The Copper Horse #1 Fear (34 page)

"You must see him! But... I mean," Reuben's gut clenched with sudden panic. "Don't hurt him."

"I beg your pardon?" Erik shot him a wide-eyed gaze.

"I mean, you seem... you
are
very important in Bylondon, and you like men... and horse things, so I just said that, in case." He looked down into his food, losing his appetite at the mere thought of someone as gorgeous as Percy Preston being brutalized.

Erik shook his head with a grin. "Oh, Copper, do you think that I'm going to turn my house into a stud farm? Besides, I'm not selfish enough to rob the crowds of his talent."

"You robbed London of my pies," Reuben said without resentment. He was relieved his master didn't want any more horses. He wouldn't have as much time for Reuben then.

Erik let his eyes wander over him as he was cleaning his own plate. "What was your specialty?"

"I," Reuben stuttered. Erik had never cared to ask before. "I made these pork pies..."

His master's eyes flickered. "Well, then how about baking one for me sometime? I'm sure Mr. Fry wouldn't mind."

Reuben blinked, taken aback by the idea. "Uhm, you want that? He's probably ten times better at it, anyway." Truth was, Reuben boasted about being a baker, but he was a lousy one. He'd never thought Erik would actually question him about it.

"Oh, Copper, come'ere." Erik reached his hand out in invitation.

Reuben slowly walked away from his feeder, half of his mind occupied by fantasies of pudding. What would he get this time?

Erik flung his arm around his waist and pressed his face into Reuben's side, tickling his ribs with his nose. "I want to try your best pie," he confessed, looking up at Reuben with surprising warmth.

Reuben nodded, unwilling to displease him, but suddenly feeling like crying. What if Erik tasted his pie and then called him a fraud? He didn't want to disappoint! "I'll do my best."

There was a gentle squeeze to his ass. "But no funny ingredients." He was dead serious. "If you try to poison me, you know where your head's gonna go."

Reuben blinked at him in shock, his eyes instantly darting up to Erik's trophies. Just glimpsing them made him feel sick. "I didn't even think it!" He squirmed away and rushed back to his feeder. For Erik, Reuben's life was nothing but a game.

His master eyed him with a soft shrug. "Well, I almost lost my life to one of your predecessors. Better safe than sorry." He gestured at John to bring the pudding.

Reuben looked back at him with a pout he couldn't stop. "How did it happen?"

Erik's eyes narrowed, and he looked away. "I was stupid enough to believe his sweet words. That's that." It seemed even the plate of sweets John placed on the table wouldn't lift his spirits.

Reuben sighed and looked down at the beautiful pile of cream, meringue and raspberries, but those dead eyes up on the wall killed his appetite.

"Even you think I'm a cruel man, so how could I trust you, Copper?" Erik asked matter-of-factly as he gathered some of the pudding with a silver spoon.

"I guess you can't." Reuben almost felt his fake ears slouch to match his mood.

Erik ate his dessert slowly, darting a look toward the feeder every now and then. "Why aren't you eating?"

This was when Reuben reached the boiling point.

"I just can't take it!" He burst out, pointing his chin to the heads on the wall. "They're looking at me all the time and it's making me sick!"

Erik rolled his eyes at his tantrum. "Well, why didn't you say so, Copper?" He left his plate and got up, walking toward the feeder to face him. "You could wear blinders while in here."

Reuben was stunned enough to calm down, but didn't hesitate to look into Erik's eyes. As stupid as it sounded, maybe it could help. "Uhm... I would like that?"

Erik pulled him into an embrace. "We'll use them next time then."

"Hm... Thank you?" Reuben's pulse quickened, and he gathered all his courage to kiss Erik's cheek with his dirty mouth, leaving an unavoidable, creamy stain.

His master chuckled. "I will be waiting for that pie."

