A Small Piece of Heaven - Part 4

Treize was riding one of his favorite mounts, an Andalusian of rare black color. (1) The stallion was an excellent jumper and the duke's most decorated show-horse. But he was also known to be rather headstrong at times. The gray gelding the ex-colonel had chosen for Milliardo was a little less temperamental.

The two riders headed north, to an area of Treize's property, which was used mainly as a year around pasture. The ex-colonel needed to check up on a yearling that had been treated for a leg injury earlier that week, and he decided that it was a great opportunity to show his new slave that part of his estate.
It was a rather quiet ride, although it was not for Treize's lack of trying to strike a conversation. Milliardo barely spoke unless he was asked a question. And even then his answers came hesitant, as though he was afraid to say the wrong thing. The young man rode about a horse-length behind the ex-colonel and not once made direct eye contact with his master. Treize sighed silently. It would take a lot of time and patience to break the young man's training.
At one point however, when the duke looked back over his shoulder, he was surprised to see a faint smile on Milliardo's face.
"Penny for your thoughts."

"I beg your pardon, Master?" the young slave asked puzzled, the smile gone.
"What were you thinking about? You were smiling, so I assume it were pleasant thoughts."
"Just memories, Master."

"I see." So your life has not been always bad. There has been a time you actually look back upon with joy. That's nice to know. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Milliardo?" Treize suggested.
"I'm not sure what you want to hear, Master. There is really not much to tell about," the young man answered evasively.
"Well, there has got to be something. Do you know to write and read? Have you received any kind of education?" Treize asked. He had found Milliardo to be a very intelligent young man and he wondered if anybody else had noticed that too and cared enough to have him schooled.

Milliardo nodded. "I was tutored for a few years. But once it was decided that I was going to be trained to become a pleasure slave my master didn't waste any more time with what he considered useless skills for a sex slave." There was the faintest hint of bitterness in the young man's voice, but it didn't escape Treize. Considering the blond's good looks that decision was probably made early on in his life. How early, the ex-colonel didn't even want to think about.
"I think we should pick up on that. A good education can be beneficial even if you a slave. You are only seventeen. Who knows what is going to happen in a few years from now…"
"I'm nineteen, " Milliardo corrected.
His master gave him a surprised look. "Your S.A.U. file said you were born in April 178AC. If my mathematics skills serve me right that would make you seventeen years and six months."
Milliardo made a noise that sounded almost like a snort. "Those files are full of errors. Many masters tamper with the information. Especially when it comes to a slave's age."
Treize knew what the young man was talking about. It was the sad truth that a sex slave's value dropped drastically once he or she reached a certain age.
A few minutes later the two riders reached the gate to the pasture. They dismounted and left their horses tethered up outside the gate. The herd, colts and fillies born during the previous breeding season, was grazing peacefully, showing little interest in the two men.
The ex-colonel pulled a halter and a bag of carrot pieces from his saddlebag. He noticed that Milliardo was watching him curiously as he approached the herd. Treize easily found the young colt he was looking for. While he lured the animal with treats and calm words he put the halter on him with the ease of somebody who had done it many times before.
"Would you give me a hand with this?" he asked the blond slave.
"Yes, of course, Master. What is it you want me to do?"
"I need for you to hold him for a moment, so that I can take a better look at his leg."
Milliardo nodded. While he held the yearling his master started carefully to feel and probe the animal's right hind-leg. Treize couldn't feel any swelling or hardened muscles under his skilled fingertips. He noted with satisfaction that the colt didn't even flinch when he touched him. Everything looked fine, but just to make sure Treize asked Milliardo to walk and then run with the colt while he observed his gate. When he didn't see any sign of a limp the ex-colonel was satisfied.
"Looks like his leg is fully healed." He gave the animal another handful of carrot pieces before slipping off the halter.
"How…" Milliardo begun to speak, then hesitated.
"Yes?" Treize looked at the younger man.
"How did he get hurt?"
His master shrugged. "We are not quite sure really. One of the stable-hands noticed that he was limping last week but nobody really saw what happened. But at this age especially the colts tend to roughhouse and show off in front of each other. A pulled muscle or some scratches happen every once in a while. That's why we keep a close eye on them even if they are out here."
"How many are there?" Milliardo asked as he let his gaze wander.
"Twenty-eight," Treize replied.
"Are you keeping them all, Master?"
"No, most of those will be sold this winter. A few of the colts will stay to be trained and sold later."
After the two men fed the remaining treats to the rest of the herd the duke looked up to the sky.
"I think it's time to head back home," he suggested. "I would like to reach the stables before it gets dark."

*****

The two riders dismounted outside the stables. As they turned their horses over to two stable-hands to be unsaddled and dried off, a tall man with short-cropped graying hair approached them. Milliardo remembered meeting him earlier. His name was Martin and he was the stable master. The man had a broad smile on his face.
"Your Excellency, I just wanted to let you know that Iberia foaled about half an hour ago."
"Oh, she did? Did everything go well?"
Martin nodded. "No problems at all. Both, mother and foal are fine. And by the way, it's a colt, you were right, Sir. "
"I'm always right," Treize answered smugly.

