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isn't usually one to get so drunk that walking is difficult, let alone trotting, but there's a first time for everything and, well, things have been more than a little bit difficult lately. What's one more drink? Or two more drinks? Things can't go that badly wrong, can they?\n\nOh, how little he knows, the stallion messing about on the slave mare farm and tangling himself up on the breeding mount while the prize stallion of the yard lifts his head, nostrils flared to take in the scent of what he thinks is a mare in season...\n\n\n---\n\n\nThank you for reading this re-published story teaser! This story is also being made available as an eBook for those who would like to support and those who solely follow my work through the eBook sites. The final books will only be available via the eBook sites.\n\nThis is available to purchase worldwide on Smashwords and via distributors!\n\nSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898903\n\n\n\n\nThank you for reading!\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\nhttps://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\n\n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\nalismitsy\n\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\narianmabe[at]gmail.com","description_bbcode_parsed":"Sean isn't usually one to get so drunk that walking is difficult, let alone trotting, but there's a first time for everything and, well, things have been more than a little bit difficult lately. What's one more drink? Or two more drinks? Things can't go that badly wrong, can they?
Oh, how little he knows, the stallion messing about on the slave mare farm and tangling himself up on the breeding mount while the prize stallion of the yard lifts his head, nostrils flared to take in the scent of what he thinks is a mare in season...
---
Thank you for reading this re-published story teaser! This story is also being made available as an eBook for those who would like to support and those who solely follow my work through the eBook sites. The final books will only be available via the eBook sites.
This is available to purchase worldwide on Smashwords and via distributors!
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898903
Thank you for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!
https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/
All new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!
alismitsy
I am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.
arianmabe[at]gmail.com","writing":"The Slave Mare and the Breeding Farm\n\nThe Drunk and the Stallion\n\n\nLeaves rustled across the bare stable yard, scudding along the ground and stirring up the gravel, carried by a bitter wind. Work on the yard had been completed hours earlier and cheers from the white house boasted a celebration to which all friends had been invited, a direct contrast to the peace of the deserted yard. By the feed shed, a fox scratched, glancing about warily as he scavenged for edible scraps, carelessly left behind for one such as him to discover. He scarpered from the raucous laughter emanating from the house, brush stiff and straight behind him, and disappeared into the night, leaving the drunken party-goers to continue without a friendly fox scream.\n\nA chestnut stallion stumbled from the house, supported by a petite brown and white mare who fussed over him like a dam with her foal, taking his arm with two, delicate paws. He brushed her off and swore under his breath, the world swaying sickeningly around him: it had been a bad idea to drink that night.\n\nThe skewbald mare tossed her mane over her shoulder and huffed at him as he reeled against the wall, clinging on to the rough surface for the semblance of support.\n\n``It's your own damn fault, Sean,'' she snapped, rubbing the corner of her eye in tiny circles to relieve the tiredness there. ``Go and sober up, dunk your head in a water barrel or something. Sit down in the cool. It's too hot in there for anyone to breathe.''\n\n``Sure, girl,'' he groaned, leaning heavily against the wall, little particles of grit digging into his palm. ``An' I'll be back soon enough, don' you worry now, darling.'' She snorted.\n\n``Sure you will, Sean, sure you will,'' she rubbed the back of her paw over her eyes, smearing her smoky eye makeup that had been so carefully applied, the long, fake lashes comically askew. ``Damn stallion can't even remember my name by now,'' she added in an undertone, shoving him towards the yard. ``Git on, off with you, colt!''\n\nThe chestnut blew her a sloppy kiss but the door had already slammed closed, the harsh noise hurting his ears so that he flattened them back slightly, rubbing the side of his head. Staggering through the open gate that linked the small, unkempt house garden to the yard, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the shadowy shapes and colours that rocked before his gaze. Blue. The water barrels were blue. He had to wash his face like...like the mare said. Clean up.