In Roan by Miss Irene Clearmont

Book Details

In Roan – Covering just a couple of months in April and May, this novel takes the reader to the third Domain to be showcased. Set a while after the previous two volumes, we get the chance to see how the Domains are developing, mainly through the eyes of the Mistresses and their tormented pleasure-slaves.

Roan Domain, the wide meadows, the pampas and the clop of stallions, mares and fillies. Stables, farm and parlours, Roan has it all, and is explored in day-to-day detail. It is a place where fantasies come true in so many ways. Where men are stallions and fillies, women ride or become mares and a perfect vacation is to be found for those that love to have a strong thoroughbred between their thighs or a pair between the shafts.

As the guests indulge their fantasies. Midnight visits to the stables, hunting and picnics, affairs of the heart and learning new skills, events in the background are now moving towards a climax. There is a spy in the Domains that needs to be discovered and expunged. A visit from three disturbing Korean slavers is in train, where diplomacy needs to be subtle and negotiations are delicate. Moreover, there is Presidential hopeful Barrington and his ambitions that need to be taken into account as the wider plot starts to move to the fore.

Mistress Isabella who runs Roan moves between one crisis and another, proving how it is that she is Veronica’s most trusted lieutenant. Organising, manoeuvring, administrating, coaxing and punishing, making the guest’s experience a seamless and exciting event. Enjoy the atmosphere, the indulgence, the servitude and the terror of a visit to the Roan Domain…

Novel cover-art commissioned from Sardax…

F/f, Pony, Riding Fetish, F/m, F/fm, Revenge, Caging, BDSM, Corporal, Slave, Humiliation, Modification.

Strength 8/10 – 44,000 Words

Written 2018 Re-edit 2022

Excerpt: In Roan

In Roan (Pt 3 of the Domains Series)

Beginning the Day. April 2038 Early Morning

The first rays of the sun cast long shadows across the courtyard. Burning away the last damp cobwebs of the humid night, rustling the few leaves of the Amarelo tree and heralding a new day. Heavy yellow blossom and a fragrance that filled the morning air with an aromatic, redolent sweetness. In an hour or so, the wood-cobbled square between the stables would resound to the click of heels and hooves, the sigh of buggy wheels and the chattering female voices of the riders. But, for now, a single figure surveyed the quiet scene and stood content as she noted the first few April- leaves amongst the blossom and considered the program for the day.

There was much to do, to prepare for the next round of guests but this was a moment of tranquillity at the beginning of each day that could be appreciated and savoured without the cares and responsibilities having to be considered. Soon the stable-mistresses would present themselves for inspection and the work would start, the preparation for the day would begin and Roan Domain would become the sexual fantasy that the guests had paid so much to experience.

She leaned against the smooth bark of the Amarelo tree and lit a cigarette. A plume of smoke was swept away by the waft of the warm breeze and she sighed in contentment. These were the moments to be treasured, up at dawn, alone with her thoughts and that first cigarette that soothed and set her in the mood for the day to come.

Isabella, actually Mistress Isabella, queen of all that she surveyed! The butt of the cigarette was discarded, and a stack-heeled riding boot crushed it into the ground at her feet. She stooped and tightened the laces of her boots. Working from toes to knees, pulling them tight and re-tying the bow with fastidious attention to detail. It was a uniform that proclaimed her status, tight jodhpurs and the flared black bolero jacket. Frills and a loose bow of silk, feminine ruffles combined with severe costume. A short whip that coiled at her hip, a plait coiled around her head binding her hair tight and, dangling from her wrist, a braided crop that was her preferred badge of office and the filigree gold collar that was the final symbol of her status.

Mistress Isabella sighed, the fleeting moment was over. Duty called, it was time to consider her strategy… The coming week would be critical, her mistress depended on her shrewdness to create the correct ambience for the visiting VIPs. To inflame their instincts and encourage them to negotiate. Some sacrifice was always needed, and Mistress Isabella had already decided whom it was to be. Actually, there was no choice to make at all, the victim was chosen, revenge would be so honey sweet. There were always winners and deserving losers and Mistress Isabella had been given the duty of deciding how to deal with the foolish double agent in their midst.

How could any woman betray their cause?

She glanced around at the courtyard and then at the blossom on high. That would come later, decided Mistress Isabella. One thing at a time. It was time to start the day… as she always did.

She followed her usual routine, nothing would betray her fury at the treachery of one who had formerly enjoyed the trust and confidence of the Domains. An inspection of the stables to be followed by a review of the women who would prepare the day’s enjoyment for the guests. Attention to detail, every brass polished, every feather in the harness perfect, every desire satisfied and gratified. This was her work, her passion and her obsession. Competence, the reason that she had been entrusted with the most complex of all of the Domains to be created. Twenty years of

experience and decisions, but not a line of care showed in bearing or face. The Domains looked after their own… whatever the cost.

Stable-mistress Isabella enjoyed the sound of her heels on the wooden blocks that made up the vast enclosed parade-ground. A steady clack that gave rhythm to the train of her thoughts. Stables, parlour and carriage store, it was all under her complete control and the management of every detail gave her a thrill of satisfaction. The gold collar that proclaimed that power a badge of honour.

