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The Carlisle Estate

Part 1: The Carpenter's Wood

The rocking of the cage on uneven ground roused Aspen from his half sleep. He knew where they were. He was here no more than a day ago, and now he was being dragged back. The stallion huffed as he sat in his cage. Him and his so-called friends nailed the Carlisle Estate while the master was out on business. It was a massive score, and they would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for their greedy, back-stabbing, friend. The catch they hid was found, and their friend bribed the guard with half of it and sold out the rest of them. Half of the treasure was more than the slice he was going to get. The only solace Aspen got was that the guard betrayed him once he found out who's estate it was from.

Aspen had to watch as his friends hands were chopped off for thievery, and just before he lost his, he was pulled off to the side. They were surprised at how calloused his hands were. The stallion used to be a carpenter's son, but after their business burnt down he hadn't had much use for those skills, but they still showed.

The stallion looked at his palms, the thick hands almost too big to work wood, but he knew how to shape it better than even his father could. The thick calloused fingers strong and firm despite the months of not having touched more than the errand stick to whittle. What lot of good that'll do with where he was going. He was being brought back to the Carlisle Estate to face judgement at the hand of its Patriarch, Calvin.

The stallion didn't know much about the fat cat, but all the stories about him being a powerful wizard were more than terrifying enough. It must be why his security sucked so much. The man must have known they wouldn't get far.

The light drizzle was warm as it came into his cart, matting his long dark brown mane and fur. The long locks of hair hung over his eyes and the big man pulled his legs close, his hooves scraping against the floor of the iron cart.

He snorted, two streams of droplets flying from his nose as he let the warm rain trickle over his body. Despite the water's temperature, it slowly leached the heat from his body. Normally he would love the rain, revel in it even, but it was almost a grim reminder of exactly where he was headed.

The wheels of the cart splashed in forming puddles as the rain came down harder, growing from a drizzle, to a storm, all the way into a deluge. The water ran in rivulets over his form, accenting the powerful, natural musculature of the stallion. His muscles having been trained by hauling lumber, and toned from the lack of food he had from life as a thief. Aspen shook his main, the water flying as liquid diamonds through the night, catching the light from the lanterns from the carriage that drew his cart.

He didn't even see the walls to the estate until they were right on top of them, the rain making it almost impossible to see anything. The brick dark from drinking in the storm. The next thing he knew he was being yelled at, the door to his cage being flung open and his chains being yanked. He didn't bother reacting until he was pulled. The last time he tried to do anything without being instructed to do so he got his first sting of a whip. His back now bore a crimson gash across it, a perfect mark to signify his disobedience.

Aspen stood and hopped out of the carriage, his body a dripping mess, his hooves sloshing in the mud as he was pulled by much smaller men. He was easily head and shoulders above the rat men that tugged on his restraints. All it would take would be one word and he'd feel the sting of that whip. He dared not do anything to bring that fate upon himself again.

He had taken slivers the size of woodchips to his fingers, hammers to thumbs, even broken limbs from misplaced lumber, but nothing compared to the sting of a whip made of magic designed to make you hurt. He always thought he was tough, but the way he sobbed, the way he screamed when that one lash hit him was a taste of hell that made him worry for his afterlife for the first time. The rest of his buddies didn't put up a fight after that.

He was brought to a stable out front. It was almost comically fitting that the unruly horse was brought to the stables. His chains were strung up. They wanted him to hang, but no matter how high they pulled the restraints, Aspen's hooves stayed planted on the ground. He wanted to crack a joke that he could stoop down for them if it would make this go quicker, but he dare not invoke the ire of that whip again. Once was more than enough for several lifetimes.

The men were cursing and shouting, upset they had to come all this way for some street trash criminal. Aspen wasn't paying much attention, merely following orders as he was left dangling there. That was until he heard one of them speak up.

“I should whip you for making me come all the way back here through the rain," the rat man snarled, his gangly form taking an offensive stance as a string of ruby lightning formed from his hand. The whip forming and caused Aspen to huff. The stallion's muscles flexed, his legs pushing back as he whipped his hair out of his eyes, his very wide and afraid eyes, as the glow of that lightning surged and sparked like an angry viper.

“Yeah, fucking squirm you street trash! At least I'll get to hear your pansy ass scream one more time before I go!"

The rat reeled back. Aspen screamed, his body flailing as he shook against his restraints, his massive biceps flexing, his shoulders straining as his throat wanted to close up in fear and let out a horrified scream at the same time.

Another scream ripped the air that snapped Aspen out of it. It was comical, the massively stacked stallion was hiding behind his biceps, his pecs flexing together to shield his face. He parted his arms to see that the rat was standing there, his black riding cowl soaked, his top that hid his bald spot was on the floor as he cradled his whipping hand. Blood dripped from it, staining his gloves crimson.

