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Ivan, who can't help but appreciate the utter amazon he has at his mercy.\n\nA commission for [iconname]Elberik[/iconname]. You can find stories like this and more over on my [url=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url]. Top-tier members get access to discounts on commissions. Your support is greatly appreciated.\n\nEnjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "With her master away, Buzzcunt is left in the capable hands of her (least?) favorite caretaker, Ivan, who can't help but appreciate the utter amazon he has at his mercy.

A commission for \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tElberik\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tElberik\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
. You can find stories like this and more over on my Patreon and/or Subscribestar. Top-tier members get access to discounts on commissions. Your support is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy!", "writing": "Buzzcunt bristled in the cold wind. The mare huffed, catching the air change into white wisps before vanishing before her eyes. Her chains rattled when she tried to hug herself. Her wrists were never far from her sides, latched onto the leather body harness that exposed her to the elements. \n\n\nIn another time, more a dream than a memory, she didn’t care for winter. It was an excuse to stay indoors or find some new fashion to keep her warm while looking like she belonged far above her social peers. Now she despised it, and what protection from the cold her master gave was a shawl saved for days of heavy snowfall. She looked up as much as her bridle allowed and found not a single cloud in the sky today. \n\n\n Buzzcunt didn’t complain. As a slave, she’d long surrendered the right to speak freely. Her master went as far as to ensure her tongue locked in place with whatever gag he latched behind her teeth. Early in her new role, the coyote explained he preferred her mouth preoccupied until she learned not to ask questions. She suspected the reason was a lie.\n\n\nEven if she had the right, it would fall on deaf ears. Her surrender sacrificed the privilege of empathy. Mark, her master, treated her as no more than an object, now scarcely using the epithet he’d put in place of her name. To his guests, she was an attraction. Something to be curious about but ultimately ignored in favor of her master’s attention. Only one guest, if she could even call him that for the frequency of his visits, seemed willing to care if she listened. Yet for some reason that urged her to keep quiet, as if Ivan’s pity made her lesser than what she already was. \n\n\nShe stood tall in the cold breeze as the stallion chopped wood to the side of her. Though layered in a winter jacket she could see his muscles tense with each swing of the ax. Logs split with ease under the weight of his blow. Buzzcunt knew the strength of those calloused hands. He’d explored every inch of her labor-trained muscular body with them, even the places her master offered only whip or cane. \n\n\nIvan winked back when he caught her staring. She looked away, silently wishing he’d reprimand her for looking at him without permission. Mark made that lesson clear so early she couldn’t remember how. Ivan seemed dead set on challenging her reforged nature.\n\n\nHe loaded firewood onto the wagon she’d been hitched to. A small one, easy compared to the plow. “Cold, isn’t it?” Ivan said, taking a switch and lining it under her hardened nipples. Buzzcunt blew a puff of white air and looked forward. Despite her blinders, she knew Ivan smiled. “Don’t worry, Buzzcunt,” he said, clasping her breast in his palm and squeezing just enough for her to wince. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and warm inside. You might even get a treat. Mark’s not here to tell me no.”\n\n\nBuzzcunt’s loyalty to her master did not make the offer less titillating. She’d prefer it if Mark delivered it by hand, but he was out traveling on business that was not her place to ask. Even if he wasn’t, the coyote wouldn’t offer it. If he wanted her to cum, she would cum regardless. If he didn’t, as he had for the past several months, she wouldn’t. She knew this before. It was her stick and her carrot. \n\n\nBut Ivan wanted her to know he was offering it. He wanted to please her, or at least to think she deserved pleasure so long as she pleased him. Buzzcunt was not so stupid to believe he’d do this out of kindness in his heart. Not that it mattered. She was property and he was her master until the coyote’s return. If he demanded her to jump, she’d jump and would accept any punishment for failing to meet the expectations. \n\n\nSo she did not let the desire of his proposal slip her mask. For now, she had one job, to pull the wagon where he desired. Once filled with lumber, Ivan directed her toward the house across cold mudslicked earth. Any falter in her pace was answered with a switch. Mark had conditioned pain to be her pedal.