Being an early riser has never bothered me. The land is at its most peaceful just an hour or two before sunrise. The horses aren't as stubborn. The wild animals are asleep, and those that aren't are returning to their nests or burrows with full bellies. Even the insects are quieter, and less irksome.
When I woke up, Josephine was snoring softly beside me, sheets twisted around her legs. Usually, the moment I open my eyes, I'm out of bed. This morning, the first thing I did was reach for Jo, ready to play more.
Despite the temptation, I dropped my hand, deciding against it. Josephine needs rest, and it makes sense to complete my chores while she's asleep. Not to mention, I needed time alone to process... everything.
So, I shove my feet in my boots, and jog down the porch steps, addressing Morgan first. When I attempt to hook my lead to her collar, she shakes her mane, blowing her lips in my face.
"Oh, come on," I coo, rubbing my palm across the fur on her muscular neck. "You're a smart girl. You know I wouldn't have left you in your saddle much longer."
She bares her teeth, showing me her pink gums.
"Do you want to complain, or would you prefer a brush?"
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Morgan waggles her carriage once more, then stills, allowing me to fasten the lead. I guide her to the barn, remove her tack, and hang it in her cubby for Nicky to clean later. Morgan munches on an apple while I tend to her coat.
Hearing the chewing, the other equines approach their stall doors to let me know Morgan isn't the only animal in need of service. Once I'm finished with my horse, I urge them all into the pasture, giving myself space to scoop their stalls. I lay fresh shavings on the ground, and refill their hay nets, cursing when I discover Nicky didn't restock the backup bales.
"Fucking teenagers," I grumble, grabbing a key for the ATV.
I take a short ride to the storage barn, and load bales onto the miniature trailer. Seeing as I'm already here, I visit the loft to collect Josephine's discarded clothing, smiling as I tuck her blouse into my back pocket. The woman does not appreciate her negligees being destroyed, but she's an accomplished seamstress. She can always mend it. And I enjoyed making her angry, so I plan to tear more items off her body.
Unless... she doesn't want to do that again.
The thought has me taking pause. I sit in the idling ATV, staring out at the ranch. The sky has turned a deep shade of purple—a sign that dawn isn't far off. Birds are jumping from branch to branch, stretching their wings. Horses stomp on the ground, impatiently waiting for Daryna to arrive. The old Ukrainian woman will toss toys into their paddocks, and dole out excess vegetables from her summer garden.
Last night, something inside of me shifted. It feels as if I shattered and mended myself within the span of a few monumental hours. I hunted Josephine. I spanked her, hogtied her, threw her around like a ragdoll. I allowed my darkest fantasies to become reality, and I've never had more fun. I loved it, and I don't want to banish those thoughts anymore. If I feel the urge to dominate—to dehumanize and degrade—I want to act on it.
