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The two horses drank from a fast-running stream taking large mouthfuls of chilled water into their cheeks and swallowing with haste. Behind them a man dressed in brown leather and fur, shovelled snow over the remnants of a fire with his foot and stamped on the remaining embers. The female horse looked back, her stunning crimson red mane shifting in the still air, and saw the man hoisting two leather packs onto either shoulder.

"We better finish up," she announced to her riding companion. The man was often impatient and sometimes left at a moment's notice; every time they were led to water it was always in their interest to drink. A full day's ride was never pleasant when thirsty. The male drank a little faster.

True to the man's form he clicked his tongue to beckon his mounts towards him but before they even raised their heads from the stream he was already fastening his packs to the male's harness. Each time they were a little lighter and after a week on the trail the male hardly noticed them, save for when they would stop suddenly and the weight shifted uncomfortably. The man grumbled under his breath and swore. Both horses took this as a sign there was still some way left to go.

They came upon a narrow wooden bridge, hastily built with additional twine wrapped around the joints to support the frayed sections and the man dismounted the mare, swung his rifle from his back and cocked it. A coyote sat watching them from under a white spruce on the far side; as unmoving as the air they breathed. The female snorted a little laugh.

"Crimson..." the male said shaking his head. "If he wants to feel useful, let him!"

"Better with him than without, I suppose," she replied. "There are bears and cougars too. Ever seen a bear, Cedar?"

The gelding didn't answer and the mare didn't need one. He crunched the snow beneath his hoof and watched as the man hurled a stone over the gully. It clattered on the rocks behind the coyote sending it sprinting in the woods. The man swung his rifle over his back and hoisted himself back on Crimson, pulling her to the side slightly while grumbling and swearing the entire time.

They crossed the bridge single file with the man holding tight onto Crimson's reins, forcing her head still and gait steady. She struggled against them out of habit and the man slapped his hand against her flank and after a moment Crimson settled.

"In heat... At this time of year?"

Crimson stopped abruptly. The man almost lost his balance, grasping her neck with both arms as he was shunted forward. Her tail inadvertently rose as Cedar, with no time to stop, jabbed her exposed vulva with his nose and snorted. She tensed then shivered at the sensation against her folds, the warm breath rolling against her sensitive flesh, and winking a few times in quick succession. She remained motionless and submissive, waiting to something to happen that she couldn't see but it never came. The man was swearing again, louder than usual, and brought Crimson back to her senses with two heels to the chest and eventually she regained her composure and continued forward.

A fire crackled in the dwindling dusk light as the man collected branches and sticks and left them in a pile to dry. The horses' halters, packs and saddles lay next to it and with the extra mobility, Crimson grasped as large a piece of wood as she could and began adding them to the pile.

"Good girl," the man praised, scratching her along her flank with his worn glove.

Crimson trilled happily and for a moment the man almost smiled. With the halters and other equipment on the floor she felt a little lost; responsible perhaps. To her, they represented her well-being and interests being taken care of - someone else had taken charge and she only had to follow. Maybe tomorrow she would wake up to find they had already gone? Silly mare! she thought as she saw Cedar fast asleep between the flames and a large rock. Everything was fine and there was no reason to think otherwise. As the fire grew she laid down and occasionally turned to even the heat across her body.

A strong gust blew the fire out sometime in the night and before the first glow of light reached over the mountains a heavy fog had already set in. The man was frantically packing away his bedroll and other equipment, some of which had been strewn a little way from the campsite. The rifle never left his hand. Eventually they set back out on the trail with the man walking between the two horses and gazing back every few hundred steps.

Perhaps it was the enveloping cold, or more likely Crimson's 'condition', that led her to feel agitated. Maybe the fact of the man walking alongside her and missing the weight on her back caused her to be uncomfortable. Unsettled. Cedar appeared almost asleep and took each step without a thought and repeated the process until the man stopped and reins tugged at his muzzle.