\n\n\nThe firewood wasn’t for her. Buzzcunt’s stable in the house had just a space heater for cold nights. Ivan mentioned something about a fireplace in her master’s living room. Remembering that she was not to consider such things she brushed the thought aside. Once the wagon was unhitched and wood put away the stallion led her back into the only home she’d known for years.\n\n\nWith care, Ivan laid her flat against the concrete floor. Buzzcunt’s legs ached with the pause. She was so used to staying on her feet when awake that the respite was almost painful yet remarkably relaxing. The euphoria of rest her body felt laying back nearly closed her eyes. She’d have fallen asleep if her ankles weren’t suddenly locked to a spreader bar. \n\n\nA machine whirred to life. The cranking sound of a pulley echoed across cold cement walls. Buzzcunt felt her legs rising against her will. She peered down to find a thick meathook latched onto her spreader bar. Buzzcunt huffed in confusion, fighting not to struggle as the hook pulled her up, stopping once she was suspended upside down. \n\n\n“So many toys, and he barely uses them.” Ivan stripped out of jacket and overalls, revealing the bulging gut and thick trunk of a shaft growing from his seeth. Saliva pooled at the site of it despite herself. \n\n\n“Personally,” Ivan kneeled, opened her mouth, and unlatched the gag locked to her tongue, “I think Mark takes you for granted. You don’t complain, don’t use safewords, and you’ve got the perfect amazonian body he helped chisel. Yet he barely gives you the time of day, even when you’re working. It’s a waste.”\n\n\nEven if Buzzcount wanted to speak, the stallion held her tongue by its piercing between two thick fingers. Reflexive grunts escaped her maw as he locked it open with a ring-gag, wide enough to allow his cock. She remembered being shocked the first time Mark had given it to her, not realizing he’d been steadily training her jaw to take more and more. Ivan whistled to himself as he screwed her piercing into the gag’s base to keep her tongue in place. \n\n\nDrool overflowed from the roof of her mouth. He let her twirl, continuing to whistle some jaunty tune. The creak of a spigot sent goosebumps across her skin. She tried to slip free despite her conditioning, profoundly pleading noises that might have been words to anyone who didn’t know her true self.\n\n\nWater blasted against her back. Expecting to feel cold water she screamed. To her shock, it was warm water that wet her back. Ivan chuckled, spraying her dirty mud-drenched fur with the indoor hose. \n\n\n“Surprised? I won’t tell Mark if you won’t.”\n\n\nBuzzcunt couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt warm water. The mare knew of showers and baths. She had them regularly before Mark. They were barely memories now. More concepts she knew. Her body relaxed in the torrent, all the aches washing away with the dirt and grime.\n\n\nIvan, no doubt noticing this, thumbed the spray right as it crossed over her cunt. Buzzcunt curled up against the sudden pressure. He laughed. “Don’t get too comfy. This isn’t some five-star treatment.”\n\n\nThe rinse ended as suddenly as it started. The absence of heat coiled around her body like a sealed bag deprived of air. Droplets clattered on the floor underneath her. Drip, drip, drip. Ivan’s warm hands clasped her thighs and gently squeezed. \n\n\n“Never thought I’d like muscle on a woman.” His touch dragged over every pronounced muscle she had. From her biceps, her legs, the abdominals barely hidden by a layer of fat she built up for the winter. “But the way he’s molded you just makes them look so right. You’d be some amazonian goddess if not for the chains. Instead, you’re just a workhorse.” He slapped her chiseled ass, winced, and shook the same hand. “One that can take a beating.”\n\n\nGoddess. Someone had called her that before. She remembered faces, suitors who lied with honeyed smiles to get a piece of her. The memory made her sick. She was no goddess. Her master knew that, knew it before she realized it herself. She was so much less. \n\n\nThe memories faded when Ivan turned her around to face his crotch. His cock stood tall, with visible veins on both sides separated by the medial ring. Buzzcunt huffed hints of his scent. Her tongue twitched for it, fruitlessly struggling in its anchored place. With a small sadistic laugh, he patted her cheek with the log of meat. \n\n\n“Beg for it.” He commanded. Buzzcunt’s confusion broke through her training. His wicked grin grew wider as a nightmarish scowl from her view. “Mark told me he beat the begging out of you, but I don’t believe it. I think you just know he finds you stroking his ego repulsive. Me though? Well, I’m not Mark.”