First, always the tack-room. Mistress Isabella swung the door open and nodded an acknowledgement to the young woman who was quietly ensuring that all was ready for the coming day. Directing the harnessed slave who was replacing the black ostrich feathers in the harnesses, combing them carefully and dusting the tackle that held them in place. The smell of lacquer pervaded the large room, the carriage currently being serviced, dissembled into its component parts. Rows of saddles, harness, restraints and reins were neatly displayed in rows on the far wall and all seemed in order.

‘The Brougham will be required by ten, and then tomorrow as well,’ said Mistress Isabella to the girl that was examining a harness and polishing the brass fittings. ‘Make sure that it is perfect… I’ll speak to Mistress Claudia.’

‘Mistress!’ replied the supervisor with a small nod. ‘Stallions or fillies?’ ‘Stallions, it’s for a tour,’ replied Mistress Isabella. ‘Tomorrow the picnic.’ ‘By ten… Mistress!’

Mistress Isabella watched the blinkered slave carefully preening the feathers and noted that his required erection was nicely in view and nodded to the supervisor as an acknowledgement that she approved of the work. Every detail in place as it should be…

Satisfied, Mistress Isabella strolled to the door and gave a last look at the room before stepping into the parade ground to see that, already, the stable Mistresses were gathering for their inspection before the day could properly begin. At her appearance the chattering and laughing women formed themselves into a semblance of order. These were the women that Mistress Isabella ruled over, the women that ensured that the Roan Domain functioned like clockwork, just as it should. A place where guests could click their fingers to enjoy the recreation that they richly deserved.

Her heels clicked on the cobbles, and a few of the Mistresses stood just a little straighter. Strict discipline combined with the freedom to make decisions, a subtle combination that was Mistress Isabella’s speciality. All seemed in order, boots polished, uniforms pressed and neat, collars straight and make-up properly applied. Each of these women had their own personal slave to attend to their needs, there was no excuse for laxity! Mistress Isabella exchanged a few words with the supervisors, giving the orders of the day before she turned to address them as a group.

‘Ladies!’ she said. ‘On the agenda for today, a visit by the personal guests of the directors, seven new silver guests to be inducted, the preparation for tomorrow’s Tuesday forest-picnic and of course the covering of the mares for the new guests.’

The attentive women took it all in, waiting to see which of them would be assigned special duties. ‘Mistress Claudia, Mistress Hermione, to me. Let’s start the weekly inspection of the stables…’ The two women who answered the call moved to flank their mistress and Mistress Isabella gave a small movement of her crop to indicate that the morning roll-call was complete.

‘We need to discuss some other details as well,’ said Mistress Isabella as she walked to the low building that flanked the piazza. ‘The fitting of the new parlour will be completed in the next week, and we need to consider moving the stock in the next few days. We’ll meet up tonight and go through the list in detail…’

‘I’ve already updated the inventory,’ said the redheaded Mistress who walked to her left. ‘There are eighty-three stock, of which thirty are suitable to be moved…’

‘Really, so many?’

‘I am only disposing of those that are at the end of their use as per payee instructions,’ said Mistress Claudia with a little shake of her long red hair. ‘Since we will soon have room for over two hundred, we can delay decisions on the others as we add to the inventory.’

‘Excellent, tonight we’ll go through it and consider each case. It’s important as it is a major revenue source… and a special service as well,’ she laughed.

Mistress Isabella nodded and stopped as the three women came to the doors of the stables. Created in purple-heart wood, a timber with such an wonderfully appropriate name: purple, the colour of suffering passion. The stable-mistress standing by the door slid the bolts and the three women entered the humid environment of the stables. The chime of a bell rang out warning the stock to present themselves for inspection. The long low room was divided into caged stalls, each with their occupant standing by the bars at the front of their hay-strewn stall.

‘Just an overall appraisal of condition and the new stock, please,’ said Mistress Isabella to Mistress Claudia. ‘Keep it short!’

Mistress Claudia smiled and tapped her crop on the bars of the first stall. ‘No particular problems as to condition at the moment. We have eighty-one available for use in all. Thirty-eight stallions, ten filly-geldings, ten mares, sixteen fillies, four steeds and three mules. On top of that, we have: six reserved for gold collared guests, four new intake to be decided, two mares carrying and the four teams reserved for the farm… though of course they will be gone by the time that we move.’

Mistress Isabella looked down the long rows of stalls and nodded in satisfaction. Mistress Claudia had the facts and figures at her fingertips as always, eager to show her Mistress that she was in complete control of her area. ‘Good, let’s take a look at the new intake and then we can discuss the expansion in detail. Mistress Hermione, if you please!’

‘This way, please’ answered the tall blonde mistress.

She led the stable-mistress and Mistress Isabella down the passage between the stalls, rattling her crop on the bars as she went. ‘This is the first,’ she said as she stopped at a stall perhaps half way to the end. ‘Acquired in Mexico a week ago….’

The muscular man stood by the bars of the stall and the three women inspected him as Mistress Hermione elaborated on the details. His face was set in a hard dislike and he watched the three women with obvious hatred.

‘Age, twenty-three, sold to us by the Sonora Cartel, this is the only one that was not taken to order by our own people. Unfortunately, as you can see,’ she said as she moved the tip of the crop to his chest, ‘heavily tattooed and something that would not be at all attractive in harness. Mistress Claudia has decided to assign it to the farm teams. It will act as a replacement for one of the other stock. Suitable for heavy work only…’

Excerpt from: In Roan