\n\nThere was a water barrel at the corner of the dirty white block of stables on the upper end of the yard and, somehow, the unsteady stallion made his way over to it. He collapsed over the barrel with a weary sigh, as if the walk over had drained him entirely, and dipped his paw in the cold water, splashing some on to his muzzle half-heartedly. What was the point in cleaning up now? Nothing was going to happen between him and that mare, he knew it. It had been such a stupid idea to have so much to drink. Alan had plied him with the stuff, mocking him when he was unable to keep up with the palomino horse's number of shots, glasses of liquor... The drinks had blurred into one. Stupid, so stupid.\n\nWith his face clean and a measure of sobriety returned, Sean wandered through the yard, not yet feeling well enough to return to the party. Some of the horses looked curiously over the bottom half of their stable doors, eyes bright as they anticipated a late night treat or scratch across their withers. Sean paused at his rescued racehorse, the smart, bay gelding that was blind in one eye, to pat his nose fondly.\n\n``We'll go out tomorrow, we will, my boy,'' he crooned, brushing the horse's forelock out of its eyes. ``Go out for a gallop down the railway line track. You'll like that, won't you? We'll have a blast, a right good blow out.''\n\nThe horse blew warm air into his face as if he understood every word and Sean believed he did, smiling as he walked away to continue his aimless wander. The yard was a very different world during the night, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life - it was a lazy, sleepy time, even if winter's chill nipped at his coat. Early November. What a horrible time of year to work. He yearned for the warm, summer mornings where he could take his horse out for a hack before even beginning work, dishing out the morning feeds when the sun was up rather than still weakly rising, if that.\n\nHe stopped, swishing his long tail that had grown all the way down to his fetlocks; he needed to get it trimmed again. Rubbing away an itch behind his ear, Sean rested a paw on the arena fence and wondered what had drawn him down here, away from even the horses. It was a bare, cold patch in the equine warmth of the stables. Another slave mare (a stroppy black) had been bred earlier that day and the breeding stand, complete with immobilising bondage, had been left in the middle of the arena, perhaps forgotten by Alan or himself. Sean couldn't quite remember. But he had more fun breeding the two-legger mares than he used to - it had a certain added pleasure for him. Oral pleasures, that is. Anal, if the mare was fit for it.\n\nSlipping the catch on the gate, he paced inside and his hooves sank into the moist sand, which was scattered with wisps of half-eaten hay; an empty water bucket stood at the far side. He went over to the breeding device and ran his paw over the top, patting it as he would a horse, though not understanding his own actions. One could put it down to intoxication.\n\n``And you see here, boy,'' he said loudly as if instructing a new stable hand. ``You see here, boy, you have to get the mare across this...thing...contraption, an' she'll be nice and tied in. She won't be able to move an' the stallion-boy can `ave `is way with her.''\n\n``But how does the mare get on to the contraption, Sean?'' Another voice asked out of the darkness. Without thinking - his brain was functioning more slowly than normal and his surroundings had a dreamlike quality to them - Sean stepped forward and rested the upper half of his body awkwardly over the stand.\n\n``Like this,'' he told his observer. ``She puts her paws...here...an' her legs...here....an' - oi!''\n\nSomebody grabbed his paw and fastened a leather cuff around it, dragging it into place on the stand so that he could not yank it back. And before he could even stimulate his tired body into unfastening the cuff himself, the strange `other' fur had secured his previously free paw too, leaving him helpless and forced to lie across the stand like...like a mare to be bred.\n\n``What the hell is going on?'' He yelled, coherency suddenly returning to him. ``Who's there? Fucking show yourself!''\n\nAn all too familiar palomino shape stepped into his line of sight and Sean swore under his breath.\n\n``Alan! You bastard!'' He snapped. ``Let me out right fucking now, you lazy arsehole!''\n\n``But why would I do that, Sean?'' He laughed wickedly, swaying slightly from side to side; he had had a few too many to drink too, or so it seemed. ``Lighten up, have some fun! Or I can just have my fun...''