\n\n\nBuzzcunt learned long ago that her mouth was meant for sustenance and the pleasure of others. She was constantly gagged because of this. The grunts she made were reflexive, uncontrollable instincts to pain and pleasure that her master allowed. She’d never needed to speak. \n\n\nExcept when Ivan commanded it. Ivan, who ordered her to cry out for his name. Ivan, who treated her just enough above her station that a new pain seeped through her body. Regret. It didn’t stay long, but in the moments it came she was lucid enough to imagine what life would be like if she’d met Ivan first. Happiness was not a question. Nor was her satisfaction. But would it have been more fitting? She couldn’t put it into words. \n\n\nWith her mouth stretched wide and her tongue anchored, nothing more than an incoherent mess escaped her mouth. The stallion laughed, batting her face with his club of a cock. “Come on now. You can do better.”\n\n\nShe couldn’t be tried anyway, straining in her bindings as if they held her voice down. Nothing of a person came from her. Buzzcunt sounded less than that, less than an animal. Just as her master trained her. Just as she wanted.\n\n\nWhether because he understood her or grew impatient, Ivan jammed his cock down her throat. She’d long suppressed her gag reflex but the sudden thrust almost brought it back. His fat sack bashed her nose when he hilted. His musk swelled with her breaths. He pulled back until the medial ring braced the gag then shoved back in, using her throat like the living sex toy she was. \n\n\nA wet smack echoed across the room from Ivan’s palm to her cunt. His cock prevented her from making grunts but her body writhed. He laughed. “You’re gushing down here.” The stallion slapped her ass once, twice, three times, each with one hand until the final with both. “It always surprises me. Maybe that’s why Mark gets annoyed with you. You love this too much. Fucking sadists like him need discomfort.”\n\n\nHeavy hands grabbed her flanks tight as his heavy flat tongue dragged over her cunt. He lathered her lips and flattened her clit against him without breaking his rhythm. Her legs slacked, held apart by the bar and bindings. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone used their tongue with her, and couldn’t tell whether he was good or sloppy. He was, however, slow. Methodical. Eager to taste every inch of her while all she could do was hang still in the perpetual hanging sixty-nine. \n\n\nHer stamina failed her. Months of edging, denial, and years of not even a finger on her clit crashed against her like a wave. For a moment Buzzcunt thought she was dying. Her lungs burned, her body convulsed, and she screamed garbled nonsense into Ivan’s cock. He continued without care, ramming the mare’s throat and eating through her orgasm until the next. Then the next. Then the next. If she could speak she’d beg him to stop, to let her sensitive parts breathe. She’d have hated him if he did. \n\n\nHis seed surged down her throat. With one final thrust that bashed his balls to her nose, the stallion filled her maw. Strand upon strand hit the back of her throat, pooling thanks to gravity. Tears streamed down her face. Buzzcunt struggled to breathe. The urge to cough, to hurl, bubbled inside her but his cock held her like a cork to a wine bottle. \n\n\nAnother orgasm shook her body. Buzzcunt moaned, screaming into her gag. Chains rattled, unbreakable despite her strength. He kept going as his cum oozed past her lips. He swapped his tongue out with his hand, cracking down on her wet cunt. He said something about puddles but most of it faded from Buzzcunt’s mind. \n\n\nHe pulled out with a pop. Another strand of hot sticky seed splattered the underside of her face. She retched, hurling thick dollops of seed with every burning cough. The scent flooded her nostrils, the salty taste ever present on her tongue. Every breath for life carried the reminder of her place and the mercy of her masters. \n\n\nA small pinging noise echoed around her. Everything else was muted and hazy. The mare tried to close her mouth and panicked when she couldn’t. She screamed for help but her tongue was locked in place. Where was she? Who was she? Her heart raced and her eyes darted about for answers. \n\n\nA warm, wet, and fleshy bludgeon hit her face. “Hey, calm down.” A stallion said. She looked up and found his smiling face familiar, repulsive, and arousing all in one. He chuckled. “Damn. With a reaction like that, you must love choking on my cock.” \n\n\nIvan. Yes, his name was Ivan. She huffed and looked away. He laughed heavily. “Shit, are you too good for me now? I might have to tell Mark how uppity you are. Maybe he’ll get off his ass and give you some much-needed attention.” Kneeling, the stallion held her scalp with a strange gentleness and said, “Or he’ll just say he’s disappointed and continue business as usual. He’s a lazy ass like that. Why else would he make his meal ticket into a workhorse?”