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"Mr Tammerly has done very well for himself, my dear," the basset hound said to his wife, dropping a second lump of sugar into his cup. "Why, only four years ago, the name of Tammerly was scarcely known. Second son of a third son, perhaps. An object of ridicule at worst; presumptuous interest at most."

The hyena stared dispassionately at the basset as the hound spoke, occasionally reaching for a small square of roast beef sandwich and dropping it into his mouth. The white poodle sitting next to the dog stared at him with wide eyes whenever he did; a cucumber sandwich sat, half-nibbled, in one impossibly tiny paw. Likely, the soft little thing had never seen anyone larger than a collie that she couldn't immediately order around. Upon finishing each sandwich, he'd smile toothily at her. Have a little show, my dear.

"Why, why, as I say to the Lord Mayor most every time I see him," the basset continued, oblivious to all but the sound of his milquetoast, stammering voice, "the remarkable Mr Tammerly is proof that even indigenes of most savage origin might integrate into civilised society, if given the right impetus." He gestured about the grounds with the sugar spoon, sending a small blizzard of crystals flying. "All of this, in a mere three years! Remarkable." He stirred his tea. "Remarkable, sir," he repeated. "You are a credit to your species."

Tammerly nodded in thanks, and brushed some sugar from his waistcoat with a firm paw. "Your fiancé is too kind, Lady Pemberton," he said, addressing the tiny poodle. She smiled as if afraid the action would split her face like paper. "Lord Pemberton's words -- now, as always -- both buoy my spirit and hearten me to face the challenges ahead." He harrumphed, and raised a stern finger. "For though you say I have done much, I feel I am yet on the back paw. I have so much more in mind..."

The conversation went on interminably. Pemberton would attempt to impress his beau with his obvious familiarity with the most infamous soon-to-be-lord in the country, and Tammerly would defer the praise, and feign respect and interest in the basset hound's endless prattle, and feed him titbits of potential future plans. So was the game played. Tammerly gained a reputation for being like any civilised person -- his teeth could crack a boiler, and yet you should hear him speak! Such a cultured voice -- and Lord Pemberton got a hint as to where to position himself to best slide higher on Tammerly's coat-tails. How very tiresome.

The sandwiches were delicious, though.

To one side, a footman stood, still as a statue in the warm spring sun. The Pembertons had brought him with them. A stallion, tan, with a black-tipped nose. Almost brutishly large -- odd, for a footman. The hyena ran an eye over him as the basset hound yapped something about shipments and profit margins. Well-made, certainly. When the dog took a moment to pause and gulp down a macaroon, the hyena yawned, letting his mouth do what perhaps no other force on the planet could, and in the ensuing deathly silence, he gestured lazily at the footman before taking another sandwich for himself.

"He seems awfully large for a footman." He ate the square, giving his guest permission to respond.

Pemberton hardly glanced across, seemingly discomfited by the sight of the hyena's tremendously toothed maw. "Kigane?" His voice was one rung above a sneer. "He does well enough. Large, as you say. But with such a mass of bags as we had brought along, I thought it best." He paused, an errant thought finally squirrelling its way into his mind from whatever distant sphere it had been orbiting. "Oh -- do you have servant's quarters made up? I can always have him sleep in the car..."

"My dear Pemberton," the hyena said smoothly, "but of course." He paused for a second, and gave a somewhat less toothy smile, joined by a smirk. "We are not animals, after all."

Pemberton's guffaw obliterated his wife's matching titter, and Tammerly smiled. Oh, Mr Tammerly is a card! So witty. Such a way with words. You certainly must lunch with him. Oh, certainly he is fit to be a lord, I have no doubt. As the two dogs' chittering laughter played out, the hyena's eyes slid across to the horse again. His long face was tilted sternly upward, eyes fixed on the heavens to avoid the uncomfortable possibility of meeting the gaze of a better. Even through his endless layers of clothing, the hyena could tell he had the body of a labourer. And while he appeared all but sexless through the obscuring fabric...he was still a stallion. Even the most disappointing stallion would do for a little fun.