Chapter 15

"You seem awfully nervous, Copper." Erik's voice sounded completely out of place in the humble kitchen. He sat in a plush chair, which had been carried downstairs especially for this occasion. All the kitchen staff was sitting by the wall, silently watching Reuben's attempts to bake the perfect pie, and their scrutiny made him flush with embarrassment. It must have been obvious to them what a total fraud he was.

It'd been almost a week since the mention of baking pies, and the topic never came up again until yesterday evening, when Erik told him he made sure to have the whole day to himself so they could have fun. It looked like Erik's idea of fun included being a voyeur in the kitchen.

Reuben had worried so much that he couldn't sleep. He'd never been good at this baking thing, and his father was the one to measure the ingredients because he always messed up the proportions! And after so much boasting about his baker past, he was already ashamed that the pie he was baking would turn out badly. He was sure of it.

"I haven't done this in a long time, Master." He looked into the massive oven again, painfully aware that he was showing off his butt to everyone in the room, as he was only wearing an apron. He didn't understand why Erik chose this particular day to make him wear a tail with a ridiculously thick plug. The way it shifted inside, pressing on Reuben's sweet spot with every move, didn't exactly help him focus. His cock was rock hard beneath the fabric of his apron, which now had several wet spots from the clear fluid dripping out of Reuben's prick.

Jack had been especially thorough with him today and even cleaned his bowels two times as preparation, which left Reuben wondering what his master intended to do to him. Throughout the morning, he'd been subsequently fitted with three tails, the new one always bigger, and now he was working with one that became instantly uncomfortable whenever he bent over. Not that walking was easy either, but Reuben was sort of used to this kind of discomfort by now.

"It's only been a few weeks, don't fret about it." Erik kept dismissing his worries, but it didn't help loosen the knot in Reuben's stomach. Was the timing right? Had he even put in the right ingredients?

"I just don't want you to hate it," he whined uselessly, pacing about like a duck because of the uncomfortable presence in his ass.

The break in daily routine was just as stressful. For the past few weeks, new activities had been introduced, but there was a sense of peace and order. He would eat, he would work, he would get trained in walking, and every other day he got half an hour of walking in what Erik called 'training hooves', the shoes he'd been forced to wear during his punishment at the trestle. And then, there were the even sweeter things: kisses, caresses and getting his brains fucked out in the hay. With the pleasant predictability, life was as good as it got, so change made him more anxious than ever.

"I'm sure I won't hate it. You were a baker all your life!" Erik beamed at him, but the look on Fry's face told Reuben he wasn't doing a decent job. Ollie on the other hand, seemed too busy observing his ass to care about the pie. If Reuben hadn't been so nervous, he'd show the pervert what he thought of his sleazy ways.

"Well... it's almost ready, so—" His breath caught in his throat when he noticed Fry coughing to get his attention. The cook made a discreet shake with his head. "Or maybe we'll give it a few more minutes!" He shut the oven and turned to face Erik, whose face fell.

"How long is it going to take?"

"Uhm... ten more minutes. Maybe." The last word was merely a whisper. God must have abandoned him a long time ago, so there was no use praying for a satisfactory result. He wasn't even sure if he was pale or flushed, but the rock in his throat was making him sick.

"Oh, great, because my stomach is getting upset." His master laughed, oblivious to how much Reuben sympathized with that. He moved in his chair with a pleased expression. "It's been a while since I had pork."

Reuben's eyes went a little wider when he smelled smoke and quickly turned around to open the oven. He gasped with relief when it turned out that only the edges were burnt.

"Will it be crispy?" he heard Erik ask from the other side of the kitchen.

"Oh, definitely! It's the kind of pie with a very crispy top pastry." He'd made that up, trying to go along with whatever came out of the oven. All he wanted was to lean against the wall and repeatedly bang his head against it until he fainted. At least that way he wouldn't see the disappointment in Erik's eyes. Instead, he carefully placed the small, copper mold on a porcelain plate.

"John, give me the lap table, please."

Reuben gulped around the bile in his throat and walked up closer, the tension making him ill. It only got worse when he saw his owner's enthusiastic smile.