\n\n\nTears fell down her cheeks. He was right. Her master would be disappointed and it wouldn’t result in a more active hand. He’d give her more work so she’d relearn her place, eventually making it the norm. He’d done it before, he would do it again. Worse still, she’d love him for it. Because she wasn’t his pretty and pampered slave. She was his mule.\n\n\nIvan lowered her down and removed her gag with a carefulness she wasn’t used to. He stopped boasting, stopped smiling even. His face was placid as if taking care of something he’d almost broken. She would laugh if her master had not beaten such reflexes out of her. The stallion couldn’t break her any further than she already wished. \n\n\nHe stripped the mare of her harness and cuffs. She kneeled without resistance, doing her best to keep calm without her gear. Ivan took a hose and ran cold water down her face, cleaning off the seed and jolting her awake. \n\n\n“I know you don’t talk much, but you can nod your head, right?” Ivan asked, taking a sponge across her body. Buzzcunt bit her lip against the cold sudsy water and nodded. He smiled. “Good. This way I can have a conversation and you can keep silent like you prefer. Everyone wins.”\n\n\nShe wondered why he cared. Why he bothered to wash her down as carefully as he did. Her master just used the hose and Ivan used it earlier, albeit too warm for her liking. She preferred the hose. Things were washed with hoses, not people. \n\n\n“Did Mark ever mention he ran into an old friend of yours?” Ivan asked. Her spine stiffened. She shook her head. “Thought so. He mentioned it offhand to me one day after using my ass.” The stallion snickered at his memory, and the image of her master plowing the bigger stallion turned Buzzcunt’s face red, then green with envy. \n\n\n“He wasn’t actively looking. Said one woman he brought over for a casual evening mentioned having some rich mare friend that all but vanished. He assures me he normally wouldn’t give much of a shit, but he was curious and probed deeper. Then he brought her down here to see you. Do you remember any such visitor?”\n\n\nShe shook her head. “Odd. He says you and her stared right into each other’s eyes, so you must have been awake.” He shrugged the idea off, “In any case, he says she didn’t recognize you at all and he didn’t correct her. So I guess whatever friend she was, she wasn’t a good one.”\n\n\nBuzzcunt remembered none of this. She scanned the faces flashing through her memory, every shocked glance, every curled lip of surprised desire. Not one was familiar to her. Then she tried to imagine her old self, but no visage or form came to her. The closest she could picture was a mare lacking in muscle, a dainty thing with wealth and prospects but no satisfaction. A stranger with a name Buzzcunt couldn’t begin to guess. \n\n\nShe blinked with the expectation of tears but found none. Shock hit her but melancholy didn’t follow. Could it have been satisfaction? No. Buzzcunt bit her lip. Ivan’s thick fingers cradled her neck after drying her off. “I think it’s about time we get you to bed. Stand up.”\n\n\nHe reattached her body harness, locking her wrists to her side by loose chains and keeping her legs tied by ankle cuffs. She opened her mouth for the gag only for Ivan to ignore it in favor of a strange harness he strapped across her face. She noticed a similar one locked around his waist, as though they were part of a matching set.\n\n\nBack in her stable, he laid against the floor mattress her master provided. Pulling Buzzcunt to her knees, he locked her face harness to his belt, putting her face to face with his sheathed cock. \n\n\n“Comfy?” He grinned at the question. Buzzcunt just looked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “I’ll take that as a yes. I don’t expect you to suck me off now, but come morning you best be sucking me off or there’ll be consequences. Goodnight, Buzzcunt.”\n\n\nWith the press of a button darkness swallowed them. She stayed still, feeling his genitals press against her face. The smell stung her nostrils. The straps were too tight to pull away. She bit her lip again, then closed her eyes to rest against the stallion's warm heavy balls. It was the first time since she could remember that Buzzcunt shared a bed with someone. \n\n\nShe slept soundly, even with Ivan’s snoring.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Buzzcunt bristled in the cold wind. The mare huffed, catching the air change into white wisps before vanishing before her eyes. Her chains rattled when she tried to hug herself. Her wrists were never far from her sides, latched onto the leather body harness that exposed her to the elements.