Luncheon drifted into dinner, and prattle filled Tammerly End as they retired indoors for the repast. The hyena was bright-eyed and attentive throughout, making sure to ask just the right questions to keep his guest running the conversation. Mentally, he compared the basset hound against the others he'd entertained in the last few months, and concluded that he was by far the most insipid. The way his drooping ears gave him a perpetually melancholic look, or the way he continually wiped at his horrifyingly wet nose with a pocket square. How was that cloth not yet soaked through? Simply hideous. And that was before one gave attention to his measly, rheumy eyes...

Canines were truly repugnant.

Mercifully, eventually, the hound yawned, and Tammerly leapt upon the opportunity as his ancient ancestors had done to countless antelope. "My Lord," he simpered, "forgive me for keeping you up. You are, of course, exhausted." The basset blinked, and then nodded, as if realising that he -- in fact, now that you mention it, and I hardly even took notice until now, how time does fly -- was. Tammerly gestured towards a sweeping staircase. "We may speak again at length on the morrow, once you and your delightful wife are fully rested. Let my people show you to your chambers." Two fingers snapped, and a pair of chambermaids appeared to lead the guests away. "I have put the entire east wing at your disposal," the hyena said magnanimously. "It is most lavishly furnished." And as far away from me as possible.

The dogs all but barked their approval, and were led away to bathe and rest. Tammerly stood, tall and smiling, a noble and delightful host to the end, and watched them go. But no sooner had the door to the wing shut then he whirled about. The Pemberton's footman was making for the servant's door, and Tammerly raised his voice.

"I say -- Kigane, is it?"

The stallion paused, and turned to look at the hyena with a curious expression. It was a little lacking in deference for Tammerly's taste. Well, he'd work that out of him. "Yes, sir?"

The hyena pointed at the drinks cabinet. "Care for a nightcap, Kigane? It's tiring work, standing around all day."

The horse seemed genuinely surprised that he would offer. "That's most generous, sir. I'd love one."

"Port, brandy, cognac...?"

"Brandy, if you don't mind, sir."

Tammerly sauntered to the side table, his back to the stallion. He continued speaking as he poured them each half a glass of the spirit. "Where are you from, Kigane?"

"Dunlewwie, sir."

"Ah, Dunlewwie. I have harbour interests there." A practised paw added a few drops of Dr Kilmore's tonic to the stallion's glass. Bless that medical rascal and his laissez-faire approach to medication. "Lovely in the summer."

"Very lovely, sir," the horse agreed, taking his glass when the hyena turned and proffered it to him. Tammerly raised his glass with a smile, and so did the stallion.

"To home towns!" the hyena said cheerfully. "May they remain as glorious in truth as in our memories." He raised his glass to his mouth, but the stallion beat him there: a sharp motion of the wrist, and the glass had been emptied. Never challenge the lower classes to a drinking competition, he thought wryly_._ But not to be outdone, the hyena mimicked the motion, and smacked his lips in satisfaction as the brandy burned its way down his throat. "Marvellous." He took the stallion's empty glass and gestured to the servant's door. "Rest well."

"Thank you, sir. You too."

"And close the door on your way out, Kigane."

"Of course, sir."

---

Tammerly gave it about an hour. He lay in bed, nude, idly reading a novel, and occasionally reaching down to fondle himself. He didn't think too much about the stallion. He preferred deciding what to do in the heat of the moment. It felt more...natural.

Shortly after ten, he slipped out of the bed and into a bathrobe; he didn't care to struggle with buttons and belts and such when he got there. Taking up a candle, he pushed his door open and made his way back to the foyer. His paws made no sound on the thick carpeting as he walked down the stairs and turned into the servant's quarters, heading all the way down that much narrower passage. Each door along his route was closed: the thick oak -- especially added when he purchased the property -- would ensure no sound short of the very apocalypse would reach the servants slumbering within.