That stupid horse frustrated Crimson to no end. Older in his age but clueless in all respects. That was to be expected from something that lived on a farm for most of his life doing donkey work. And he wasn't even a stallion! She snorted, shaking the reins and stamped her hooves a little until the man patted her neck and she calmed down. I bet he could satisfy me, she pondered; only if he were that way inclined.

By the afternoon the fog had lifted. While it was still cold, the direct sunlight gave a little relief as it melted the sprinklings of ice from their coats and after a while it dried. The rifle was back over the man's shoulder and they stopped by a winding river to drink. The faintest of aromas came off the surface of the water and up Crimson's nose as her nostrils flared. What _was_it? Subtle and somewhat... inviting, with no obvious source. She lowered herself down on the silt to investigate it further, tasting the air with her tongue then shot back into the air with a suppressed squeal. Just behind her back legs was a large smooth stone that she had apparently sat on with a thick fluid slowing dribbling down from the top. The mare stood in confusion for a moment as a couple more drips fell and moistened the stone further.

It was her!

She clenched her lips against the air and squirted on the ground with her tail flicking the liquid around her legs. Somehow, Crimson had managed to ignore her heat to the best of her ability over the past few days, focusing on the direction and guidance of the man and mission they followed. But that scent... It was primal and consuming and her attention was wavering. Just as she had begun to crouch down again the man came past her, swearing and grumbling, and filled a short bucket with water and pushed it into Crimson's face. He had seen her raised tail, the mess she had made, her lack of attention and came to the correct conclusion; a mare in heat was a difficult beast and patience was not his forte.

That afternoon had the man in a foul mood. Crimson's saddle and packs had been removed and attached to Cedar while the man walked on foot between them, guiding with the reins and complaining each time the rifle slid down his arm and was readjusted over his shoulder. It had started to snow.

After a mere half mile they stopped again and retreated into the woods and the relative shelter. This time, the tent was erected and the man sat at the entrance in front of the fire and inhaled deeply into a pipe, seemingly unaware and uncaring of his surroundings, but the rifle always close to hand. Cedar was methodically picking individual blades of grass with his teeth in an ever increasing circle around the camp.

The mare, however, was not hungry. Not for food at least. Slowly she stepped backwards, away from the camp, and when she was sure she hadn't been spotted she turned and trotted west in the direction of the river. Her tail constantly twitched and guided her through the trees and to the snow beginning to pile up at the banks. The river was narrower here, and a little shallower, but ran fast. Everything coated in white, save the river itself which was as clear as the occasional chunk it ice it carried away.

It carried something else too. That intoxicating, irresistible scent; more than just a rumour this time. Much more. She raised and lowered her head several times, turning slightly to gauge the direction and source, and when she opened her eyes she saw it. Him, to be precise, for his size and bulk made that obvious. A stunning example of a stallion with a dark grey body and white mane.

Crimson, including her tail, stood very still.

The stallion appeared unperturbed. He leaned forward to taste the air and after rolling the scent over his teeth, stepped forward through the river with purpose. The river, as fast as it flowed, did nothing to shake his solid frame and before the mare could think clearly he was beside her. Droplets pooling by her hooves.

"I could tell," he declared, "that you didn't look like the others."

Crimson melted a little. Whatever words she had evaporated along with her breath as she saw her own green eyes reflected in his. Her submissive tendencies betrayed and exaggerated by seeing herself in this state. As a foal would submit to the authority of its sire. He gently grasped her crimson red mane in his teeth and brushed it over neck, sticking it in place with a lick. Such powerful control. Clearly he had done this before and it only made him more desirable to the mare; he was a prize and she felt worthy.

Her nose followed his neck and along his chest absorbing the scent that forced her here and used the excuse to dip her head under his stomach at the origin of the aroma. In front of her eyes was the stallion's heavy sheath and weighty balls, solid black in contrast to the grey body. They bounced a little as he shifted his weight and the tip of his penis fell free and twitched in the cold air. Crimson exhaled deeply over the stallion's exposed self, delighting in his involuntary movements of pleasure and took the tip into her mouth and cradled it on her tongue. She could feel the blood pulsing rapidly and within few mere seconds it was already a mouthful and she gagged, forcing it back along her tongue and out.