In another time, more a dream than a memory, she didn’t care for winter. It was an excuse to stay indoors or find some new fashion to keep her warm while looking like she belonged far above her social peers. Now she despised it, and what protection from the cold her master gave was a shawl saved for days of heavy snowfall. She looked up as much as her bridle allowed and found not a single cloud in the sky today.


 Buzzcunt didn’t complain. As a slave, she’d long surrendered the right to speak freely. Her master went as far as to ensure her tongue locked in place with whatever gag he latched behind her teeth. Early in her new role, the coyote explained he preferred her mouth preoccupied until she learned not to ask questions. She suspected the reason was a lie.


Even if she had the right, it would fall on deaf ears. Her surrender sacrificed the privilege of empathy. Mark, her master, treated her as no more than an object, now scarcely using the epithet he’d put in place of her name. To his guests, she was an attraction. Something to be curious about but ultimately ignored in favor of her master’s attention. Only one guest, if she could even call him that for the frequency of his visits, seemed willing to care if she listened. Yet for some reason that urged her to keep quiet, as if Ivan’s pity made her lesser than what she already was.


She stood tall in the cold breeze as the stallion chopped wood to the side of her. Though layered in a winter jacket she could see his muscles tense with each swing of the ax. Logs split with ease under the weight of his blow. Buzzcunt knew the strength of those calloused hands. He’d explored every inch of her labor-trained muscular body with them, even the places her master offered only whip or cane.


Ivan winked back when he caught her staring. She looked away, silently wishing he’d reprimand her for looking at him without permission. Mark made that lesson clear so early she couldn’t remember how. Ivan seemed dead set on challenging her reforged nature.


He loaded firewood onto the wagon she’d been hitched to. A small one, easy compared to the plow. “Cold, isn’t it?” Ivan said, taking a switch and lining it under her hardened nipples. Buzzcunt blew a puff of white air and looked forward. Despite her blinders, she knew Ivan smiled. “Don’t worry, Buzzcunt,” he said, clasping her breast in his palm and squeezing just enough for her to wince. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and warm inside. You might even get a treat. Mark’s not here to tell me no.”


Buzzcunt’s loyalty to her master did not make the offer less titillating. She’d prefer it if Mark delivered it by hand, but he was out traveling on business that was not her place to ask. Even if he wasn’t, the coyote wouldn’t offer it. If he wanted her to cum, she would cum regardless. If he didn’t, as he had for the past several months, she wouldn’t. She knew this before. It was her stick and her carrot.


But Ivan wanted her to know he was offering it. He wanted to please her, or at least to think she deserved pleasure so long as she pleased him. Buzzcunt was not so stupid to believe he’d do this out of kindness in his heart. Not that it mattered. She was property and he was her master until the coyote’s return. If he demanded her to jump, she’d jump and would accept any punishment for failing to meet the expectations.


So she did not let the desire of his proposal slip her mask. For now, she had one job, to pull the wagon where he desired. Once filled with lumber, Ivan directed her toward the house across cold mudslicked earth. Any falter in her pace was answered with a switch. Mark had conditioned pain to be her pedal.


