This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
****
Training Her Slut-Stallion
What to do, what to do... There were so many things for a mistress when time allowed and Amethyst, the red-chestnut mare, finally had the time to plan as she willed. That was why the equine had everything ready, walking at a slow, deliberate clip-clop through the play room, the hard wood floors much better than poured rubber for showing off the smart ring of her hooves through the room. There was nothing to stop her, nothing to hold her back, and nothing but time to tease abuse her sweet little colt of a stallion over and over again until he begged for mercy.
Wasn't that all that she needed to do?
The mistress mare surveyed her handiwork, the play room set out just as she'd liked it. They'd collected a fair amount of bondage furniture and other devices over the years and it had been polished last by her pet's paw, under her expert eye. A St Andrew's cross had been an old favourite along with a spanking bench, but it was the horizontal X-frame, nicely padded, that had come into use the most, keeping him nicely prone while she did all manner of despicable things to him. Hot wax, edging, e-stim, nipple clamps, sitting on his muzzle... She licked her lips, chuckling softly to herself. Yes, that last one was a particularly fond activity.
The walls too held Amethyst's pride and collection of toys and implements of lust, crops and floggers displayed beside dildos of every size. There were Ben-Wa balls too and vibrating eggs, things that could be used to tease such a pony-pet out in public too, though it was the chastity device that gleamed and caught her eye at that very moment, sitting all on its own on a plush, velvet podium.
Her fingers brushed it reverently and the horse blew softly through her nostrils. To have him locked up again would be a pleasure indeed... Before the night was out, he would feel the weight of it, all that that cage implied and all the pleasures that it held too.
She inhaled slowly and deeply, the faint scent of something spicy, a new aroma that the play room had been infiltrated with, tickling her nostrils. Even her attire was new, purchased from her favourite speciality fetish shop where everything had been tailored perfectly to fit her, a red and black corset pushing up under her bust to best show off her small, perky breasts. The nipples, of course, had to remain on show and were bare as they should be with her, picking up lightly in the cooler air of the play room. She knew for herself just how warm it was going to be in there later on and that was just why she'd ensured to dress lightly.
The long, latex boots reaching up her legs, laced tightly but leaving her hooves exposed, were not light, however, but deviously shiny, gleaming in the low light. They highlighted the curve of her fetlocks and calves perfectly, drawing the eye up to where they ended on her mid-thigh, the latex underwear finally meeting the crux of the ensemble. They were special, those ones were, appearing to be just like any other Brazilian cut brief, however kinky, on a first glance. On a closer look, however, they revealed a slit in the middle that could easily expose her pussy and tail hole to the wanton tongue of an eager sub simply dying to get his tongue up right where it belonged.
Her mane did not fall in a sleek curtain down her neck either, braided down the line of her neck in tight, severe bunches of braids, which added an extra arch to the crest of her neck, almost giving her a stallion-like appearance in that regard. Her tail too was braided with the hairs pulled away from the dock so that her buttocks were on full display, showing off everything that she had to offer and yet still not would give to her submissive colt, merely a tease for what could have been his if he was not already on his knees.
It was perfect. Everything was perfect.
Now all she had to do was wait.
And she could take her time with that too, seating herself in a crimson, velvet chair that could only possibly be described as a throne, comfortably positioned with a glass of red wine set beside her already. It had been decanted and had time to breathe but the only problem there was that it had not been poured from the paw of her slave-colt, the one that had been, oh, how could she put it? Perhaps 'slacking' would be the right word?
She could fix that. Her eyes danced, sipping at the wine, the colour remaining lightly on her lips even when the glass had left it. She could very easily fix that.
Her pet colt's hooves rang through, entering the house, a sound that she had made sure would carry as she had left all the doors leading upstairs to the play room open. He would find her, she was sure of that, but how swiftly his inquisitive nature would lead him to her was another question entirely.
A little more wine. Something just to ready herself, to wet her palette, a flirt of oak spilling over her tongue. The mare groaned softly to herself, appreciating it more in the prelude to something just as richly exotic.
He could not fail to find her, ascending the stairs, her heart lifting, beating a little quicker. Even her sex, the folds tucked up between her legs, dampened a little, though even donning such lingerie and gear often had her rising to the occasion, her body responding eagerly, the lust of it all teasing through. There wasn't enough time to really enjoy herself at most times, even though their relationship was firmly bound in the unconventional nuances of power play, lending a sacredly erotic air to the time that they did get together to explore and push past boundaries to fresh heights of pleasure.
Oh, did she have so very much in store for her colt that evening... And there was no one to disturb them.
Finally, Madoc rounded the door, stopping dead in his tracks with his nostrils sharply flared, a dappled grey stud of a horse that was lightly defined with muscle. He could not help but be and she smirked as her eyes roamed his form, those broad shoulders and the tuck of his waist, everything just as it needed to be on his body. His face was dished around the cheek and, even after a full day of work, his forelock gleamed as it hung down his face, his green eyes soft and yearning even as the stallion let out a softly wanton nicker.
She smirked. As if he would ever have been able to resist her.
"I've been expecting you."
The stallion in the doorway shivered noticeably, mane ruffling lightly as if stirred up by an unseen breeze. Yet he had no words for her as his heart pounded, leaping into his throat and staying there, tightening and half-feeling as if his windpipe was closing up. She just had that effect on him.
His lips parted and then Mistress Amethyst's paw was up, a single finger instructing his silence.
"You don't need to speak."
She drew on that even more as she rose fluidly, sashaying up to him, his eyes watering as he strove not to stare, not to look at her breast, the curve of her waist where the corset pulled in ever so slightly. She didn't need much to show off her body and he appreciated it perhaps a little too much, his cock plumping out his equine sheath, the soft fold of flesh swelling and pulling back to accommodate an equine length. Madoc swallowed a moan, standing stock-still as she brushed the flap of a whip up under his chin, forcing him to bare the vulnerable expanse of his throat as she looked him over, still woefully over-dressed.
The bulge at his crotch, however, could not be hidden and she smirked, trailing the whip down to it, along the line of his stomach, teasing and flicking, though the flicker of sensation drawn on there only rang through as such ardent pleasure. Madoc shuddered, tail flicking, struggling not to lean into that touch as his cock pushed out more and more, straining against his work trousers as he tried to hide his need. As if any equine in the world would have ever have been able to do that?
And yet the back of her paw brushing it was what did it for him, the stallion letting out a low groan of defeat - not that he'd ever wanted to win. The whip dropped to be later put away (most likely by the slave of the situation) and she presented a bit gag to his mouth, the hard set of her lips daring him to not open up.
There was only one thing that he could do, of course, and that was to part his lips and welcome that cold, hard metal down into the back of his mouth, slotting behind his teeth where there was a gap at the corner of his lips. It was funny how anthros still had that remnant from their four-legged ancestors but it suited them well when kinkier play was desired, the bit locking around his head with a strip of leather with a little something more attached to it.
Madoc trembled, snorting softly, breath coming in short, sharp pants as she fitted the bridle to him, soft leather cupping his face. He'd oiled that leather, lovingly, last time. Now it was destined to be splattered with the foamy sweat of his lust, saliva slick on the hard bit. Even the noseband was special, another strap around the softer, more delicate part of his nose, tightening to keep his mouth shut. For it was not the gag that could stop him from opening his mouth, as much as it hindered his speech, but the band of leather, clasping him firmly, keeping him in his place right where he was meant to be.
Mistress Amethyst smiled but there was nothing gentle in the glint of her eyes.
