, with a smile. “And you’ll find cereal in the cupboards, and fruit and milk in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be in the front room if you’d like to join me?” he pointed a bit further down the hall.
“Sure. Thanks.”
I grabbed a banana and a cup of coffee and found the room Kamal had spoken of.
It was actually at the back of the main house—or the front, I suppose, depending on your perspective—with large windows and comfortable furniture arranged in a pleasing way.
Kamal was seated in an armchair by the window, sipping his coffee and making notes on a piece of paper which he folded and put in his pocket when I approached.
“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day,” he said cheerfully, tossing his pen onto the wood and black-metal coffee table.
“Yes.”
I stood at the expansive windows, sipping my coffee and staring out at the green fields and paddocks. The sun glinted off the walls of the grooming barn and arena, and the bunkhouse was a small brown dot in the distance.
“I take it you’re a city boy?”
I smiled. “Yep. Don’t get out to the wilderness very often.”
“Hmm. I hope you don’t find this place boring. There’s not much to do but enjoy the beauty of nature and play with kinky young men.”
He winked.
I laughed.
“Mm hmm. I figure my work and the…scenery…will keep me entertained.”
“What did you think of my contrary ponyboy?” His deep brown eyes pierced me with curiosity.
I shrugged. “You mean Puck?”
“Of course, I mean Puck.”
I laughed and scratched my chin. “Hey, I’m new here. I don’t know how many cranky ones there are.”
“Fair enough.” Kamal smiled.
“He seemed…pissed off about something. Do you get a lot of ponyboys like that?”
“No, not really. Most of them are quite happy to be here, kinking it up, and it’s more of an intense game than anything else.”
“Sure.”
“Then again, it’s not uncommon for this type of role-play to trigger deeper, unaddressed issues in some men. They think they want to play pony, but they aren’t prepared for the immersive nature of the ranch. Or the demands of trainers like myself.”
“I imagine. You seem very…dedicated.”
Kamal chuckled.
“That’s one way of putting it. The ponyboys I train might use a different word.”
I laughed. “Sure. But I bet they like it. For the most part.”
He grinned and sipped his coffee.
I peeled my banana and took a bite, staring out at the sunlit grounds.
*
I DECIDED TO grab my camera and stroll the fields in the early morning, before the trainers and ponyboys began their official duties, to capture the beauty and innocence of the area.
There was dew on the grass and birdsong pervading the cool air, and the heat from the rising sun forecast a steamy day ahead. I spent some time taking shots of the grooming barn and arena from the outside.
Then I walked the dirt track to the bunkhouse and took some shots of it too, wondering what was going on inside those wood walls.
At the moment, I was far enough away to not be invading anyone’s privacy.
But I hoped to eventually take some non-identifying photos of the men inside, those willing to share their daily lives with me.
First, I’d have to get to know them.
I aimed my Nikon at the edge of the forest, where squirrels and chipmunks frolicked and antagonized each other, and birds landed on branches to observe the cresting dawn, when the creak of rusty hinges made me glance at the bunkhouse.
A young man emerged into the morning light, and it only took me a second to recognize the dark-haired man I’d seen in the paddock with Kamal the day before.
Puck.
He took in my presence with a disdainful glare and walked forward, stopping before me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. He was wearing faded jeans with a rip in one knee and a LEGO Star Wars T-shirt, which I couldn’t help finding completely adorable.
I straightened from my crouch and smiled.
“Good morning.”
“Is it? Yesterday you watched that prick give me my tail, and today you’re creeping around taking pictures of the bunkhouse. You realize we don’t play pony in there, right?”
Jesus, he was a spitfire. Despite our chemical attraction in the paddock, it seemed I’d gotten on his bad side.
“I know. I was only taking shots of the building.”
Puck assessed me, and I think if it hadn’t been strictly forbidden on ranch property, he’d have pulled out a pack of cigarettes and smoked one.
He looked me over slowly, not saying a word, his expression stony as I stood there.
I tried to think of something else to say since he wasn’t exactly rushing to fill the silence.
“It’s a beautiful morning” was all I came up with.
Puck didn’t take his eyes off me as he responded. “I guess. I shouldn’t be up this fucking early.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t have to be in the grooming barn until one,” Puck said, scratching beside his freckled nose and yawning. “I should have slept in.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, trying not to be seduced by this man’s arresting physical form which seemed to belie his ornery soul.
But he was fucking sweet-looking, with his soft black hair that curled at the edges in the summer heat, and his delicate, freckled nose, lean stature, and full mouth.
The jewelry in his eyebrow and lower lip glinted in the sunlight.
He didn’t answer right away. Then, miracle of miracles, the hint of a grin and the words, “Really? If you don’t think putting nine guys together in a communal space is going to make for noisy sleeping arrangements, then you’re dumber than I thought.”
I held onto that grin like a lifeline and ignored the derogatory comment.
“Good point,” I said. “Well, since you are up, and I’ve got my camera, would you allow me a few shots?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to be identified.”
“Of course,” I nodded. “I only want you from the neck down.”
It took a second for both of us to register what I’d said. Puck smiled slowly, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I scrambled to dissemble. I cleared my throat.
“I mean, I’ll only photograph you from behind or from the neck down. That’s all I meant.”
He regarded me curiously, and again I saw an invisible cigarette dangle from his lips. He was that cool. He radiated it. Although, I had the feeling it was an intentional deflection from more unstable emotions.
“Are you sure?” he asked. There was no teasing this time. It seemed like a sincere inquiry, and I struggled to answer it with the same honesty.
“No,” I said, “But as far as my photographic license goes, I’m not allowed to take a photo of your face.” I hesitated, looking at the ground, then glancing back up. “As much as I’d maybe like to.”
We gazed at each other for several moments. Then he shrugged.
“Whatever. Do what you want. I need to take a piss. You can shoot that if you want.”
“Um… Isn’t there a bathroom inside?”
Puck laughed, turning only slightly to the side as he unzipped his fly and dug his cock out of his pants.
“It’s crowded right now with the morning crew.
I thought it would be more private out here.
” He held my gaze as a jet of bright yellow piss arched out and landed in the grass, steam rising from the shock of heat on the cold morning dew.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I had promised to capture life at the BCR, and Puck had given me permission. So I lifted my camera and took a few shots of Puck emptying his bladder onto the ground, as my heart beat hard in my chest.
“Wow,” he said when he’d finished. “You’re dedicated.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous. Even while pissing onto the ground with a crappy attitude.” I grinned at him in order to temper my words. It was all so true.
He stared at me—I think surprised by my forthright compliment.