\n\nThe chestnut stallion writhed, swore and kicked like a foal being approached for the first time, but his drunken contortions were not enough to prevent Alan from grabbing his fetlocks and cuffing them to the device with shocking ease. With all four limbs bound, Sean was helpless to prevent the prankster stallion from lashing his midriff down also, leaving him completely immobile. Sean craned his neck to look back and grunted in pain, his body pulling at the restraints.\n\n``What the fuck are you playing at, Alan?'' He muttered, his muzzle flushing with shame.\n\n``Just having some fun, you silly bugger,'' Alan chuckled, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. ``And just a few pictures...'' The camera-phone snapped a shot, the click audible in the quiet.\n\nSean thrashed and heaved but no amount of movement could dislodge his body from the tight, expertly administered restraints or even tip over the stand. Sighing and hanging his head, he let his forelock flop into his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. He was sure worse had happened to others and he would get back at Alan when the opportunity presented itself...by gods, he would!\n\nHe swore and cursed fluently as, to further humiliate him, Alan yanked down the bound stallion's smart jeans and boxers, leaving them stretched between his knees; his legs were spread apart, `hugging' the stand, so they were unable to go any further down. Snorting and pinning his tail over his rump, Sean closed his eyes as the flash on the camera-phone blinked again, further documenting his degradation. The things he would do to Alan when he got hold of him...\n\n``Fuck you, bastard,'' he groaned. ``You've had your fun, let me up now.''\n\n``Nah,'' Alan grinned, pocketing his phone. ``I think you can `chill' there for a little while. Have fun!''\n\n``Alan, you're not serious? Alan - wait! Get back here!'' Sean yelled, but the palomino was already gone, flicking his ghostly, white tail in the moonlight, forgetting to close the gate behind him.\n\n``Damn him,'' Sean said, shivering.\n\nHe was suddenly aware of how cold it was and he resettled his tail, hoping to cover his rump a little more with the thick hair. It did no good, however, and Sean hoped fervently that Alan would return quickly, just wanting to psyche him out - make him believe that he was going to be left alone in the cold, dark arena for hours. Sighing quietly, he rested the side of his muzzle on the padded stand and listened to the sounds of the night; if he had not been so positioned and bound, it would have been quite relaxing to sit there in the peaceful yard. The gate creaked and the stallion turned his head anxiously, giving a frightened nicker as a dark shape slipped into the arena.\n\n``Who's there?'' He asked nervously, licking his lips. ``Alan? What are you doing now? Just me up, all right, mate? Come on now.''\n\nNobody answered.\n\nTwitching and praying that he was not about to have an even worse practical joke pulled on him, Sean twisted from side to side, desperate to work out what was going on. He almost laughed aloud when a familiar nose bumped against his side, the stallion snuffing at the strange scents on his clothes.\n\n``Basil!'' Sean chuckled. ``Got out of your stall again, did you? That bastard must have forgotten to slide the bottom bolt. What the heck are you doing in here though?'' He asked the piebald stallion, who stood at about sixteen hands.\n\nThe horse snorted, brushing his lips against Sean's clothes. Sean dropped his muzzle and left the horse to his investigations, thinking that he would do no harm. That was until the curious Basil's muzzle touched his displayed rear and the horse nipped the flesh, startling a yelp from Alan.\n\nFuck! He thought with wide eyes, white rims of fear showing around the edge. I'm on the breeding stand! He thinks I'm a mare! He thinks....oh hell!\n\n``No!'' Sean shouted. ``Fuck off, Basil! Oi! Guys! Guys! Help me! Get down here now! Alan, wherever the fuck you are, get the hell down here!''\n\nBut nobody answered and Basil nuzzled under his tail, investigating what he was to claim. He had been led to the breeding stand many times before and the piebald only understood one meaning behind it. Sean's objections counted for nothing.\n\nGroaning, Sean drew in a deep breath, preparing to scream as loudly as his lungs would allow him. Basil shoved his muzzle forward though and swiped his tongue between Sean's tail hole and his balls, searching for the hole that allowed him entry. The breath rushed out of Sean again and he bit down on his lower lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood washed into his mouth. Coming from a four-legged horse, it should not feel so good, but his body trembled when the stallion's tongue circled his anus, flicking over the tight bud several times in quick succession as if the horse was trying to taste a mare, test her readiness. He didn't know that a stallion lay before him.\n\n``Basil...go away,'' he said weakly. ``I'll never hear the end of it if someone catches me like this. Please, fuck off, Basil, please.''