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. These stories have been public for some time, but I am slowly uploading my back catalogue of stories currently.
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Stabled
"And just where do you think you're going?"
Amethyst, the chestnut mare, sprawled out on the hay bale, smirking at the delicious sight of her black stallion slave whinnying madly and fighting his restraints with a feverish, anxious look. Nostrils flared wildly and with a slight sheen of slick sweat layering his dark coat, he struggled uselessly to release his wrists from the rope binding them to the sturdy beam. A bridle was fitted snugly around his dished muzzle, the leather accentuating his dreamy, copper eyes and straps tugged as tight as possible. Of course, his body was bare and open for her amusement - only the reins looped over his head adorned his figure otherwise. His paws...well, he would have no paws for the time being; they were encased in tough, glove-like mittens with imitation hooves in lieu of fingers. He wouldn't need to use his paws for a while.
"Naughty, pony," she murmured, spreading her legs widely so that the randy stallion had a clear view of her moist, teardrop shaped sex, a rivulet of feminine juices trickling into the hay.
The stallion groaned lowly, pinning his ears back and stomping a hind hoof angrily, smashing it into the stone paving. Frowning, Amethyst jumped up, riding crop in hand, and slapped the short whip across his rump with a resounding crack; he squealed indignantly.
"You're nothing but an animal to me," she whispered, brushing her fingertips along his coat like she would to one of her riding horses. "And you're not doing a bad job of acting like one, cock hanging out like some damn breeding stallion."
He nickered, snapping his teeth together but not finding the spirit to deny what was so obvious to his Mistress. His mottled, fleshy length hung lewdly from his large sheath, the tip drooling as if he was just an animal driven by no more than his instincts. Striving to appease his Mistress like a feral horse would, he arched his neck and rubbed his muzzle against her breasts, lashing his tongue across her dark, firm nipples. He perked up his ears when she giggled, redoubling his efforts, the metal on his bridle clinking musically as he nuzzled between them, inhaling her musty, equine scent combined with a lighter, more feminine perfume.
"Aww," she laughed, scratching her fingers down his neck. "Does pony want a carrot?"
Carrot? He knew that word. It meant something delicious and orange and crunchy and special. It was tasty and something he would only get upon occasion. It was something his Mistress would give him.
He wanted it!
He nickered loudly and did his best to prance on the spot, bobbing his head excitedly while Amethyst merely chuckled under her breath, patting his cheek and he leaned into her touch.
"If my pony is going to be good, he can have a carrot," she winked, holding on to both sides of his muzzle to make him bob his head up and down in an imitation of a nod. "Are you going to be good, my pet?"
He snorted quietly and chewed the bit, his tongue rasping against her fingers. Of course he was going to be a good pony - wasn't he always good for his Mistress? He was well trained, she had done such a good job with him that other Masters and Mistress' were sending their pony slaves to her for training or even retraining. He was going to be a good pony, as always, for her. Besides...he wanted that carrot.
"Good, boy," Amethyst murmured soothingly, yanking the quick release knot free from the O-ring on the wooden beam.
Feeling the rope fall slack around his wrists, the pony slave lowered them to chest level, whinnying as blood rushed back into his paws, which had been restricted by the uncomfortably tight ropes for some time. Amethyst threw the rope aside and, ignoring her slave's slight huffs of discomfort, flicked his taut, muscled rump with the riding crop.
"Walk, git on," she snapped impatiently when he did not move immediately, grabbing the reins under his chin and tugging his muzzle down to her level, another 'encouraging' flick of the whip landing upon his flank, stinging briefly.
Rolling his eyes, the slave nickered and stepped forward obediently now, seeing that his Mistress meant business today. The lights in the barn picked out the healthy shine to his sleek coat and he lifted up his hooves with each step, almost as if he was attempting a Spanish walk but not quite managing the stretch required of the movement. His Mistress chuckled dryly and tapped his calf, noticing this failure in the movement as she always did.
"Higher, stretch them out. You have to be light on your hooves, slave. Again, circle."
He arched his neck and flagged his tail proudly, like those Lusitano studs what would perform the walk with a practiced ease, stepping carefully around Amethyst in a small circle, struggling to feel the stretch in his muscles with every stride. It was awkward, this gait, and did not come naturally to him, but he ground his teeth together in determination, eager to try and try again until he pleased his Mistress. He soon settled into a rhythm and concentrated, shaking his muzzle to shift his long, dark forelock from his eyes as he was evaluated and judged like a show pony in the ring.
"A little higher, slave," she instructed, tickling him with the whip. "Or is your mind driven by more feral lusts?"
