Crestwood Academy for Young Ladies - Forced Fem Fantasy

Chapter Eighteen: Good Control

Dylan sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought. Dinner had come and gone, but Aaron hadn't shown up. No one had seen him since etiquette class and Dylan couldn't help but wonder if Aaron was still stewing over the strict critiques Ms. Abbot had delivered. Aaron had been unusually quiet the past few days, retreating into himself. Dylan figured he'd give him space for now. They all had their ways of dealing with the pressure.

As he got ready for his second riding lesson, Dylan grabbed his riding clothes from the wardrobe and immediately noticed the faint smell of the barn and horses. He'd forgotten to send them off for cleaning after his last lesson, and now the distinct earthy scent clung to the fabric. With a sigh, he pulled on the tight pants and jacket, the snug material reminding him how different it felt from the skirts he had grown accustomed to wearing throughout the week.

Dylan glanced in the mirror, adjusting the zipper on his jacket. The pants clung to his legs in a way that still felt foreign, but at least they were pants, he reminded himself. Grabbing his gloves and helmet, he headed out of the dorm and across campus toward the stable, the crisp evening air cooling his cheeks.

When he arrived, the other girls in the riding group were already milling about, chatting and getting their gear in order. Dylan offered a nod as he approached, still not entirely comfortable being surrounded by so many girls. One of them, a girl he recognized from his Finance class, smiled as he neared.

"Hey, you're in Professor White's class, right?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her riding helmet.

Dylan nodded, recalling her name was Jess. "Yeah, Finance. Not exactly my favorite."

Jess laughed, rolling her eyes. "Tell me about it. I can't stand that class. It's like White's on a mission to make it as boring as possible."

Dylan chuckled. "I thought it was just me. Glad to know I'm not the only one."

They shared a moment of mutual frustration over the class before turning their attention back to the stable. Dylan felt a little more at ease after the conversation. Despite the unusual circumstances, he was finding small pockets of connection with people, even if they were fleeting.

Soon, the instructor arrived. She greeted the group and wasted no time getting them started. "Alright, ladies, let's mount up and get ready. We'll be focusing on trotting techniques today, so pay attention and follow instructions closely."

Dylan moved toward Willow, the horse he'd been paired with last time, feeling a small surge of confidence. His first lesson had gone better than expected, and now he felt a sense of anticipation rather than dread. He swung into the saddle, settling in as Willow gave a gentle snort.

The lesson began with a review of basic commands, and it wasn't long before Dylan found himself falling into the rhythm of riding. The instructor's sharp commands echoed through the open field as they moved from a walk to a trot. Dylan focused on Willow's movements, the subtle shifts beneath him becoming easier to interpret.

"Good control, Miss Diana," the instructor called out, catching Dylan's attention. "You're picking this up quickly."

Dylan gave a small nod of acknowledgment, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself but feeling a spark of pride. As they continued through the lesson, trotting in circles and weaving between markers, he found that the movements came naturally to him. The rest of the group struggled to keep pace at times, but Dylan felt an ease in his control over Willow, as if they were working in sync.

The instructor noticed, too, offering him praise throughout the session. By the time they finished, Dylan was feeling a sense of accomplishment he hadn't expected. The steady rhythm of riding, the connection with the horse, and the freedom of being outdoors—it was a welcome relief from the confines of the school and the constant pressure they were all under.

After dismounting, Dylan led Willow back to the stable, the sound of hooves on gravel filling the quiet evening air. He grabbed a brush from the grooming kit and started gently combing through Willow's mane, taking his time as the others chatted around him. The simple, repetitive motion was soothing, a stark contrast to the intensity of the lessons and classes.

Willow nickered softly, nudging Dylan's arm, and he smiled faintly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting it," he murmured, giving the horse's neck a firm pat.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the stable, Dylan felt a quiet satisfaction settle over him. The day had been long, but it felt like he was finally doing something he could truly enjoy.