“You fucking slave trash!" The rat shouted. “How DARE you raise a hand to me—"

Aspen didn't need to look over to see who he was talking to. No, the other man leapt forward and gripped the man by his throat, lifting him up and silencing him.

“I think Master Carlisle asked you to bring him over unharmed," the man said, his face obscured by an umbrella as it fell to the ground. It rolled out of the way to reveal a hyena. The man had to be no more than a head taller than the rat man, but his powerful frame showed years of dedication to his body. His hair was slicked back, his eyes a piercing yellow that sliced through his nonchalant expression. He was dressed as a butler, his coattails still catching up to him from when he leapt at the rat. His white gloves were pristine and glowed in the low lantern light.

The rat tried to claw at the hand on his throat, the blood from his other hand marring the pristine white of his glove.

“Do you wish to further insult the master of the house by staining my gloves with your unworthy blood? Know that your carriage only requires one man to bring it back. They can always find another slaver to be their gofer."

The rat's eyes widened.

“Good," they hyena slowly lowered the man back down. “Now let me see your hand."

“You piece of filth—hnah!" The rat man shouted as the hyena gripped him by the wrist, the thing that pierced his hand to stop the spell very apparent. It was a knife that one would use to prune a small plant.

“I must advice you to refrain from talking," the hyena urged, his thumb pressing against the wound and causing blood to well up, staining his pristine glove further. “Who knows what might happen if I make a mistake while treating your wound. You might lose a hand. And what good would you be to the slaver's guild with no whipping hand?"

The rat snarled, but stayed quiet. The hyena then gripped the knife and slipped it out, letting it clatter to the ground as he procured bandages from inside his coat and quickly dressed the rat man's wounds.

“There," he said tightening the gauze around his hand, the rat wincing. “Now you best be gone before the master gets here, or he'll brand you too for what you've already done to the man."

The rat's face was beat red, anger barely contained. He spat on the hyena's suite, dirtying it before making his way towards the door. Before he could fully leave, the hyena hand kicked the umbrella up into his hand, closed it, and flipped the hook around to catch one of the rat's legs by the ankle. The man gave a little yelp as he fell face first out of the stable and into the mud.

“If you're still here in the next five minutes, you and your friend will never leave this estate. Now go," the hyena's voice was stern as he cleaned the spit off with a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

“But what of the storm!" The rat snarled.

“It'll pass," the hyena said putting his handkerchief away and taking his blood stained gloves off one finger at a time before dropping them to the floor.

“We could die out in this storm," he hissed back.

“But you will assuredly die if you stay on the estate," the hyena shot back without looking in the man's direction. “Why don't you go brave the storms ire, who is still mulling over your insignificant life and whether it's worth taking the time to snuff it out, instead of wasting your limited breath on me who has already decided your fate?"

“I hope you live long enough for me to make you regret this," the rat man hissed as he scrambled up to his feet.

“With your constant griping, I feel like you already have. I should have only given you one minute. Be grateful you still have four to leave."

With a flurry of curses and the roar of thunder, the rat left the stable.

“Are you hurt?" The hyena asked. Aspen flinched as he felt the hyena's fingers brush over his arm. When he gathered the courage to look the hyena in the eye, he was put at ease and also unnerved at the lack of emotion he had on his face. He had a powerful and sharp jaw, his golden eyes unamused. “Did they cut out your tongue too? Would be a shame that we couldn't keep you because you're dumb."

“N-No," Aspen shuddered. “No I can speak."

For the first time, the hyena showed emotion. It was a smile, but it wasn't warming. Coupled with those half sheathed eyes, the expression left Aspen on edge.

“Good boy," he murred. “Do you have any other wounds? Oh, your back looks like it might be infected." The hyena said as his fingers inquisitively brushed over that wound, a light sting itching at the gash and pulling the blazing hot memory of that whip's sting, still fresh in his mind. “That won't do. Looks like there might be a little rust in there too. From that old cage no doubt. Do you have all your immunizations? Tetanus? Rabies?

“I ain't no dog," Aspen was getting annoyed by the way the hyena spoke to him, but a sudden sting caused the horse to hold his tongue. The hyena pressed a claw into that wound, the scab glistening with fresh blood.

“That attitude won't do," he murred, a smile in his voice. “The master expects obedience in all things, and I'm Master Carlisle's right hand. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer." The hyena's claw started to slip down further, cutting fresh flesh. “Now answer me. Do you have your shots?"

“Yes!" Aspen answered quickly, that claw pulling out before tracing something on his back.

“Good boy," the hyena started. “I think you've earned yourself a little treat with that. How about my name? My name is Gage, what is yours?"

