Description

Forced to Fuck the Great Dane and Horse, by Jezebel Rose

John had a decided skip in his step as he approached the painted white house set within a spectacular garden. The garden encircled the whole building in color and roses and pansies splashing fragrance in many directions. The appaloosa equine trotted at a brisk clip, his feet bare as if they would be for a feral of his own kind; he did not boast hooves. The solid block of his bay coat shone fiercely in the sunlight and he brushed his darker mane back from his neck, arched in delight of the day, the warmth on his coat. He grinned. Oh, it was a fine day indeed!

After all, it was not every day that his mistress let him out of his chastity cage. No, it had been exactly thirty-one days and six hours since he had last gotten off. He counted it down to the very moment as he sprang up the garden path, eyes fixed on the oak door awaiting him, black painted detailing depicting a four-legged horse leaning over a half stable door. It reminded him of his time working at a stable yard, though at what work that particular enterprise involved a stranger would be hard pressed to uncover.

The horse nipped his lip as he opened the door, allowing it to swing wide with a creak: the hinges seemed in perpetual need of oiling. He would have to get on that later. The empty downstairs beckoned, coolness radiating from within. He stretched out his head and lipped the air, eager to be out of the heat and into something a little more comfortable.

“Sarah?” He called into the spacious hallway, shirt clinging to his back as perspiration soaked through his short coat.

“Upstairs.”

The word was sharp, curt, and he pricked his ears, cock growing hard within his boxers. That was her ‘mistress’ voice. It still made him quiver.

Anxiously, he made his way slowly up the stairs, flanked by smooth, polished banisters, and paused outside the bedroom door, tail flicking restlessly as if to swat away a fly. Nerves, however, were not as easily dissuaded as flies and he could do nothing for them besides to take the plunge. His heart hammered and he swallowed mouth dry. Even the beauty of Sarah’s home could not draw his eye on this particular day.

He slipped through a gap wide enough to fit his body, opening the door the bare minimum required. Smiling faintly, John met Sarah’s eyes, losing himself in their icy depths. The black anthro mare rolled her shoulders so that the blue silk brassiere settled more comfortably over her breasts, accentuated with black thread in the finest, spidery detail. The underwear on her bottom half matched in a like, ocean-blue shade, set off by the glow of health in her coat. John’s breath caught and he struggled to breathe, lungs sticking at the moment.

Sarah was breathtaking.

“Hi Mistress Sarah,” he mumbled, suddenly abashed.

Letting his forelock fall over his eyes, the stallion snorted softly and slid his gaze away from the stockier mare, her Shetland pony heritage shining through. Her paw instantly cupped his chin and raised his muzzle the fraction required so that she could look him in the eyes; there was little difference in their heights.

“Clothes off.”

No introductions? John shivered, tail flagging over his rump. The difference between the sweet, caring mare that held him close on a winter’s night and this dominant pony with a twinkle in her eye was as different as black and white. Yanking his t-shirt over his head, he dropped the bundle of cloth on the floor, revealing a smooth, lightly muscled back that was still lean from yard work. His jeans, scuffed and torn, met a similar fate, kicked off in a pile of rumpled fabric. Blushing, he slipped his boxers down to join them, their removal showing off his white rump, splashed with brown spots that matched his bay coat. Appaloosa equines were most striking when nude, it had to be said.

The chastity device sat snugly over his soft shaft, lock knocking gently against the heavy-duty material, restrictive in its transparency. Sarah grinned as it revealed a flash of white teeth denoting her mirth. Stepping up to her charge, she kissed him deeply, tongues battling playfully between their muzzles, though it was clear who would win this ‘battle‘ if it could truly be called such. Her breath washed over his muzzle as they broke the kiss, heartbeats racing. Sarah tapped his muzzle with one hoofed finger and winked.

“On the bed, pony, I have something special in mind for you.”

Trembling from rising excitement rather than nerves, John followed direction as ordered, moving on to all fours as he hoped she expected. The position left him nicely exposed, arse raised with his tail falling in a curtain over his tail hole and balls, tucked between his thighs. His cock hung below his stomach, pointing down towards the bed. The base creased in memory of an equine sheath that his particular strain of anthro-kind had lost many years ago. If only the chastity device was not in the way.

Sarah pushed down on his shoulders, guiding him down to the bed with a gentle but insistent touch. With a skilled touch that only she could master in deftness, she unlocked the chastity ‘cage’ and slid it from his shaft, allowing him freedom finally. He sighed and shuddered, cock swelling into the fresh space as she tossed the device aside and kissed his shoulder, fingers trailing down his spine. Yet it was only the first step in the dance. The metal touched his fetlock and John flinched away from it. She knelt on the bed behind him, working without express consent from him: the Shetland mare did not need it. Smaller than John, he could shove her away if he truly wanted to. He could not imagine ever asking her to stop.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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