Crimson came out from under him with her tongue lolling weakly to see his expression. Surely this would show her desire. But he was already stepping around to force his muzzle under her tail, his almost fully-erect member swinging wildly between them. The moment she sensed the heat of his breath she fell to her knees on the stony bank and heard something else. Something familiar. The man came running. Shouting, swearing and waving the rifle. She clambered to her feet.

"You better go!" she cried, taking a few steps away then turning back. The stallion hadn't moved and from this angle his erection was sadly hidden.

For a moment Crimson faltered. Torn between two males she ought to obey. But in the end she carried on walking, for the man had slowed his pace and was aiming the rifle in the air and it could make a terrible sound. When he caught up with her he held the reins tight and went back the way he came, ever watchful of the large and unmoving beast behind them.

The man worked Crimson hard for the next two days. Her burden included all of Cedar's packs and anything empty was filled with rocks and added to the load. She looked a sorry state struggling up the inclines as they became heavier from the wet snow soaking the material. Sometimes she would check behind for just a moment only to yanked back into line with the reins. If the man could understand her words she may have apologised; although she certainly wouldn't have meant it.

By the third day the ground became even and dipped into a mountain valley. A single, diminutive farmstead stood alone in the middle consisting of a small house, an attached barn of equal size and a few dozen trees of some unknown fruit, empty and lifeless for the winter. As they came down the slope a small figure came running taking several minutes to reach them, and when the young boy finally did, he briefly spoke to the man, took something in his hand and ran back.

Eventually they reached the property themselves. The boy came out again and after the man removed the packs from Crimson, the child led the horses to the barn. It was a spacious and clean affair, painted quite recently and apparently unused in a while. The stalls were filled with fresh hay and one end opened out onto a paddock where an attempt had been made to clear the snow and to allow the grass a chance to grow. The boy tried to release the reins from Crimson but she was too tired and worn to tolerate his clumsy efforts and after a few slaps to the face with a leather strap he gave up and left. She thought about joining Cedar near the door to eat but instead laid down for a moment. Just for a moment. She could eat later.

When Crimson awoke it was dark. A strange, faint noise emanated from the stall beside her and it took her a while to realise it was Cedar lightly snoring in the hay. She remembered where she was and how they got there and noticed a stream of moonlight stretching across from the paddock door. It was open, just a little, but open nonetheless. Her nose twitched and before she knew it she was making her way towards the opening and squeezed through the gap. The night was impeccably clear and the air perfectly still. She inhaled deeply.

That scent. That musk. By now she knew exactly what, or who, it was but even if she was somehow confused, the stallion assisted her by standing on the inside of the fence slowly swinging his tail. Crimson looked around for an excuse or reason to not be here but she had none. Nobody, save for a sleeping Cedar, was nearby. She had nowhere else that she had to be. Nobody to dictate her behaviour. She lowered her head and slowly walked towards him.

The stallion remained completely still except for his tail and when Crimson came close he tilted his head and sniffed her mane carefully, then chewed the edges of the reins and bit her neck lightly but firmly. Crimson shuddered under his touch, arching her neck and feeling the first drop of arousal seep out from under her tail, which had begun to flag as high as it would allow. Their eyes caught each other and in them the mare easily betrayed her desires. They begged her stallion to mount her. To use her and fill her; for she would be submissive to his wishes.

He gripped the edge of her reins in his teeth and lowered her head to the ground. It didn't need to be done but he wanted her to know in herself just how submissive she was going to be. And this is how it would be. From her lowered sight line she could see him crane his head around and under her tail, and between his legs those impressive testicles shifting under the movement of his frame, that weighty sheath struggling to contain her prize. Crimson could feel her slit winking furiously, squirting her essence and begging for his touch. He was breathing right inside her. Hot and moist air coated her inner walls and as her lust began to heighten she saw his cock emerge from the sheath, expanding with every one of her own quickened heartbeats.