\n\nThe stallion flicked one ear forward and then back to a relaxed position again, ignoring Sean's quiet pleas. The chestnut was torn. Did he scream again and summon help? Or did he stay quiet and hope that it would be over soon? Help and humiliation or pain and silence? There would still be humiliation either way: oh the choices... He sighed and quivered, the stallion's tongue scraping against his tail hole, which he flexed nervously, keeping it as tight as possible to keep out the warm, moist tongue assaulting the ring. He couldn't even hear anything from the house and he knew that they would be busy for hours yet... One more try, just in case Alan was still around.\n\n``Alan!'' Sean screamed, coughing as his lungs refused to sustain the shrill, fearful note. ``Get back over here now! I fucking mean it! Basil got out! If you're there, get back!''\n\nEnd preview of The Drunk & the Stallion.\n\nThank you for reading this re-published story teaser! This story is also being made available as an eBook for those who would like to support and those who solely follow my work through the eBook sites. The final books will only be available via the eBook sites.\n\nThis is available to purchase worldwide on Smashwords and via distributors!\n\nSmashwords: HYPERLINK \"https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898903\" https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898903 \n\nThank you for reading!\n\n \n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\n HYPERLINK \"https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\" https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/ \n\n \n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\n@alismitsy\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\n HYPERLINK \"mailto:arianmabe@gmail.com\" arianmabe@gmail.com \n\nIf you liked this book, you may also enjoy...\n\nBarn Basic Bitches\n\nAs genetic manipulation looked towards more profitable venues than resurrecting old species for the sake of humanity - it was humanity, after all, who had rendered them extinct - it was no surprise that the eyes of investors turned to horse racing. There were many that claimed that a scientific field should work towards a goal to benefit mankind, although it was the investors that had the final say in the matter. Horse racing was a goldmine and one to exploited - for the sake of science, of course, nothing more than that. If they profited from the endeavour of making horses quicker and with higher stamina, as a very basic premise, they would then be able to put the money towards more wholesome projects, such as curing terminal diseases. It was just that simple.\n\nAnd what could be more interesting and scientific than horses that looked a little less...horse-like?\n\n---\n\nA cross between humans and horses, these furry ladies are hot and ready to trot! Left alone in the barn, the racing mares are up to no good (as usual) while the humans are waiting to bring them their studs to enjoy. What better life could a human-mare ask for? They love their lives and their little \"sessions\", but there will always be one that has to be, well...a little bit of a barn basic bitch.\n\nBut the \"mares\" will put her back in her place if the studs don?t come into play first!\n\nBridled: Training the Slave Stallion\n\nAce has a poor stallion in her hold and he is not to know what her mood is, how quickly her wiles may change in the blink of an eye. She has him there to use and abuse, the bound and hapless slave stud, but he signed up to be in her service and knew just what he was getting into...\n\nOr did he? No one is to say. But he?s there to stay and he must please his mistress at all costs...\n\nA straight tale of furry femdom erotica.\n\nCheating with a Gryphon: The Making of an Egg\n\nJuliet, a gryphon, is desperate for an egg, but her husband is not of the same species of her and their chances of having a healthy hatchling are slim at best. And yet they keep trying, yearning for that little one as their sex life wavers, diminishing as the months pass by for the young couple. It?s about to be their undoing as their marriage is on the edge of crumbling, but Juliet is a gryphon with a plan.\n\nAnd that plan involves Mack?s best friend: a gryphon. And, oh, he is a stud of a gryphon too! Her husband?s best friend is the ideal gryphon to sire a clutch with her, of glossy feathers and a strong, masculine frame. Any young sired by him will be healthy and strong and how will her husband be any the wiser?\n\nIt?s cheating, but Juliet is desperate for the touch of a real male.\n\nBut will he sire her clutch or will they both remain faithful to those who love them?\n\nCaught by the Werewolf\n\nRachel is well known for all the reasons and any lad worth his beer seems to have already \"had a go\" with her. Nevertheless, the cocky blonde goes to the Halloween party with high hopes to find \"the right one\", but comes across a gentleman in a highly realistic werewolf costume that is more than he seems to be on first glance.