The final few rooms at the end of the hall were reserved for servants of guests. Only one was shut tonight, and the hyena slowly turned the handle and pressed the door open, his heart thumping faster. He knew what to expect, but he still got a thrill each time. As the thick wood swung wide, a sonorous wave met him: snoring. Very loud snoring. He held his wavering candle out, illuminating the edge of a bed and the mass that lay insensate upon it. Excellent.

He placed the candle down on a table, and walked to the edge of the bed, looking down at the stallion. It seemed the big male preferred to sleep naked: there was not a scrap of clothing on him. The hyena's roving eyes ran across the horse's body, his own canine maleness hardening quickly and protruding from the front of his robe as he beheld the stallion's muscular form.

The equine lay on his back, one arm lying above his head, the other resting atop his chest. Tammerly reached for that first, moving it aside to see the stallion's entire front. Magnificent. Two mounds of muscle, dotted with pink nipples, curved down towards a heavyset belly and thick thighs. Between his legs, creased folds of skin rested on top of fat, pale balls. He was hairy -- Tammerly had not expected that. He made his own servants shave. It was enough that he should see them so often, without having to smell the musk that hair trapped against them. Yet, on this horse, he did not mind it so. It seemed fitting. Like he was a brutish creature of the jungles. All instinct, and hunger, and...lust. Tammerly lowered a paw to fondle the horse's sheath, taking a quick breath. It felt soft, but huge. Truly, the only worthwhile attribute of their species.

He shucked off his robe and slid into bed alongside the horse. The powerful snoring had not ceased; Dr Kilmore's tonic never failed. The hyena had all night to play with this stout stallion if he so wished. But as he lay next to the larger male, a fancy took him. He could smell the horse; the equine hadn't bathed after his day in the sun, and "fragrant" was a mild description. The hyena sniffed purposefully all around his body, eventually pushing his nose into the stallion's armpit. A deeper sniff here. Dirt, and stale sweat, and horse. So...feral. The hyena sniffed again. That was it: it smelt animalistic. Uncultured. Savagely sexual. Yessss. Another sniff, and he ran a paw along the horse's chest. A brutish vehicle of lust, a vessel for unfettered rut...and he had made him into his plaything.

The hyena took his cock in his paw as he breathed in the horse's scent, stroking the long, red length with grunts of enjoyment. Each reeking breath was a reminder of his power and control, and he gloried in it. The stallion could do nothing. Tammerly owned him -- for tonight. His paw moved faster, the rough pads stimulating his engorged flesh, and his mouth tightening into a visceral snarl. He could feel his balls rising already, but that was fine. He had all night. Best to get the first one out of the way.

With a half-snarl, half-laugh, he gripped his cock hard as he stroked, pushing himself over the edge. A dizzying rush of hormones and blood to his head made it spin, and then the pleasure began; waves of it, billowing out of his crotch and flowing through his body. His mouth went slack and his tongue dropped out, hips thrusting his hard cock pointlessly into the air, its tip spurting hyena warmth out across the stallion's body as Tammerly whined and gasped for air.

When the spikes of pleasure had faded, he sighed. He felt very relaxed now, snuggled in next to the big, warm horse, his most immediate desire sated. He lifted his head to see the mess he'd made. Most of his semen was splashed across the stallion's belly and legs; the horse's sheath looked dotted with white spots. The hyena stared at it, then reached out a paw to fondle the hidden length as his nose sniffed at the seed cooling atop his helpless target. The stallion now smelled primarily of him. That pleased the hyena. Simply the first mark he'd leave on the servant tonight. When the stallion woke in the morning, he'd know what had been done to him. They always did, he was sure. The rare direct look the next morning, the puzzled sniffing at themselves. But what could they do? They'd never fully erase that mark, either: the secret mark that said that Tammerly had dominated them.