Why hadn't he mounted her yet? Why hadn't he _touched_her yet? The mare was getting finicky shifting the balance between her back legs while trying to keep them taut in preparation for carrying his weight on her back. She squirmed in equal parts of eager desperation and frustration, party at his refusal to pleasure her, but also with his level of control. No other male had ever stood so calm, so close to her when she was giving herself to him, and especially when sporting such a massive erection. What was this insufferable delay?! Did he not think she was good enough? Crimson tried to force a response by leaning back into his muzzle but the contact never came.

Instead he bit her sharply on the rump and drew blood. This stallion, of which she didn't even know his name, was in charge and only he would decide when they would mate. Crimson was at a loss. Nothing further on her part could apparently influence him so she stood as still as her apprehension would allow and rhythmically winked her vulva at his nose, grasping his hot breath as her only stimulation. She was exceptionally wet. Fluid dripping from her vent and seeping down her legs. Waiting.

When the stallion gave a single, long lick she almost climaxed on the spot. Her breathing became ragged and the winking intensified, squeezing and tightening at a tongue that was no longer there. A whimper escaped her mouth.

"Please..." she managed.

He caught her eye from behind her flagged tail then shifted his body behind her, cock swinging heavily and jerking from the tip. After a final snort he raised up on his back legs and mounted her. Inch by inch he repositioned his weight further and further up her back as Crimson struggled to keep still and prepare herself. He paused for just a moment then thrust hard and penetrated her in one.

His cock slipped easily into Crimson's warm and wet foldsand she incessantly squeezed him out of pure instinct, the thick girth making it an incredibly tight fit. As his balls compressed her clitoris she threw her head back and the reins flipped over and into the stallions mouth. He bit down and wrenched them to the side as he slowly pulled his cock back and and thrust himself inside her once again.

She was utterly helpless yet so utterly aroused. This feral stallion had complete ownership of her body from his cock deeply penetrated inside her to even what she could see. Each forceful thrust inside and wave of heated pleasure matched to a yank on the reins.

Crimson tried to hug her sex against his shaft but each time the halters threw her off. It was clear she no control or say in how this mating was to proceed and for that she was relieved. A good hard mating was all she had needed since before she met this fine creature and very quickly she conceded what little control and direction she had. She let her head be forced in any direction of the stallion's choosing as he mated her hard. Her tongue hung loosely out of her mouth and she accidental bit it as her climax hit her, rippling from his ridges as they stroked her inner flesh.

The stallion could feel the change in her posture and he pulled the reins tighter, thrusting faster and faster until he pulled them back so far he was staring her in the eye as he came. His teeth bared and inside her to the hilt, Crimson struggled to stay standing as the powerful, heated spurts painted her uterus with feral, fertile seed. She could feel his cock compress in a wave along its entire length as he filled her. After half a minute the ejaculations had slowed to a trickle and he released the halters from his teeth. A few moments later his cock slipped free to be followed by a stream of warm seed.

It took a while for Crimson to properly regain her breath, her tail flagged the entire time revealing the evidence of their mating trickling down her legs. Her mouth felt almost as hot as her rear and she realised the stallion was biting softly on her ear. She murmured happily and when he stopped she stretched her neck and twisted out the stiffness.

He was erect again. Erect and covered with both of their juices and dripping from the tip. Crimson looked back into his dark eyes then turned to face him with her rear, her tail flagging as high, if not higher, than before. She leaned back.

She felt no contact and before she could steady herself she had tumbled backwards and fell on her back with all four legs flailing in the air. The stallion stood over her with his huge length between them.

"I am Fir, by the way," he said with a nod.

"Crimson..." she replied.

Fir smiled and lowered himself. His cock bounced on her chest and he dragged it backwards leaving a sticky trail to her inviting slit. He left it resting on her winking lips as Crimson flexed them and tried to shuffle and slip him inside but she could do very little in this position. She whimpered involuntarily.

He lowered his dark grey body a little further and pushed himself inside up to the tip and no more. Crimson tightened her pussy immediately. She squeezed him, milked a few drops of seed and then the pressure popped it out. She whimpered again and wriggled, but to no effect. His cock swung back a little and bumped against her as tried, and failed, to grip it.