\n\nWhen she?s hauled off to the bedroom by a real werewolf, what can Rachel do but plead for her life? To her fortune, however, the werewolf may very well be just the male she?s been looking for as his desires lend towards the more carnal side of lovemaking...\n\nBecoming a Broodmare\n\nJason Mallory is a rapist. And justice is coming for him. Believed to be dead in the latest prison riot, he has no rights left to him and is dead in all but person. After all, who is going to stand up for such a despicable person?\n\nDragged off and believing his days to have come to an end at the hands of the lethal injection, he finds that a far worse fate awaits him. The prison has a little known secret facility where all manner of tests are carried out. But, for one particular experiment, Jason Mallory?s body begins to change against his will.\n\nAnd his life will never be the same again, used as breeding toy for their whims.\n\nBehind the Barbell: The New Guy\n\nMalcolm likes to give the newbies at the gym some extra help, for a fee. When Tommy, a white rabbit, joins the gym, the horse can?t resist taking him under his wing. He?s cute, slim and wants to be a hit with the ladies, though there?s something about him that makes Malcolm think he may not be averse to a bit of lad on lad action. Excellent.\n\nTraining, however, comes at a price and Tommy has to pay up on his knees if he wants their sessions to continue... Thing is, the bunny is true to his kind and all too eager to take a certain something between his lips.\n\n PAGE \\* MERGEFORMAT 1 \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"The Slave Mare and the Breeding Farm
The Drunk and the Stallion
Leaves rustled across the bare stable yard, scudding along the ground and stirring up the gravel, carried by a bitter wind. Work on the yard had been completed hours earlier and cheers from the white house boasted a celebration to which all friends had been invited, a direct contrast to the peace of the deserted yard. By the feed shed, a fox scratched, glancing about warily as he scavenged for edible scraps, carelessly left behind for one such as him to discover. He scarpered from the raucous laughter emanating from the house, brush stiff and straight behind him, and disappeared into the night, leaving the drunken party-goers to continue without a friendly fox scream.
A chestnut stallion stumbled from the house, supported by a petite brown and white mare who fussed over him like a dam with her foal, taking his arm with two, delicate paws. He brushed her off and swore under his breath, the world swaying sickeningly around him: it had been a bad idea to drink that night.
The skewbald mare tossed her mane over her shoulder and huffed at him as he reeled against the wall, clinging on to the rough surface for the semblance of support.
``It's your own damn fault, Sean,'' she snapped, rubbing the corner of her eye in tiny circles to relieve the tiredness there. ``Go and sober up, dunk your head in a water barrel or something. Sit down in the cool. It's too hot in there for anyone to breathe.''
``Sure, girl,'' he groaned, leaning heavily against the wall, little particles of grit digging into his palm. ``An' I'll be back soon enough, don' you worry now, darling.'' She snorted.
``Sure you will, Sean, sure you will,'' she rubbed the back of her paw over her eyes, smearing her smoky eye makeup that had been so carefully applied, the long, fake lashes comically askew. ``Damn stallion can't even remember my name by now,'' she added in an undertone, shoving him towards the yard. ``Git on, off with you, colt!''
The chestnut blew her a sloppy kiss but the door had already slammed closed, the harsh noise hurting his ears so that he flattened them back slightly, rubbing the side of his head. Staggering through the open gate that linked the small, unkempt house garden to the yard, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the shadowy shapes and colours that rocked before his gaze. Blue. The water barrels were blue. He had to wash his face like...like the mare said. Clean up.
There was a water barrel at the corner of the dirty white block of stables on the upper end of the yard and, somehow, the unsteady stallion made his way over to it. He collapsed over the barrel with a weary sigh, as if the walk over had drained him entirely, and dipped his paw in the cold water, splashing some on to his muzzle half-heartedly. What was the point in cleaning up now? Nothing was going to happen between him and that mare, he knew it. It had been such a stupid idea to have so much to drink. Alan had plied him with the stuff, mocking him when he was unable to keep up with the palomino horse's number of shots, glasses of liquor... The drinks had blurred into one. Stupid, so stupid.