“My name is Aspen Carpenter," the stallion winced when the finger traced over his wound, but it felt almost hot.

“Your last name doesn't mean anything here," Gage said flatly. “If the master deems you worthy, then your first name is all that you'll need."

“Y-Yes sir," Aspen answered.

“Look," Gage cooed. “You're learning already."

Just then the hyena slammed his hand against his back, the rune he traced in blood glowing. Droplets of that blood was running down his back where it ran with the water. At first Aspen thought Gage did something wrong, but then a tingling bled from his hooves up into his body, then it raked across him like it was barbed wire. He screamed as the red lightning from that whip curled up his veins and surged back into his back, curling up into the rune.

“It'll be over soon," Gage smiled, the stallion screaming in pain as it kept getting more intense, his body spasming as it curled up through his toes, crackled through his skull and back out his kidneys. There was a sharp snap of thunder, the sound of that whip striking before the wound sealed back up and a glowing red orb the size of a marble was held in Gage's hand.

“There," Gage nodded. “Not so bad, huh?"

“What the hell! I thought your master didn't want me harmed?"

“That's what I was doing," Gage walked back into view, his golden eyes gleaming as he pulled out a ring of keys. The red light slipped onto the keyring, forming an old iron key with flax of rust on it. “I just pulled the trauma from your back, healed you like it never happened. I just had to pull it out of you the way it came. Though the pain," Gage smirked, pulling the newly added key up to make Aspen look at it. “Now, I can't whip you, or crack your skin, but just know, whenever I want to, whenever I deem it necessary, I can do this."

Gage lifted the key and motioned like he was putting it into a lock. He twisted it and Aspen arched his back in pain, the sting of the whip just a fraction away from tearing his skin apart, the first vestiges of agony worming their way into his flesh.

“That was just a quarter turn," Gage grinned, his eyes focused and sadistic, almost lustfully. “Just imagine if I kept twisting. And twisting."

Aspen got the message loud and clear, the key glowing with the red of an infected wound. That's when he noticed something, he looked down and his eyes went wide. In the butler's pants, a bulge was pressing at his trousers, his cock snaking down his leg and beating against his kneecap. He was getting off on his pain!

“Do you understand?" Gage growled, turning the key ever so slightly and causing pain to rip across his back.

“Yes! Yes Sir!"

“Good," Gage turned the key back, it immediately being lost amongst dozens of others. “Now that we understand each other, why don't we bring the master to take his measure of you." Gage stepped to the barn window and put his hand in front of the lantern a few times, signaling to inside the manner. How they could see it through the storm was a mystery to Aspen. “My tool of choice is pain, but the Master has a very different method of keeping the rest of us underlings in line. Mine might be more effective, but he insists that his is more fun."

Aspen's eyes were wide. The way that Gage said “more fun" sent nauseating shivers down his spine. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? What kind of fucked up place was this?

He didn't have to wait long.

The door to the stable was initially opened with grace, but then torn open by the wind. From the storm a duo of people came in. The first was a cougar with a dignified gate. He wore a cloak for the rain, a simple dress shirt, trousers and riding boots. The other was a tall beefy stallion. His main was black as night, his eyes a light brown. He wore a similar outfit to Gage, but he wore only a thong between his legs and a simple vest with no overcoat. His black fur covered his body but his under belly was a pristine white, his forehead had a white diamond marking as well. The stallion's pecs were thick and rounded out, that thick and powerful cleavage barely contained by that vest. He followed the cougar in, folding up an umbrella and closing the door.

“So this is the thief?" The cougar asked, pulling off his cloak and handing it to Gage who took it without question.

“Yes Master Carlisle," Gage swept some of the rain off the cloak before hanging it on a hook to dry. “At least the only one that met your standards."

That gave Aspen pause. Standards?

“You can drop the formalities Gage," the cougar waived off the hyena's stuffy nature. “When it's just us you call me Calvin."

“Of course Master Carlisle," Gage had a smirk as he went off to the side of the room, folding his hands behind his back.

“You can be quite the handful," Calvin huffed with a smirk before turning to Aspen. “So you wanted to make off with my jewels? Well, you're lucky they were all recovered," Calvin smirked.

Aspen got his first good look at the man. He may have been wearing a normal white dress shirt, but it was filled to the brim, his own thick pecs pushing the laces of the front apart to reveal his cleavage. He was rolling up his sleeves, revealing powerful forearms, his hands strong and thick, his white claws pristine, and a single ring with a brilliant ruby glinted on his middle finger.

“Let's get a good look at you," the cougar smirked, his green eyes gleaming, the feline's ears twitching with anticipation. Aspen glanced over at Gage before answering.

“Yes, Sir…" He answered.