The stable master laughed. "Yes, I suppose I should know better than to bet against you. Oh yeah, it looks like he might be black."
"Excellent! Now that would be something. Two stallions sired by Navar and both black." The duke gazed over his shoulder at his slave. "Come on Milliardo; let's go see the new foal."
The moment they walked into the building Milliardo could tell that this wasn't an ordinary stable. The stalls were larger and impeccably clean, it was quiet and the even the lights were lowered to keep stress and tension for the "expecting mothers" at a minimum. Only a few selected workers were allowed to enter this stable.
Treize led them to a stall on the right. Above the door was a small black board on which somebody had written the name of the mare; Iberia.
Iberia was tall for an Andalusian. She was gray with dark dapples on her hind legs and a beautifully formed neck. Her mane and tail shimmered like silvery white silk. Although she seemed preoccupied with drying off her newborn foal she was very vigilant to everything around her. Her ears were moving constantly, listening for any sound of danger. The three men approaching her enclosure didn't escape her watchful eye. She positioned herself between them and the foal, neck stretched, ears laid back, warning them not to come any closer. When the men didn't make any attempt to enter her stall the mare decided that her scare tactics had worked and went back to cleaning her offspring.

Milliardo squatted down and watched as the dark bundle in the straw slowly begun to untangle its long limbs. He had never seen anything like it before.

It didn't very take long until the foal couldn't resist the temptation of trying to put his legs to use for the first time. At first he had trouble supporting his own weight on those slender limbs, but after a few tries he was able to stand on all four.

He took a couple of cautious steps, shaky and slow at first, but grew bolder with every passing minute. Exercise makes hungry and soon the little guy began to search for the lavish supply of milk, which he knew instinctively, had to be somewhere on his mother's body. The bigger problem was finding it. With never-ending patience Iberia nudge him gently until he was able to discover the source. Now that the little colt was on his feet his mother seemed to be a little more relaxed.

Treize smiled to himself, at Milliardo's wide-eyed, wondrous expression. "It's beautiful to watch, isn't it?" he whispered.
The blond nodded.

The duke turned toward his stable-master. "Let's tag him while we are here."
Martin disappeared for a moment and when he came back he was holding a small device about the size and shape of a syringe.
"Do you want to help me for a moment and hold the foal, Milliardo?" Treize asked as he opened the door to the enclosure.

"What are you going to do?" the blond slave asked curiously.

"Fit him with his ID chip," the duke explained.

"Like the one in my collar?"

"Yes," Treize confirmed. "Pretty much the same. Only in his case it's implanted under his skin. Each horse gets one soon after they are born."

Milliardo frowned. "Won't it hurt him?"
The duke smiled. "Don't worry; he will barely feel the prick with the needle. The chip is no larger than a grain of rice really, and he will never notice it is there."

***

About an hour later, when they returned from the stables, Evans greeted the ex-colonel in the hall.

"I hope you had a pleasant afternoon, your Excellency," the gray-haired man bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Evans, I truly did."

"When would you like me to serve dinner, Sir?"

"If it is ready you may begin right now. I'm starving and I'm sure so is Milliardo," Treize replied. He turned toward the blond slave and told him to get cleaned up and meet him in the dining room afterward.
Milliardo nodded and walked upstairs to his bathroom. When he returned his master was already waiting.
"Come in and sit down, Milliardo," he told the younger man as he hesitated at door to the dining room.
Sit down? Where? He can't possible want to sit together with me at the same table.
Milliardo looked around but didn't move.
"Milliardo," his master looked at him, brows furrowed. "Are you listening?"
The blond slave swallowed as he gazed back at him, confusion and alarm in his eyes. "Yes, Master. I just…?"
Please don't get angry. I want to please you, but I don't understand what you want me to do.
"Perhaps I should show you to your seat." Evans touched the young man on his shoulder, gesturing for Milliardo to follow him. He pulled out a chair across from the duke and the blond slave sat down.
"Thank you, Evans," Treize gave the butler an appreciative nod.

"My pleasure, Sir."
Milliardo stared at the plates and platters on the table, marveling about the generous amount, and variety of food. It seemed more than enough to feed ten people. Evans first served the master before coming around and filling Milliardo's plate. Everything tasted delicious. The roast was juicy and thick, and even the vegetables tasted better than he thought vegetables could ever taste.

****

When they had finished their meal the ex-colonel gestured the butler to clear the table. "Evans, please let Anna know that the food was delicious as usually."

"I'll gladly do that, Sir. Would you like me to serve dessert now?" the man asked as he took away the last plates.

"I think we will wait a while and have it later in the living room," the duke man answered. He put his napkin down and looked up at Milliardo. "Do you play chess?"
"No, Master, I'm afraid I don't."

Another one of those skills considered useless for a pleasure slave, I suppose, Treize thought, feeling anger about the fact that there were so many things Milliardo had been denied until now. But that was going to change. "That's alright. I'll teach you."

They retreated into the living room where Treize set up the chessboard. He was pleasantly surprised how quickly Milliardo picked up the rules and basics of the game. Just when they were about to play a practice match the butler walked into the room.

"What is it, Evans?" the duke asked.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, your Excellency," the man said. "There is a phone call for you."
Treize nodded. "Thank you. I'll take it in my office." He turned to Milliardo as he rose from his chair. "I'll be back in a moment."

In the end the call took a lot longer than expected and when the duke walked back into the living room he found his slave curled up in his chair, asleep.

Poor guy, Treize thought. It's been a busy day. I suppose it tired him out more than I thought.

He walked over to the young man, touching his shoulder lightly. "Milliardo."

Milliardo jerked up, a sparkle of panic in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's okay," Treize assured him softly. "I should have known that you would be exhausted after a day like this. Let's get you to bed. We will have time to finish this game some other day."

_________________________________________________________ ________________________________

T.B.C.

Author's Note:

(1) Most horses that look black are actually not really true blacks. Many of them are dark brown or greys that will change color as they age. In Andalusians the black color is even rarer than in many other breeds (only about 5%).

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