With his face clean and a measure of sobriety returned, Sean wandered through the yard, not yet feeling well enough to return to the party. Some of the horses looked curiously over the bottom half of their stable doors, eyes bright as they anticipated a late night treat or scratch across their withers. Sean paused at his rescued racehorse, the smart, bay gelding that was blind in one eye, to pat his nose fondly.
``We'll go out tomorrow, we will, my boy,'' he crooned, brushing the horse's forelock out of its eyes. ``Go out for a gallop down the railway line track. You'll like that, won't you? We'll have a blast, a right good blow out.''
The horse blew warm air into his face as if he understood every word and Sean believed he did, smiling as he walked away to continue his aimless wander. The yard was a very different world during the night, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life - it was a lazy, sleepy time, even if winter's chill nipped at his coat. Early November. What a horrible time of year to work. He yearned for the warm, summer mornings where he could take his horse out for a hack before even beginning work, dishing out the morning feeds when the sun was up rather than still weakly rising, if that.
He stopped, swishing his long tail that had grown all the way down to his fetlocks; he needed to get it trimmed again. Rubbing away an itch behind his ear, Sean rested a paw on the arena fence and wondered what had drawn him down here, away from even the horses. It was a bare, cold patch in the equine warmth of the stables. Another slave mare (a stroppy black) had been bred earlier that day and the breeding stand, complete with immobilising bondage, had been left in the middle of the arena, perhaps forgotten by Alan or himself. Sean couldn't quite remember. But he had more fun breeding the two-legger mares than he used to - it had a certain added pleasure for him. Oral pleasures, that is. Anal, if the mare was fit for it.
Slipping the catch on the gate, he paced inside and his hooves sank into the moist sand, which was scattered with wisps of half-eaten hay; an empty water bucket stood at the far side. He went over to the breeding device and ran his paw over the top, patting it as he would a horse, though not understanding his own actions. One could put it down to intoxication.
``And you see here, boy,'' he said loudly as if instructing a new stable hand. ``You see here, boy, you have to get the mare across this...thing...contraption, an' she'll be nice and tied in. She won't be able to move an' the stallion-boy can `ave `is way with her.''
``But how does the mare get on to the contraption, Sean?'' Another voice asked out of the darkness. Without thinking - his brain was functioning more slowly than normal and his surroundings had a dreamlike quality to them - Sean stepped forward and rested the upper half of his body awkwardly over the stand.
``Like this,'' he told his observer. ``She puts her paws...here...an' her legs...here....an' - oi!''
Somebody grabbed his paw and fastened a leather cuff around it, dragging it into place on the stand so that he could not yank it back. And before he could even stimulate his tired body into unfastening the cuff himself, the strange `other' fur had secured his previously free paw too, leaving him helpless and forced to lie across the stand like...like a mare to be bred.
``What the hell is going on?'' He yelled, coherency suddenly returning to him. ``Who's there? Fucking show yourself!''
An all too familiar palomino shape stepped into his line of sight and Sean swore under his breath.
``Alan! You bastard!'' He snapped. ``Let me out right fucking now, you lazy arsehole!''
``But why would I do that, Sean?'' He laughed wickedly, swaying slightly from side to side; he had had a few too many to drink too, or so it seemed. ``Lighten up, have some fun! Or I can just have my fun...''
The chestnut stallion writhed, swore and kicked like a foal being approached for the first time, but his drunken contortions were not enough to prevent Alan from grabbing his fetlocks and cuffing them to the device with shocking ease. With all four limbs bound, Sean was helpless to prevent the prankster stallion from lashing his midriff down also, leaving him completely immobile. Sean craned his neck to look back and grunted in pain, his body pulling at the restraints.
``What the fuck are you playing at, Alan?'' He muttered, his muzzle flushing with shame.
``Just having some fun, you silly bugger,'' Alan chuckled, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. ``And just a few pictures...'' The camera-phone snapped a shot, the click audible in the quiet.
Sean thrashed and heaved but no amount of movement could dislodge his body from the tight, expertly administered restraints or even tip over the stand. Sighing and hanging his head, he let his forelock flop into his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. He was sure worse had happened to others and he would get back at Alan when the opportunity presented itself...by gods, he would!
