Mare Training: Warhorse Conditioning
Thump, thump… Sonia's heart hammered against her ribs as if it meant to shatter them. Blindfolded, vision sealed completely shut, waiting for an unknown master — that was the purest form of submission. Dangerous fantasies bloomed in her mind.
"Hup…!?"
Just then, a mare-trading-post clerk spotted the new arrivals and came scrambling over in a flustered rush.
The two porters who had dragged Sonia in shoved her forward by the hips, as if they had rehearsed it — a crude, blatant gesture that said, Take a look at this merchandise first.
"Welcome! Here to see the mares?"
"No. We're not buying — we're selling. A 'friend' recommended this place. Would you mind taking a look?"
In a market, every sale was pure profit. One of the porters, dusting off whatever salesmanship he had picked up along the way, tried to open negotiations.
It was clumsy, amateur work — but instead of calling him out on it, the clerk kept a gentle smile and steered the conversation smoothly toward the goods on offer.
The porter was completely outmatched. When the clerk asked, "So this is the mare you gentlemen brought in?" the man nodded so hard his head nearly came off and blurted, "I'm not sure what we can get for her… we'd really appreciate whatever you can do. Hahaha…!" — practically begging to be lowballed.
His partner just watched with a satisfied look that said, Good thing we left this to him!
The situation was crystal clear. At this rate, Sonia would be sold to the mare trading post, broken in for a new owner, and put on display as merchandise — one step at a time toward that future.
Strangely, what rose in Sonia's chest was not terror so much as a peculiar anticipation, drifting up like fog.
Her worth being appraised, her ownership transferred — all of it happening without her consent. The situation itself stirred the masochistic desire buried deepest inside her, and so for now she simply… watched a little longer. Just a little longer.
"Well then, since we'll be purchasing this mare you brought, would you mind following me? You came on a referral, so of course we'll take a look! Let's start with a test!"
Sonia might have been dense, but she could read a room. That single sentence told her the deal was already done.
They would take whatever was offered and that would be the end of it. Having lost even the will to resist, Sonia decided to simply watch how things unfolded.
(I'm almost curious how hard they'll lowball us at this point… maybe just a little longer…)
Still oblivious to whatever he had said wrong, the porter handed the end of the rope around Sonia's neck to the clerk with a sheepish grin.
The clerk accepted it with the same mild smile. The way he took the lead was as natural as a herdsman leading livestock.
The space he guided them into was, unmistakably, a testing ground for purchasing mares.
It wasn't a full arena, but given that the merchandise was "mares," it was wide enough that a carriage could easily be pulled across it.
At the center stood a magic crystal pillar roughly the size of a person — like a sandbag set upright. The softly glowing column cast a faint light into the surrounding gloom.
(…A crystal? It looks like a magic item, but it doesn't seem dangerous.)
For a fleeting moment, Sonia imagined the crystal might bind her with some strange magical force, or serve as a tool for some horrific procedure performed on mares.
As a D-class hero, her crisis instincts flared and she was a heartbeat away from thrashing with everything she had — when the clerk spoke first. The voice was honey-sweet; the words sent a chill down Sonia's spine.
"Did you know? Racehorses run faster with blinders on. Of course, there's no track here, so it hardly matters — but the old records say they used to put blindfolds on draft horses to make them pull heavier loads."
"That was a long way around to the point!" the clerk added, and then held up a small needle shaped like a fishing hook — not particularly sharp-looking — and stared fixedly at Sonia's chest. The gaze was as relentless and clinical as an appraiser inspecting the quality of goods.
"Hmm… no nipple rings, no piercings… and the outfit is sealed tight with no openings. Nipple rings do make management easier, you know. That's why I checked… but nothing? Do you remember where you picked 'this one' up?"
(N…nipple pier…pi…pi…pie…♡)
It was an open declaration that the price was about to be driven into the ground. Sonia didn't even register the meaning — she was lost in something else entirely. The word management. The image of a piercing driven through her nipples. Just imagining it sent a sharp, electric ache through her lower belly.
Beneath the glossy black training suit, Sonia's nipples swelled and stiffened, rising hard. The change showed clearly through the thin latex, as if advertising her own arousal.
The porters, who possessed neither bargaining skill nor charisma, could only scratch their heads in embarrassment. The clerk clicked his tongue inwardly at the sight, but kept the kindly smile on his face.
"The bust and figure are decent enough — that side of things is fine — but we deal in racehorses here. How about we just run a test and pay you in cash on the spot? Sound good?"
"Oh man… we'd really appreciate that. Right, boss?" "Please take care of us."
The clerk already understood everything. If Sonia had been wearing nipple rings, he didn't even want to imagine what he might have done with that hooked needle.
By proposing cash payment — no transaction record — he confirmed that the porters had simply dragged in a wild mongrel of a horse. Now it was time to run a horsepower test on this scrap. Of course, with looks like that she could still be sold for cosplay play, but there was no way to buy her at a proper price.
"She's got a pretty gait. 'A little rough since she hasn't been trained, but…' Look at how she holds her chest and head up so proudly. 'It'll take some time to teach her, but…' With proper training, she should turn out fine. Does the mare have a name?"
"Well… we just grabbed her, so… do whatever seems right. Better without a name, don't you think? Haha…"
At the porter's open admission that she was a mongrel mare, the only thought filling the clerk's head was How hard should I lowball this?
Since they had agreed on a test, the clerk ordered Sonia to kick the power-testing crystal pillar — speaking as if coaxing a pet.
"There now… give that shiny thing over there a good hard kick. You can do that, can't you?"
Stroke, stroke… The clerk gently tickled the second pair of ears sprouting from Sonia's golden hair — the headband left behind by the Horse Spirit. Sonia flinched at the touch before she could stop herself.
(…What… is he doing… right now…)
The words directed at her were so absurd that Sonia stood frozen for a moment, blank.
Then the clerk gave her bare bottom — left fully exposed by the leotard-style training suit the Horse Spirit had left her — an encouraging slap that cracked through the quiet space.
(A test… I am a little curious…? Luce said the Adventurers' Guild has magic items that show your level and experience when you touch them…)
Sonia put a moderate amount of force into it and kicked the crystal standing like a sandbag with a solid thud. A dull impact rang out, and two white digits appeared on the glittering surface: 25.
(Twenty… five…? Is that high or low… I don't know…)
Tests of this kind were tacitly scored out of a hundred. Sonia assumed it was a low score — and the same naked disappointment began to show on the faces of the porters and the clerk.
"Please, absolutely do not go around talking about this. Gentlemen…? I'm begging you…! Here…"
An envelope stuffed with the payment for an unnamed wild mare was carefully handed to the two men. The clerk leaned in and whispered confidentially as he passed it over.
"Out of a hundred… twenty-five. We'll have to train her from scratch. And buy all the gear piece by piece to fit her. That bust size… you know how it is."
"We'd be grateful if you remembered us next time!" The experienced clerk didn't forget the closing courtesy.
"Of course. We were never here."
"Well… don't you worry… good luck with the business."
In truth, these two porters were no strangers to hard knocks. They knew perfectly well how badly the cash envelope — "two months' living expenses" — had been lowballed.
They took it anyway, figuring it would be the same wherever they went. For men who had only meant to dig up a few herbs for a weekend family outing, two months' living expenses was a windfall. They felt like kissing the twenty-five-out-of-a-hundred wild mare.
They gave not a thought to their other companions, who by now were probably lying unconscious in the mountains with their pockets cleaned out. The two porters exchanged hollow pleasantries — "We should grab a meal sometime" and "We'll be counting on you then" — and vanished without a second glance into the night market crowd.