"Say it," he said with a grin.

There was no other way.

"Please..."

He rewarded her immediately by pushing his entire length into her up to the hilt. Their previous mating provided a lot of lucubration and he took long, slow thrusts, punctuating each second thrust by stroking the underside of her neck with his nose. Crimson had never mated on her back before and she took the opportunity to concentrate on being taken instead of collapsing. The warmth between them, the effortless and all-consuming pleasure beginning from the tip of his cock and stretching along the entirety of his length and travelling along every nerve she possessed. At one point she may have passed out, she couldn't tell, but she was fully aware when he filled her a second time and the torrent of seed that leaked onto her tail despite the fact he remained inside her.

The two horses stayed in this position until Fir's cock retreated of its own accord. He raised himself and stepped backwards, marvelling at the beautiful mare below perfectly pleasured with her legs apart and soaked with his essence. She wasn't anything like the mares of the mountains, lowlands, or anywhere. But he couldn't stay here. The man with the gun was enough to give him consideration.

Reluctantly, Fir lent down and passionately kissed Crimson. He stroked the underside of her neck one last time then turned and cleared the fence with a single bound, trotting into the treeline and off into the night. Crimson lay recuperating for a while longer and only when her fluid-soaked rump began to chill did she make her way back to her stall in the barn; her heat was sated for now, at least.

Crimson awoke to a shuffling in the barn. It appeared clumsy and disorganised and that didn't sit well with a mare with a short night's sleep.

"Cedar..." she muttered. "Keep it down..." The shuffling didn't stop. It came even closer.

She was about to get up and either bite Cedar if it was him or find somewhere else if it was the humans, when she opened her eyes to see a large black cock dangling in front of her. At the top were two hefty balls. It had to be Fir. She craned her head around to see the stallion grinning back.

"Morning, beautiful," he announced, and tensed his penis so it bumped her in the face.

The smells, and memories, of the previous night came back to her. She smiled to herself and inhaled the mixture of her own scent and her stallion's intoxicating musk. Like nothing had happened she began to lick his tip ever so slowly.

Fir flexed his cock with every contact. This was not a reaction even he could control. Crimson kept her pace steady and varied her licks a little each time to keep him guessing. Sometimes she would wrap her tongue around his width and hold it for a moment, give it a little squeeze and relish in the pulsing sensations.

She thought this time it was her in control. But Fir was jerking his cock harder each time and was eager for more than just tiny licks and grips. He turned to the side and jabbed her in the mouth until she opened it and he slid his length down her throat. The tip was leaking profusely and spread pre all around her open maw. Crimson reciprocated fully and stroked the underside of his cock with her rougher tongue and sucked as much as she could given what little space he had given her. He was far, _far_too big to take all the way but she took him as much as possible, twisting her head to rub her tongue in different places.

Perhaps it was Crimson paying attention this time instead of being serviced, but she could hear Fir's pleasured moans and once she swore she saw his legs almost buckle. The stallion was doing his best not to thrust and suffocate the smaller mare but occasionally he failed. She choked but never bit and returned to sucking him off with more vigour than before as drips seeped out of her mouth and along her cheeks. His breathing was becoming erratic. She picked up her pace and tightened her throat.

Fir's balls pulled taut against his body and his movements slowed to a tremble.

In an instant he exploded, his cock pulsing and shuddering as it sent spurt after spurt of seed straight down her throat; she didn't even have to swallow. Crimson closed her eyes and held on tight as she relished in pleasing her male and as the spurts became less forceful she sucked along in time and swallowed what she could. Fir was a producer, that was for sure, and before his penis began to grow soft his essence was leaking from her lips. She cradled it in her mouth and before it slipped out she licked it clean and nuzzled Fir's chest as he recovered.

After a few moments he laid down next to her. Content and relaxed.

"Shouldn't you be..." Crimson began to say then stopped. He did what he wanted anyway. And if he wanted to stay then that was more than fine with her.