“Good boy," Calvin purred, the sound like rolling thunder. Despite being shorter than the two horses and maybe a hair shorter than the hyena, he still had a powerful, commanding voice. “Gage has already taught you well. Let's start with my favorite part."

The cougar came up to the horse and placed his hands on his pecs, his palms brushing over the wet fur as he gave a light, lusty purr of approval. Aspen flinched at the touch, but let the cougar have his way, a light shock form his nipples being brushed causing him to bite the inside of his lip.

“Already sensitive there? Oh, you'll make a fine addition to the staff," Calvin smirked and continued his assessment. Fingers tracing over matted down chest and pit hair, following the lines of powerful veins up his arms. “Tell me boy, how many years do you have under your belt as a carpenter."

Aspen was silent for a moment, but a flash of the golden eyes of that hyena loosened his tongue.

“Twenty years Sir," Aspen answered. “My father was a carpenter so as soon as I could lift a twig I was helping him craft in the shop."

“My boy, you can't buy that kind of experience," Calvin was circling the stallion like some prowling beast ready to strike. “So how did you happen to come into thievery?"

“My…My father's shop burned down. Their ain't no work if their ain't no shop."

“Very true my boy, very true," Calvin finally finished looking the stallion over and came back into view, snapping his fingers. “Marco, come."

“Yes master," the black and white stallion answered, walking over to Calvin and handing him a long metal pole.

“You see Aspen," Calvin said the stallion's name without needing to be told. “You fit the mold of the ideal servant for my estate. Big, strong, and hot. But it's not enough to just be good looking," Calvin rapt his palm with the pole a few times before giving it a firm grip. “You also need to be talented and gifted."

Calvin moved the pole down between Aspen's legs, smacking his shins to force them apart. The stallion had been trying to keep himself decent by hiding his manhood between his thighs, but the master of the estate wouldn't have it. Aspen's horse cock flopped forward. Completely flaccid and still enough horse meat to put any other man to shame. The shaft was as thick as a normal man's forearm and just as long. The flared head flopped between his knees, his massive nuts the size of oranges rolled low with their weight.

“And you are mighty gifted," Calvin smirked, licking his lips. A nicker and a snort from Marco broke the silence. Aspen looked over to the stallion, his tail hiked, his jaw set and his thick muscled cheeks flexing, but then relaxing into massive globes. It was tough to see from his angle, but he swore he could see the black and white stallion's thong twitch. Something about that thong looked wrong to Aspen though, and it wasn't until he was reminded about his own package that it made sense. That hose may be massive and muscled, but he had to have the smallest prick to have panties that tightly pressed against his groin.

“You're my property now Aspen," Calvin continued. “You were bound for the slave market and I saved you from living a pitiful existence in the mines digging for coal, rotting your potential away in a cell, or most likely being stirruped in some brothel. So, I hope you understand when I say this will hurt, but it's only going to be a fraction of the torment had I not stepped in."

Suddenly energy burned at the tip of that pole, a seal blazed in the air. Instantly Aspen knew what it was. It was a cattle brand.

“Wait!" Aspen's eyes went wide. “I thought you didn't want me hurt?"

“Well, I can't have my property running away, now can I?" Calvin smirked. “Don't worry. All my boys were just as prickly and cold as you before they found their place here on my estate." Calvin stepped forward. “Now, don't make this harder than it has to be."

“Fuck no! You're fucking crazy!" Aspen tried to kick back, his hooves stomping on the ground as he pulled at the chains keeping him tied to the rafters.

“Don't worry," Marcus answered, turning sideways and presenting the side of his cheek. With the black fur, it practically glowed. It was a bright pink brand. It was a circular seal with a C that formed a crooked tree. “It only hurts for a moment."

“You people are fucking crazy!" Aspen huffed and nickered. “I'm not going to let you touch me with that thing."

“Aspen," Gage's voice sliced through the horse's frenzied mind. “Do as Master Carlisle instructs or things are going to get very, very unpleasant."

Aspen looked up at the hyena, he was twirling his ring of keys on a single finger, the various keys jingling like a demented wind chime. The horse froze in panic, but as soon as he did, a searing pain pierced him from his ass cheek. While Gage had him distracted Calvin pressed the brand to his ass. Aspen screamed as his flesh sizzled and popped. There was something more to that brand. He could feel magic weaving its way through him like a thousand stitching needles pulling his veins in different directions. Aspen couldn't move, the feeling was too intense and he almost passed out as it all converged on his forehead. It felt like his head was being cracked open, spilling out as a torrent of power surged from his skull before cycling back in, but not the same as it was before. It felt like someone had shuffled the drawers in his skull, yet he was still the same person.

Then the cattle brand was removed, the burning pain stinging and blistering, but…not as intense.

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