He swore and cursed fluently as, to further humiliate him, Alan yanked down the bound stallion's smart jeans and boxers, leaving them stretched between his knees; his legs were spread apart, `hugging' the stand, so they were unable to go any further down. Snorting and pinning his tail over his rump, Sean closed his eyes as the flash on the camera-phone blinked again, further documenting his degradation. The things he would do to Alan when he got hold of him...
``Fuck you, bastard,'' he groaned. ``You've had your fun, let me up now.''
``Nah,'' Alan grinned, pocketing his phone. ``I think you can `chill' there for a little while. Have fun!''
``Alan, you're not serious? Alan - wait! Get back here!'' Sean yelled, but the palomino was already gone, flicking his ghostly, white tail in the moonlight, forgetting to close the gate behind him.
``Damn him,'' Sean said, shivering.
He was suddenly aware of how cold it was and he resettled his tail, hoping to cover his rump a little more with the thick hair. It did no good, however, and Sean hoped fervently that Alan would return quickly, just wanting to psyche him out - make him believe that he was going to be left alone in the cold, dark arena for hours. Sighing quietly, he rested the side of his muzzle on the padded stand and listened to the sounds of the night; if he had not been so positioned and bound, it would have been quite relaxing to sit there in the peaceful yard. The gate creaked and the stallion turned his head anxiously, giving a frightened nicker as a dark shape slipped into the arena.
``Who's there?'' He asked nervously, licking his lips. ``Alan? What are you doing now? Just me up, all right, mate? Come on now.''
Nobody answered.
Twitching and praying that he was not about to have an even worse practical joke pulled on him, Sean twisted from side to side, desperate to work out what was going on. He almost laughed aloud when a familiar nose bumped against his side, the stallion snuffing at the strange scents on his clothes.
``Basil!'' Sean chuckled. ``Got out of your stall again, did you? That bastard must have forgotten to slide the bottom bolt. What the heck are you doing in here though?'' He asked the piebald stallion, who stood at about sixteen hands.
The horse snorted, brushing his lips against Sean's clothes. Sean dropped his muzzle and left the horse to his investigations, thinking that he would do no harm. That was until the curious Basil's muzzle touched his displayed rear and the horse nipped the flesh, startling a yelp from Alan.
Fuck! He thought with wide eyes, white rims of fear showing around the edge. I'm on the breeding stand! He thinks I'm a mare! He thinks....oh hell!
``No!'' Sean shouted. ``Fuck off, Basil! Oi! Guys! Guys! Help me! Get down here now! Alan, wherever the fuck you are, get the hell down here!''
But nobody answered and Basil nuzzled under his tail, investigating what he was to claim. He had been led to the breeding stand many times before and the piebald only understood one meaning behind it. Sean's objections counted for nothing.
Groaning, Sean drew in a deep breath, preparing to scream as loudly as his lungs would allow him. Basil shoved his muzzle forward though and swiped his tongue between Sean's tail hole and his balls, searching for the hole that allowed him entry. The breath rushed out of Sean again and he bit down on his lower lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood washed into his mouth. Coming from a four-legged horse, it should not feel so good, but his body trembled when the stallion's tongue circled his anus, flicking over the tight bud several times in quick succession as if the horse was trying to taste a mare, test her readiness. He didn't know that a stallion lay before him.
``Basil...go away,'' he said weakly. ``I'll never hear the end of it if someone catches me like this. Please, fuck off, Basil, please.''
The stallion flicked one ear forward and then back to a relaxed position again, ignoring Sean's quiet pleas. The chestnut was torn. Did he scream again and summon help? Or did he stay quiet and hope that it would be over soon? Help and humiliation or pain and silence? There would still be humiliation either way: oh the choices... He sighed and quivered, the stallion's tongue scraping against his tail hole, which he flexed nervously, keeping it as tight as possible to keep out the warm, moist tongue assaulting the ring. He couldn't even hear anything from the house and he knew that they would be busy for hours yet... One more try, just in case Alan was still around.
``Alan!'' Sean screamed, coughing as his lungs refused to sustain the shrill, fearful note. ``Get back over here now! I fucking mean it! Basil got out! If you're there, get back!''
End preview of The Drunk & the Stallion.