The firewood wasn’t for her. Buzzcunt’s stable in the house had just a space heater for cold nights. Ivan mentioned something about a fireplace in her master’s living room. Remembering that she was not to consider such things she brushed the thought aside. Once the wagon was unhitched and wood put away the stallion led her back into the only home she’d known for years.


With care, Ivan laid her flat against the concrete floor. Buzzcunt’s legs ached with the pause. She was so used to staying on her feet when awake that the respite was almost painful yet remarkably relaxing. The euphoria of rest her body felt laying back nearly closed her eyes. She’d have fallen asleep if her ankles weren’t suddenly locked to a spreader bar.


A machine whirred to life. The cranking sound of a pulley echoed across cold cement walls. Buzzcunt felt her legs rising against her will. She peered down to find a thick meathook latched onto her spreader bar. Buzzcunt huffed in confusion, fighting not to struggle as the hook pulled her up, stopping once she was suspended upside down.


“So many toys, and he barely uses them.” Ivan stripped out of jacket and overalls, revealing the bulging gut and thick trunk of a shaft growing from his seeth. Saliva pooled at the site of it despite herself.


“Personally,” Ivan kneeled, opened her mouth, and unlatched the gag locked to her tongue, “I think Mark takes you for granted. You don’t complain, don’t use safewords, and you’ve got the perfect amazonian body he helped chisel. Yet he barely gives you the time of day, even when you’re working. It’s a waste.”


Even if Buzzcount wanted to speak, the stallion held her tongue by its piercing between two thick fingers. Reflexive grunts escaped her maw as he locked it open with a ring-gag, wide enough to allow his cock. She remembered being shocked the first time Mark had given it to her, not realizing he’d been steadily training her jaw to take more and more. Ivan whistled to himself as he screwed her piercing into the gag’s base to keep her tongue in place.


Drool overflowed from the roof of her mouth. He let her twirl, continuing to whistle some jaunty tune. The creak of a spigot sent goosebumps across her skin. She tried to slip free despite her conditioning, profoundly pleading noises that might have been words to anyone who didn’t know her true self.


Water blasted against her back. Expecting to feel cold water she screamed. To her shock, it was warm water that wet her back. Ivan chuckled, spraying her dirty mud-drenched fur with the indoor hose.


“Surprised? I won’t tell Mark if you won’t.”


Buzzcunt couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt warm water. The mare knew of showers and baths. She had them regularly before Mark. They were barely memories now. More concepts she knew. Her body relaxed in the torrent, all the aches washing away with the dirt and grime.


Ivan, no doubt noticing this, thumbed the spray right as it crossed over her cunt. Buzzcunt curled up against the sudden pressure. He laughed. “Don’t get too comfy. This isn’t some five-star treatment.”


The rinse ended as suddenly as it started. The absence of heat coiled around her body like a sealed bag deprived of air. Droplets clattered on the floor underneath her. Drip, drip, drip. Ivan’s warm hands clasped her thighs and gently squeezed.


“Never thought I’d like muscle on a woman.” His touch dragged over every pronounced muscle she had. From her biceps, her legs, the abdominals barely hidden by a layer of fat she built up for the winter. “But the way he’s molded you just makes them look so right. You’d be some amazonian goddess if not for the chains. Instead, you’re just a workhorse.” He slapped her chiseled ass, winced, and shook the same hand. “One that can take a beating.”


Goddess. Someone had called her that before. She remembered faces, suitors who lied with honeyed smiles to get a piece of her. The memory made her sick. She was no goddess. Her master knew that, knew it before she realized it herself. She was so much less.


The memories faded when Ivan turned her around to face his crotch. His cock stood tall, with visible veins on both sides separated by the medial ring. Buzzcunt huffed hints of his scent. Her tongue twitched for it, fruitlessly struggling in its anchored place. With a small sadistic laugh, he patted her cheek with the log of meat.


“Beg for it.” He commanded. Buzzcunt’s confusion broke through her training. His wicked grin grew wider as a nightmarish scowl from her view. “Mark told me he beat the begging out of you, but I don’t believe it. I think you just know he finds you stroking his ego repulsive. Me though? Well, I’m not Mark.”