The horse's cock gradually began to lengthen under his paw's ministrations. It had been some time since Tammerly had seen a horse, and in truth, he was a little taken aback by the beast that slid out along the male's belly. He did not know if this was large or small as far as horses went, but it was objectively massive. Like a one-eyed worm, the pink flesh squirmed across its owner's chest, hardening as it lengthened. Tammerly watched it grow, bewitched. It was getting coated with his semen as it pressed through the rivers of it that had gathered in the valleys between stallion muscle, and he took a little more of his fluid between his fingers and rubbed it against the sheath. Massaging it into the skin and hair. That's where it mattered. The next time the stallion touched himself, it would be Tammerly he smelled on his hand.

The equine cockhead was entirely unlike his own, and his eyes kept returning to it in fascination. It was bulbous and soft; when he pressed his finger against it, it felt like pudding. And, remarkably, the horse was leaking. Whether his somnolent body knew what it desired all by itself, or whether he was having a dream of erotic intent, the hyena didn't know. He watched the silver drops ooze -- glistening in the uneven candlelight -- from the head, and only realised he'd reached out for it when he tasted it on his lips. It was sweet; nothing like his. Herbivores always tasted different, but he so rarely got to taste this part of them.

The hyena adjusted his position -- his head pressing down against the stallion's chest, the tip of his muzzle placed just at the large cock's head -- and licked up each drop as it came forth. The servant feeding him, he liked to imagine it. When the drops seemed to slow, he moved a little closer and suckled on the head itself. It tasted, if he was honest, rather marvellous. He so enjoyed the feeling of a passive male in his mouth. A little closer yet, and he could fit the entire thing into his maw. His tongue lapped away a brief touch of stale urine, and then all that remained was stallion. Maleness. The taste of a penis that he controlled. His eyes shut, content to suckle on the horse for a while...

Had the stallion stopped snoring?

The vague thought occurred just as the force of five fingers pressed against the back of his head. His muscles tensed with sudden fear, and his jaw would have clamped shut had a rough hand not grabbed at his lower jaw, holding it open with fearsome strength.

"If you bite, I will kill you," the footman's voice said levelly. "If I feel a tooth on my penis, I will kill you. If you scream, I will kill you." The hyena's breath ran raggedly through his open mouth, his tongue dry and his heart thumping. The horse was managing to keep a hyena's jaw open; no further proof of his ability to hurt Tammerly was needed. The panicking male shifted, trying to get his legs under him for leverage, but the hand on his jaw tightened further.

"And don't fucking move." Tammerly coughed and lay still; the form grip on his head didn't even let him nod his acquiescence. The horse had stopped his jaw from closing, but he'd also not pulled his head back; the stallion's cockhead still lay heavy on his tongue. As he lay, entrapped, Tammerly's mind raced, seeking answers and solutions. Had he misjudged the dosage of the tonic? He was unfamiliar with the lower classes and their bulky bodies. How to escape this immediate conundrum? He'd have to pay the horse off for now. Did he have enough money in the house? Perhaps jewellery. How to ensure his silence? He'd have to make sure nobody believed him if he ever spoke up. Blackmail. He'd frame him; accuse him of rape, ensure he'd be hanged. One of the chambermaids. Yes. An upcoming lord, seeking vengeance for his poor servants. Brutish horses! An impassioned speech in the House; he'd tried to pay Tammerly off! Yes. Venal horses and their base appetites...

He tried to speak, to offer the horse his pick of the riches of the house, but a finger curled into his mouth and pinned his tongue to the floor of his jaw.

"Shut up," the horse snarled, breaking the silence. "I knew you were a cocksucker, you aristocratic shithead. But I didn't know you're a cocksucker." The hand holding the back of Tammerly's head jerked forward, making the hyena tense up again -- and making half an inch of horse prick slide deeper. "Bet you don't share this with your fancy fucking friends, huh? Sandwiches and fuckin' tea for lunch? Don't waste my fuckin' time. Horse cock and stallion cum are what you'd prefer." The hand on the back of his head began to press forward relentlessly. "And I happen to have both. How about an evening snack, sir? Let's see you put that strong muzzle to work, Mr Fucking Tammerly." The disdain -- and the crudity -- in the way the stallion said his name made Tammerly furious, but fury would have to wait for opportunity. The horse's semi-flaccid member was hardening faster now that he was awake, and even without the hand pressing him forward, the flesh would have started extending deeper into him. Two inches...three. This was more than the hyena preferred to enjoy at his leisure, and a bout of violent coughing when the cockhead pressed against the back of his throat demonstrated his inexperience.

