His House of Submission (House of Submission 1)

‘So … are we both going on the same horse? Or …?’

‘What’s going to happen, Sarah, is that you are my stable girl, and you’re going to saddle and bridle my horse. Of course, since you’re very inexperienced, I’ve no doubt you’ll make a horrible mess of it. Oh dear.’

He waved at some harness-type stuff, hanging on pegs.

‘Give it your best shot,’ he said, retiring to sit cross-legged on a hay bale.

‘What if it kicks me?’ I asked dubiously.

‘Stay near his head. You’ll be fine.’

I had all kinds of reservations about this, but I took the tack from the pegs, buckling slightly under its unexpected weight, and carried it into the stall.

‘Hi, horse,’ I said warily. ‘We’re going to be friends, aren’t we?’ I put my hand on his face, trying not to transmit waves of fear to him.

Where to start? I picked up the saddle and sort of hoisted it over the horse’s back. He was surprisingly docile about it all and made no attempt to rear up and kick me in the eye. But I was supposed to fasten it underneath. It all seemed much too risky and complicated. I tried to reach for the straps, but with each attempt I found myself shying away at the last minute.

Jasper, on his hay bale, laughed and tapped the crop against his calf.

I thought perhaps I’d leave that until later, and picked up the bridle instead. Oh, God. This thing was way, way too complicated. How did it fit? How did one put it on? I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to slide it over the horse’s ears, but he wasn’t keen and kept tossing his head. After the fifth attempt, Jasper lost patience and came to join me.

‘They said you knew how to tack up a horse,’ he said, finishing off the job himself while I slumped against the stable door. ‘What’s this supposed to be?’

‘Sorry, Sir.’

‘I should think so. Your reference was good. Did you forge it?’

‘No!’

‘I’m going to call Mrs Horse-Whisperer and ask her over the phone.’

‘Oh, no, don’t do that,’ I said, cottoning on to the scene.

‘Why not?’ He paused in the straightening of the harness and gave me a hard stare.

‘Because … because … she’s on holiday.’

‘No, she isn’t.’

‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ I mumbled.

‘So you did forge it?’

I nodded, kicking my heel against the stable door.

He finished with the bridle before saying, ‘I see. Why?’

‘Needed a job, Sir.’

‘A job you aren’t qualified to do.’

‘I can learn.’

‘Yes.’ He looked up from fiddling with the saddle strap. ‘Yes, you can learn. And you will learn. You’ll learn what happens to little liars.’

‘Oh, please don’t sack me!’

‘I’m not