Buzzcunt learned long ago that her mouth was meant for sustenance and the pleasure of others. She was constantly gagged because of this. The grunts she made were reflexive, uncontrollable instincts to pain and pleasure that her master allowed. She’d never needed to speak.


Except when Ivan commanded it. Ivan, who ordered her to cry out for his name. Ivan, who treated her just enough above her station that a new pain seeped through her body. Regret. It didn’t stay long, but in the moments it came she was lucid enough to imagine what life would be like if she’d met Ivan first. Happiness was not a question. Nor was her satisfaction. But would it have been more fitting? She couldn’t put it into words.


With her mouth stretched wide and her tongue anchored, nothing more than an incoherent mess escaped her mouth. The stallion laughed, batting her face with his club of a cock. “Come on now. You can do better.”


She couldn’t be tried anyway, straining in her bindings as if they held her voice down. Nothing of a person came from her. Buzzcunt sounded less than that, less than an animal. Just as her master trained her. Just as she wanted.


Whether because he understood her or grew impatient, Ivan jammed his cock down her throat. She’d long suppressed her gag reflex but the sudden thrust almost brought it back. His fat sack bashed her nose when he hilted. His musk swelled with her breaths. He pulled back until the medial ring braced the gag then shoved back in, using her throat like the living sex toy she was.


A wet smack echoed across the room from Ivan’s palm to her cunt. His cock prevented her from making grunts but her body writhed. He laughed. “You’re gushing down here.” The stallion slapped her ass once, twice, three times, each with one hand until the final with both. “It always surprises me. Maybe that’s why Mark gets annoyed with you. You love this too much. Fucking sadists like him need discomfort.”


Heavy hands grabbed her flanks tight as his heavy flat tongue dragged over her cunt. He lathered her lips and flattened her clit against him without breaking his rhythm. Her legs slacked, held apart by the bar and bindings. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone used their tongue with her, and couldn’t tell whether he was good or sloppy. He was, however, slow. Methodical. Eager to taste every inch of her while all she could do was hang still in the perpetual hanging sixty-nine.


Her stamina failed her. Months of edging, denial, and years of not even a finger on her clit crashed against her like a wave. For a moment Buzzcunt thought she was dying. Her lungs burned, her body convulsed, and she screamed garbled nonsense into Ivan’s cock. He continued without care, ramming the mare’s throat and eating through her orgasm until the next. Then the next. Then the next. If she could speak she’d beg him to stop, to let her sensitive parts breathe. She’d have hated him if he did.


His seed surged down her throat. With one final thrust that bashed his balls to her nose, the stallion filled her maw. Strand upon strand hit the back of her throat, pooling thanks to gravity. Tears streamed down her face. Buzzcunt struggled to breathe. The urge to cough, to hurl, bubbled inside her but his cock held her like a cork to a wine bottle.


Another orgasm shook her body. Buzzcunt moaned, screaming into her gag. Chains rattled, unbreakable despite her strength. He kept going as his cum oozed past her lips. He swapped his tongue out with his hand, cracking down on her wet cunt. He said something about puddles but most of it faded from Buzzcunt’s mind.


He pulled out with a pop. Another strand of hot sticky seed splattered the underside of her face. She retched, hurling thick dollops of seed with every burning cough. The scent flooded her nostrils, the salty taste ever present on her tongue. Every breath for life carried the reminder of her place and the mercy of her masters.


A small pinging noise echoed around her. Everything else was muted and hazy. The mare tried to close her mouth and panicked when she couldn’t. She screamed for help but her tongue was locked in place. Where was she? Who was she? Her heart raced and her eyes darted about for answers.


A warm, wet, and fleshy bludgeon hit her face. “Hey, calm down.” A stallion said. She looked up and found his smiling face familiar, repulsive, and arousing all in one. He chuckled. “Damn. With a reaction like that, you must love choking on my cock.”