But the footman only chuckled, and pushed harder. The flare slipped past the hyena's constricting throat, the shaft now hard enough to push through, and Tammerly found his air pipe abruptly closed off; he opened his nostrils as wide as he could, dragging air through them with loud, desperate snorts. An urge to vomit grew, but all it did was make his throat grow tighter -- which seemed to pleasure the stallion greatly. He had begun to make grunting noises as more and more of his obscenely large cock extruded into the hyena's maw and throat. Tammerly's mouth -- still held open by the brute's hand -- was being stretched wider and wider as the full width of the shaft became apparent. Every few seconds, Tammerly would choke, his body tightening around the invader, and a little spit -- or was it stallion pre-cum by now? -- would ooze out of the corner of his mouth. The side of his face was pressed against the stallion's body, and his own cold cum was congealing against his face. And in his belly, a righteous fire burned.

This disgusting stallion would pay the ultimate price for this abuse.

When the stallion began thrusting, Tammerly hoped that it meant he was close. He'd been giving rough, filthy snorts for a few minutes. But there was no indication the horse was any closer than before. His cockhead had grown along with the rest of his monstrous cock, and as he thrust in and out of the hyena's throat, it scraped painfully along Tammerly's inner flesh. It might have been ringed with barbs, by the pain it caused. The hyena tried to swallow, to soothe the burn; it only made the horse's groans louder. He tried not to; he would not do anything to increase the pleasure felt by this rotter. But perhaps...to make the humiliation end sooner...

Tammerly began swallowing deliberately. Every time he did, the horse groaned and twisted about with pleasure. His feral noises seemed to be getting louder, but Tammerly only had one ear free, and couldn't be sure. What he was sure about was that the footman was thrusting faster. The scraping pain grew worse, and the acid strokes blurred together; his throat was filled with liquid metal, and in the middle of it pulsed a bar of solid, white-hot iron. Tears ran down the hyena's face, but he persisted, pleasuring the horny stallion as best he could. The sooner this degradation was finished, the sooner he could get his revenge.

"Uuuuhn...hrrrrm...ghmmm..." Every noise the horse made was base. He truly was no better than an animal. So what does that make you, for pleasuring him? The distasteful thought was pushed aside. This wasn't his choice! He was better than this. He'd made himself better. But as he swallowed against invasive, blood-hot flesh, and his throat massaged the mass of stallion prick inside him, it was difficult to remember that. He simply needed this to end, though. He just needed the horse to ejaculate.

The stallion's grunts grew louder, and his pace picked up dramatically. At last. Tammerly closed his eyes, wishing the small nightmare over. Only then, through the numb agony of his throat, did he feel something new. An even bigger something than the cock already there.

Belatedly, he remembered that horses flared.

Both of the stallion's hands clamped down now onto his head, pressing him into the cockshaft that sprouted from the footman's crotch, and Tammerly's tearful eyes watched in horror as the horse's balls disappeared from view, even as the flesh of his throat was stretched wider than ever before. He could feel part of his throat touching the belly of the stallion as the colossal flare within grew and grew, distending him like some pregnant creature, like a child's fairground balloon. It was obscene. Moments later, the cock pulsed -- and then he was drowning.

Tammerly had held panic at bay so far, focusing on what he'd do when he escaped, but that was wiped away as a flood of horse cum was pumped into him, directly down his throat. He couldn't breathe at all anymore; he dragged one final breath in, and when he expelled it, it simply filled his sinus with hot, wet, horrible horse seed. He could feel the liquid flowing down into him, warming him, and his stomach convulsed, pushing it back up. Cum squirted out around the cock and filled whatever gaps in his mouth weren't already full of the stallion's male flesh, and he tried to cough, and pull back, and failed. The hands on his head gripped like vises, and the hyena had no choice but to take it.