"I can't wait to taste it." Erik picked up the cutlery and tapped it against the tiny wooden table in his lap.

Reuben clasped his hands behind his back and waited. And prayed. One could always try.

The kitchen went silent, and the sharp sound of the knife scraping against the mold felt like a death sentence. Erik chopped a bit off with the fork, and Reuben's gaze followed the piece of pastry up as it traveled to Erik's mouth. To him, time slowed down, his heart beating fast like a rabbit's just before slaughter. Then, Erik's eyes became wide, he paled and for a moment, it looked as if he were going to be sick. So was Reuben.

"Uhm... is it that bad?" He felt as useless as ever. The proof was right in front of him. The one thing he'd assisted with all his life and he couldn't even do it right. When Erik spat out the food, his stomach clenched like a dried prune and all he wanted to do was to cover and cry. It felt as if it was him that Erik spat out in disgust, and the muffled laughs from the side distressed him even more.

His master looked up at him, quickly reaching for a glass of water he had on the side. "It's raw," he said, without anger. He looked... surprised.

Reuben couldn't take it anymore, so he quickly hid his face and a broken sob left his throat. Why didn't he have any skills? He couldn't even bake a fucking pie to please Erik. Not even that! The other servants watched him break down, and that made him feel even worse.

"Oh, Copper..." Reuben heard a clatter, and within seconds, Erik slid an arm around his waist. The tenderness was what made Reuben's walls crumble.

"My dad made the recipes," he whined, trying to get a grip on himself. "I dunno how to do this. We didn't even bake pork, it was fucking rat meat!" He sniveled and sank deeper into the comfort of his master's arms. There was no punishment. No punishment, even though he clearly deserved it for both lying and baking possibly the most disgusting pie ever.

"Silly pony, you should have told me. I'm sure Mr. Fry here would have helped you." Erik was gently soothing Reuben with his touch.

"I didn't want to disappoint you." He kept his voice low, so the others wouldn't hear. It was embarrassing for a man to be so eager to please, especially one in his position.

"Darling, you didn't. Oh, you poor thing!" Erik sighed and patted Reuben's cheek affectionately. His eyes, both of them, were warm and accepting when they met Reuben's. "I'll have Mr. Fry teach you, so that you can make up for it. How does that sound?"

"I don't want to! I hated being a baker!" Reuben sniffed once more, strangely relieved by this declaration. At least it was finally out, and it was a damn shame his father couldn't hear it.

"Master, we have some pie left from yesterday." Fry moved closer and smiled in an attempt to calm their master down with
good
food.

Erik sighed and he suddenly squeezed Reuben's prick through the apron, making him get up to his toes with a wail. "You are such a silly pony, Copper."

"I'm sorry." Reuben rubbed his wet eyes before daring to look up at him. Even with the danger of punishment gone, he still felt uneasy about being a disappointment. He never cared about disappointing his father that much. "I thought it would work out somehow."

Erik shook his head, but didn't seem angry at all. "Next time you are uncomfortable with something, just tell me."

"I just—I wanted to be useful..." Reuben trailed off, his chest warming at the idea that Erik wanted him to be content.

"Copper, you are useful, remember?" Erik spoke to him in a gentle voice, petting him in slow movements. "You produce electricity and keep me company."

Reuben smiled at him and nodded, with one last sniff. The visceral reaction he'd had to the failure still surprised him.

"Would someone please give me sugar?" Erik stretched out his hand. Ollie was first to grab some cubes from the sugar bowl, and he handed them to the master.

Reuben sighed and opened his mouth. Even now that his hands were free, he still kept them at his sides as if he knew his master wanted him to. Erik popped the cubes between his lips with a small smile. Never breaking the hug, he took Mr. Fry's pie off the plate handed to him and bit into it, gently stroking Reuben's neck.

"Happy?"

Reuben nodded, relieved that his baking days were over. It was about time.