Thank you for reading this re-published story teaser! This story is also being made available as an eBook for those who would like to support and those who solely follow my work through the eBook sites. The final books will only be available via the eBook sites.
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HYPERLINK "mailto:arianmabe@gmail.com" arianmabe@gmail.com
If you liked this book, you may also enjoy...
Barn Basic Bitches
As genetic manipulation looked towards more profitable venues than resurrecting old species for the sake of humanity - it was humanity, after all, who had rendered them extinct - it was no surprise that the eyes of investors turned to horse racing. There were many that claimed that a scientific field should work towards a goal to benefit mankind, although it was the investors that had the final say in the matter. Horse racing was a goldmine and one to exploited - for the sake of science, of course, nothing more than that. If they profited from the endeavour of making horses quicker and with higher stamina, as a very basic premise, they would then be able to put the money towards more wholesome projects, such as curing terminal diseases. It was just that simple.
And what could be more interesting and scientific than horses that looked a little less...horse-like?
---
A cross between humans and horses, these furry ladies are hot and ready to trot! Left alone in the barn, the racing mares are up to no good (as usual) while the humans are waiting to bring them their studs to enjoy. What better life could a human-mare ask for? They love their lives and their little "sessions", but there will always be one that has to be, well...a little bit of a barn basic bitch.
But the "mares" will put her back in her place if the studs don?t come into play first!
Bridled: Training the Slave Stallion
Ace has a poor stallion in her hold and he is not to know what her mood is, how quickly her wiles may change in the blink of an eye. She has him there to use and abuse, the bound and hapless slave stud, but he signed up to be in her service and knew just what he was getting into...
Or did he? No one is to say. But he?s there to stay and he must please his mistress at all costs...
A straight tale of furry femdom erotica.
Cheating with a Gryphon: The Making of an Egg
Juliet, a gryphon, is desperate for an egg, but her husband is not of the same species of her and their chances of having a healthy hatchling are slim at best. And yet they keep trying, yearning for that little one as their sex life wavers, diminishing as the months pass by for the young couple. It?s about to be their undoing as their marriage is on the edge of crumbling, but Juliet is a gryphon with a plan.
And that plan involves Mack?s best friend: a gryphon. And, oh, he is a stud of a gryphon too! Her husband?s best friend is the ideal gryphon to sire a clutch with her, of glossy feathers and a strong, masculine frame. Any young sired by him will be healthy and strong and how will her husband be any the wiser?
It?s cheating, but Juliet is desperate for the touch of a real male.
But will he sire her clutch or will they both remain faithful to those who love them?
Caught by the Werewolf
Rachel is well known for all the reasons and any lad worth his beer seems to have already "had a go" with her. Nevertheless, the cocky blonde goes to the Halloween party with high hopes to find "the right one", but comes across a gentleman in a highly realistic werewolf costume that is more than he seems to be on first glance.
When she?s hauled off to the bedroom by a real werewolf, what can Rachel do but plead for her life? To her fortune, however, the werewolf may very well be just the male she?s been looking for as his desires lend towards the more carnal side of lovemaking...
Becoming a Broodmare
Jason Mallory is a rapist. And justice is coming for him. Believed to be dead in the latest prison riot, he has no rights left to him and is dead in all but person. After all, who is going to stand up for such a despicable person?
Dragged off and believing his days to have come to an end at the hands of the lethal injection, he finds that a far worse fate awaits him. The prison has a little known secret facility where all manner of tests are carried out. But, for one particular experiment, Jason Mallory?s body begins to change against his will.
And his life will never be the same again, used as breeding toy for their whims.
Behind the Barbell: The New Guy
Malcolm likes to give the newbies at the gym some extra help, for a fee. When Tommy, a white rabbit, joins the gym, the horse can?t resist taking him under his wing. He?s cute, slim and wants to be a hit with the ladies, though there?s something about him that makes Malcolm think he may not be averse to a bit of lad on lad action. Excellent.
Training, however, comes at a price and Tommy has to pay up on his knees if he wants their sessions to continue... Thing is, the bunny is true to his kind and all too eager to take a certain something between his lips.
PAGE \\* MERGEFORMAT 1
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