He was suffocating. He was inundated with the equine's sexual expression. He was going to die.

A thousand years passed. Tammerly was flailing at the stallion with both paws, claws out. He could feel the skin tearing, but the stallion didn't let go. The hyena tried to push back, away from the suffocating cockflesh, but his legs were shaking, and weak. His vision was blurred by tears and lack of air, and his mind was gradually becoming a single, horrified scream...

And then the pressure on his head vanished, and his paws pressing desperately against the stallion and the bed found purchase, and he fell backwards, to the floor of the room, choking and wheezing for air as he coughed up globs of gooey grey stallion semen onto the carpet. He was in shock. He couldn't move. His muscles were shivering, and his brain wasn't responding. What...what...

A hoof thumped onto the floor, nearly on top of one of his hands, and he stared at it in terror. A drop of red landed on his paw, and he looked up, uncomprehending. In the shivering candlelight, he could see a crosshatch pattern across the stallion's chest: a multitude of scratches. Blood seeped from the deepest ones and dripped down, and above that, a stallion's face. Curious and calculating, without a scrap of pain. His tremendous cock hung between his legs, and Tammerly goggled at the size of it. How could that have been inside him? The flare alone...it should have burst his throat like a pigskin. He shivered again in fear. This had gone very, very wrong. He had to get out of here.

The hoof lifted, but came back down on his paw. Not at full force, but hard enough to make the hyena wince and get the message. Then the stallion spoke.

"You hurt me." One finger ran across the claw-marks, and the stallion hissed in pain. But he licked the blood from his finger, and smiled. "But I'll live. Unlike you, if you say anything." Tammerly shivered, and the stallion cocked his head. "I have a feeling you've got some ideas in that fucking thick hyena skull already. Well. In case you had any ideas, sir, to run off to your posh friends and make up some stories...let me tell you what happened." He grinned, and the hyena felt a cold fear at the conviction in the expression. It reminded him far too much of himself.

The stallion continued. "Lord and Lady Pemberton saw it all. You restrained me, and drugged me, and proceeded to do most degrading and lascivious things to me. They begged you to stop. I begged your good name, and sweet mother Mary, and all the sugared saints...but you were as a hyena possessed. Surely, the sins of your ancestors manifested in you and filled you with vile appetites that cannot possibly befit a lord of the realm." His face transformed, and suddenly he looked as innocent as a lamb. A tear ran down one cheek. "Sirs," he said, and he sounded at once childlike and desperate. "I pray, do not harm Mr Tammerly. He is of exotic stock, and his many sins are simply of his rough blood! He is not of sound mind, but I do not believe him beyond redemption. Lock him up, certainly -- but do not hang him, I beg of you! Let him live a long life, to fully repent -- in a black, windowless cell."

The hyena looked up in confusion. What was he saying? The Pembertons hadn't seen anything! This made no sense. "You lie!" was all he could think to retort with, however.

"As do you, sir," the tall equine said. "The difference is, the Pembertons know of my proclivities. They do not care." His smirk was a shark's. "Lady Pemberton has remarkable appetites for such a petite lady. And they will not fail to believe me -- especially if I promise them a healthy cut of your future ventures, at no cost. After all -- what choice do you have? They shall most surely stand beside me as I confess your sins before a judge."

"Fuck you!" The common words were the only ones the hyena could find. This couldn't be happening. The stallion was lying. He had to be. The Pembertons were...were nothing. He would die before he gave them a cut of anything!

But...if any of this were true...

"You had your chance to do that, too, sir," the horse sneered, _"_but such is life. Sometimes you fuck the horse, and sometimes the horse fucks you." The male lifted his hoof off the hyena's paw, and settled back into bed, sighing deeply. He did not give the hyena so much as a glance.

"And close the door on your way out, Tammerly," the stallion said.