Ivan. Yes, his name was Ivan. She huffed and looked away. He laughed heavily. “Shit, are you too good for me now? I might have to tell Mark how uppity you are. Maybe he’ll get off his ass and give you some much-needed attention.” Kneeling, the stallion held her scalp with a strange gentleness and said, “Or he’ll just say he’s disappointed and continue business as usual. He’s a lazy ass like that. Why else would he make his meal ticket into a workhorse?”


Tears fell down her cheeks. He was right. Her master would be disappointed and it wouldn’t result in a more active hand. He’d give her more work so she’d relearn her place, eventually making it the norm. He’d done it before, he would do it again. Worse still, she’d love him for it. Because she wasn’t his pretty and pampered slave. She was his mule.


Ivan lowered her down and removed her gag with a carefulness she wasn’t used to. He stopped boasting, stopped smiling even. His face was placid as if taking care of something he’d almost broken. She would laugh if her master had not beaten such reflexes out of her. The stallion couldn’t break her any further than she already wished.


He stripped the mare of her harness and cuffs. She kneeled without resistance, doing her best to keep calm without her gear. Ivan took a hose and ran cold water down her face, cleaning off the seed and jolting her awake.


“I know you don’t talk much, but you can nod your head, right?” Ivan asked, taking a sponge across her body. Buzzcunt bit her lip against the cold sudsy water and nodded. He smiled. “Good. This way I can have a conversation and you can keep silent like you prefer. Everyone wins.”


She wondered why he cared. Why he bothered to wash her down as carefully as he did. Her master just used the hose and Ivan used it earlier, albeit too warm for her liking. She preferred the hose. Things were washed with hoses, not people.


“Did Mark ever mention he ran into an old friend of yours?” Ivan asked. Her spine stiffened. She shook her head. “Thought so. He mentioned it offhand to me one day after using my ass.” The stallion snickered at his memory, and the image of her master plowing the bigger stallion turned Buzzcunt’s face red, then green with envy.


“He wasn’t actively looking. Said one woman he brought over for a casual evening mentioned having some rich mare friend that all but vanished. He assures me he normally wouldn’t give much of a shit, but he was curious and probed deeper. Then he brought her down here to see you. Do you remember any such visitor?”


She shook her head. “Odd. He says you and her stared right into each other’s eyes, so you must have been awake.” He shrugged the idea off, “In any case, he says she didn’t recognize you at all and he didn’t correct her. So I guess whatever friend she was, she wasn’t a good one.”


Buzzcunt remembered none of this. She scanned the faces flashing through her memory, every shocked glance, every curled lip of surprised desire. Not one was familiar to her. Then she tried to imagine her old self, but no visage or form came to her. The closest she could picture was a mare lacking in muscle, a dainty thing with wealth and prospects but no satisfaction. A stranger with a name Buzzcunt couldn’t begin to guess.


She blinked with the expectation of tears but found none. Shock hit her but melancholy didn’t follow. Could it have been satisfaction? No. Buzzcunt bit her lip. Ivan’s thick fingers cradled her neck after drying her off. “I think it’s about time we get you to bed. Stand up.”


He reattached her body harness, locking her wrists to her side by loose chains and keeping her legs tied by ankle cuffs. She opened her mouth for the gag only for Ivan to ignore it in favor of a strange harness he strapped across her face. She noticed a similar one locked around his waist, as though they were part of a matching set.


Back in her stable, he laid against the floor mattress her master provided. Pulling Buzzcunt to her knees, he locked her face harness to his belt, putting her face to face with his sheathed cock.


“Comfy?” He grinned at the question. Buzzcunt just looked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “I’ll take that as a yes. I don’t expect you to suck me off now, but come morning you best be sucking me off or there’ll be consequences. Goodnight, Buzzcunt.”


With the press of a button darkness swallowed them. She stayed still, feeling his genitals press against her face. The smell stung her nostrils. The straps were too tight to pull away. She bit her lip again, then closed her eyes to rest against the stallion's warm heavy balls. It was the first time since she could remember that Buzzcunt shared a bed with someone.


She slept soundly, even with Ivan’s snoring.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Workhorse Part 4 (Commission)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "279" }