It was early evening in late summer, crickets beginning to sing their nightly tunes as fireflies bobbed and weaved to the insectoid music. A young silver dun filly sat in her suite, her maidservant brushing out her mane and tail in preparation for bed, until there came a knock at her door. A moment later, a guard came to the doorway, a regal-looking silver dun stallion standing behind him.

"His Majesty craves your indulgence, Your Highness, and wishes to spend some few hours alone with you," the guard announced. The princess nodded gravely. "Of course. Coral, you are dismissed for the evening, but please ensure a bath is drawn for me on the morrow."

"Good evening, then, Princess Patrice," the mare said, rising. She curtsied to the princess and, as he entered, King Reginald, then took her leave. The guard followed her out at a nod from the king.

Reginald waited until the door to the princess's suite closed before he crossed the room to stand before his daughter, and Patrice smiled up at him.

"Hi, Daddy. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?" she asked, taking the opportunity to practice her courtly manners. Patrice rose from her stool, aided by her father's hand.

"Business, unfortunately. Not that I anticipate it being anything other than a pleasure." The king's eyes twinkled at her, and he continued, "I know I've said so before, but there are some duties that will befall you that most princesses never need to handle. Tonight, we'll begin working on one of those duties."

Patrice frowned, wrinkling her nose a bit. "What duties...? I thought we'd covered them all with Sir Cyrus this afternoon."

The king sighed, "The ones every princess has, yes, but...since your mother died, the task of bearing an heir fell to you. We're in a delicate situation just now, however, and the law of our kingdom is fairly clear. I cannot remarry, and all of the noble houses are buttoned up in the marriage department, nor would the courts permit a dissolution in order to free a suitable candidate."

The filly nodded, then tilted her head as she asked, "So...how would I bear an heir, then?"

"That's where the business turns to pleasure, my daughter," Reginald said, and walked over to her bed. She followed him, then sat beside him when he sat on one edge. "You see, the law permits a bastard to be acknowledged as heir, so long as the mother is also of noble blood. The only one available, however, is you."

The princess gasped, but she recovered quickly and nodded. "And none of my duties actually require my physical presence, as long as my personal seal is affixed to paperwork alongside your own. I...see."

Reginald snorted, then stood up. He began disrobing, though the stallion really wasn't wearing that much: just a belted robe of fine cloth. "I'd brought some padding and a bucket with me. For now, we'd best be discreet..." Reginald dropped the robe to the floor, then quietly left the room. :ess than a minute later, he had a folded towel in one hand and a wooden bucket in the other when he returned, and the king motioned to a sturdy table that had recently been installed.

"No doubt you were wondering why I'd ordered that table brought in here, Patrice. Sturdiest table we have, and in fact it was made for this purpose a century ago." Reginald spread the towel over the table he'd indicated. It was a small, dark brown affair, with an X-shaped brace near the bottom that proved to be enough for the bucket to sit half-under the tabletop. As he was doing all this, his penis emerged from its sheath and began to drop, the tip unflared as of yet.

"Huh. That's pretty weird. Convenient, though," the filly said as she, too, disrobed. At ten years old, the filly had already experienced estrus the previous year and was nearing the end of this year's span. Patrice, therefore, was not surprised that her vulva had started to wink when her father's plan had become clear to her. She smiled at Reginald, then pulled her chamberpot out from under the bed and squatted somewhat self-consciously; she knew mares occasionally had this urge, and the aroma of her heat wafted away from the pot as she did her business.

The king's nostrils flared briefly, inhaling the pheromones from his daughter's estral urination, and his shaft stiffened to its full eight inches for a few seconds, the reflex action bringing it parallel to the ground as he waited for Patrice. She stood, then nudged the chamberpot back where it belonged.

"Okay, Daddy, I'm ready," the young horse said as she walked over and leaned over the table, hiking her tail up teasingly as she rested her arms on the padded surface. Her vulva continued to wink, and the stallion smiled down at her as he positioned himself. Reginald gently grasped her tail as his shaft stiffened once more, and he plunged it in to her with one smooth motion. Patrice gasped at first, then let her breath out in a moan as he began to thrust away within her.

Reginald set a slow rhythm at first, letting his daughter get used to the sensations flooding her body. His medial ring stayed shallow, teasing her heated flesh, and the stallion slowly picked up speed. After several minutes, he was cycling every four seconds, leaving only his unflared tip inside her when he withdrew, her passage naturally lubricated by her estrus. They were both panting by now, the room fairly hushed despite the lovemaking.

This changed, of course, when she cried out, her vagina clamping down on his erection as she came, a gush of feminine cum spattering into the bucket beneath them. After another couple dozen or so seconds, Reginald joined Patrice, his equine shaft flaring inside her as several heavy spurts of viscous semen erupted from his shaft. When he withdrew, some of Reginald's cum dribbled out of her and in to the bucket below.

"M-more, Daddy... Please, fill me again," the filly said, panting. Her tail remained hiked up as she looked behind her to her father, eyes soulfully pleading. Reginald panted, his eyes drawn to her face briefly before returning to his lewd handiwork, some of his cum dripping from her winking vulva as he watched.

"Of course, my dear princess..."

The second round, about a minute after he'd pulled out, was noisier than the first. His pistoning shaft made lewd squelching noises, and it went a little deeper into her than before. This time, when she came, Patrice was able to stifle her cry of pleasure as another gush of feminine fluids fell in to the bucket. Her upper torso was lower this time, the young filly finding it harder to hold herself up as her climax sapped her energy. Reginald grunted when his next climax overtook him, another heavy load of equine cum erupting inside hs daughter; this time, some of the stallion's load came dribbling out even before he withdrew.

By the time Reginald carried the bucket and padding out of her suite that night, he'd lost count of how many times he'd pumped into her. Was it five loads? Six? Each was messier than the one before, though his loads were starting to diminish toward the end. They both knew this was going to end up being a nightly ritual, at least until her belly rounded with foal.