It was just like any other day where Paul would sit on the pile of hay at three in the afternoon after a long day of work, a can of beer on his hand, and stare in daze as life carries on while his felt static. Unmovable. His world seemed to stop turning when he had finally earned his freedom twelve years ago.
"Do it, or your dear Mary will suffer."
Paul's throat convulsed when that deep, harsh voice suddenly penetrated his vulnerable thoughts, drumming a hard beat on his heart. He took a swig of his drink, as if that could drown the bile that was threatening to choke him.
After all these years...
He had already left that life—that three years of dehumanizing torture and immorality inflicted on him by his own father. At 32, he's now married to a beautiful woman. He managed his own ranch and even named as one of the successful horse breeder in town.
And yet, he wasn't happy. He couldn't even keep his wife happy. Four years of marriage yet they don't have children of their own.
Now, as he sat there, he's thoughts wandered off if it had been wise to marry Linda. She knew about his hideous past and everything he had suffered from his cruel father when he was seventeen. Yet she had embraced him. Completely.
How she ever accepted him, he couldn't fathom. If he was her, he would've been disgusted to himself.
Paul brought the can to his lips and drank from it greedily, staving the depressing memory deep into the recesses of his mind. But the alcohol had already gotten into his head, weakening his resolve and he's far too late to shut the lid down before the memory burst inside him.
The night air was harshly cold on his naked, pale skin. He should've left when he had the chance to run away. But he couldn't leave Mary.
"Quick, boy!"
He almost jumped when his drunken father slashed his whip on the ground. Mary whined, stomping her hoof on the ground. He knew she's scared as he was. But she would surely die if she continued to struggle.
Paul stroked her withers, petted her forehead down to her muzzle to calm her down. They've done this before, many times, when his father was intoxicated with alcohol. Tonight, they would try to survive again.
Soon, he felt Mary calm down as he continued stroking her. He moved behind her while caressing her flanks, easing her anxiety as well as his. Mary was used to this, as long as it's him and nobody else touches her. She trusted him.
"Hurry, boy," his father grumbled impatiently.
His knees trembled. He must not stoke his father's irritation because his rage was more uncontrollable when he's drunk and Paul was afraid he'd hurt Mary and him.
The smell of hay and barley helped him to placate his erratic heartbeat. Right now, he could only trust Mary and rely on her strength.
When she stopped moving, he gripped her croup and gently spread her buttocks in his view. Paul could see his father unbuckling his own belt while he pushed one gentle finger inside Mary's hole, massaging it carefully, gauging her reaction. She wasn't moving, as if telling him she's okay and ready.
"Do it now, boy!" his father gnarled in haste as he stroke himself with his hand.
Paul forced down the sense of panic rising in his throat and focused on Mary. He absorbed the softness of her skin against his thighs as he positioned himself on her damp hole and in one fluid motion, he eased forward, entering her.
