Clopper's Journey -- Chapter 2
#2 of Clopper's Journey
As usual, Mr. Brandt took his breakfast in the formal dining room, his servants bowing or curtsying gracefully as he passed.
The equine nodded imperiously to each of them in turn. He paid all of his many employees well and treated each with respect. In return, the house staff stayed silent on the topic of his lavish house parties and his peculiar hobbies.
He could tell some of the more conservative minded servants had mixed feelings on working for a man whose hobbies included transforming rowdy teenagers into perpetually horny ponies. But Mr. Brandt had been assured by his expert and well-funded security team that every member of his staff would keep his secrets regardless of their personal views.
Once in the dining room, the wealthy landowner could see that everything had been arranged to his preferences. Drink, breakfast, a light dessert, and yes, Carrot.
The armless mouse stood beside his chair at the end of the long dining table. The gelding kept his head bowed respectfully, knowing better than to look directly at his owner without first being addressed.
Mr. Brandt smiled at the mouse-pony. His property. And the longest serving pony currently on the ranch. It would be a sad day indeed when the time came to sell the animal.
"Carrot," the horse said, addressing the nude boy who had to be in his late twenties by now. Yes, the pony really was getting a bit too old for his taste. But he still looked young and that's what mattered most to the equine.
The mouse looked up at him. Eager. Fearful. Expectant.
"It's been... what, a month since you were last in the manor? How time flies. Here, let me take a look at you."
He could tell that the pony was nervous. Mr. Brandt liked that about Carrot. The boy never got used to his presence. Even after all these years, the horse still scared and excited the former stallion.
"And look how erect you are today. Quite a bold display you're putting on. You must be very excited to see your master. Is that the case, Carrot?"
Carrot nodded, his eyes wide and earnest. Normally the horse didn't tolerate non-animalistic behaviors from his ponies. But for some reason he had never been able to adequately explain to himself, the mouse had always been an exception. Maybe because of just how cute the little guy was. Like all ponies, the mouse's lack of arms made him look especially defenseless in a way that made his owner's mouth water. So much so that Mr. Brandt was tempted to bend the pony over the table and fuck him right there and then. Hard. He'd done it before, after all. All of his ponies eventually got fucked over this table, sooner or later.
...But, no. Or, at least not yet.
"Carrot, did you see we've procured a new stallion for you?"
The young man nodded. Speech was of course impossible. Permanently removing a pony's ability to speak was one of the first procedures performed on any new arrival. Plus, Carrot had a large wooden bit held firmly in his mouth by his leather head gear. Just as Mr. Brandt had requested.
"He's a very handsome lion. You must feel very lucky to have such a big, strong stallion to take care of your needs. He's not quite as large as Tight-end, but he's a good sight bigger than Lusty. I wonder, will your knees quiver in pleasure as he breeds you? Will your eyes roll up into your head like they often did when Tight-end forced his knot into you?"
Carrot blushed. The horse smiled. He liked that this pony was still capable of such embarrassment. And since the mouse hadn't been sold quite yet, Mr. Brandt wanted the mouse to feel more of that delightful, arousing shame. Much, much more.
The landowner took his seat at the table. Then he patted his thigh while gesturing for the boy to approach.
"Here, sit on master's lap. It's been so long since we've had one of our heart-to-hearts. Tell me, are the handlers treating you well?"
Thrilled to sit on his strong master's lap, the mouse rushed over and took his seat. But, unable to directly answer the question, the mouse looked away shyly and gently chewed on his wooden bit. Eventually he nodded. Carrot knew his master didn't like complainers. After living on the ranch for many years, Carrot knew this very well.
Though, Mr. Brandt already knew exactly what Carrot wanted to complain about. After all, it was he who had instructed the pony's handlers to "accidentally" give the mouse a double dose of medication this morning. The injection that made even ball-less geldings like Carrot experience intense sexual need combined with a severe case of blue-balls.
The equine placed his hand on the pony's inner thigh and rubbed, knowing that the mouse was trapped in the midst of a sexual heat the likes of which he himself would never understand. After all, he'd never sampled the drug himself. Why would he? But it amused him to play dumb and have the boy believe that his sorry, frustrated state had been some sort of bureaucratic mix up. A miscommunication between the handlers. An accident that left his tender member practically humming with unfulfilled need, but still an accident.
But there were very few accidents on Sunset Ranch. In fact, Mr. Brandt had scheduled the mouse's 'accidental' double dose three days ago, at the same time he'd requested that Carrot be brought to him this morning. Of course the mouse had no way of knowing just how micro-managed his life was by the man he only occasionally interacted with.
The timing had worked out perfectly. The horse was in the mood to indulge in a nice long edging session and Carrot was the perfect participant. Lovely, naive, innocent Carrot.
"You don't mind if I play with your cock, do you Carrot? I'm afraid I find it impossible to help myself, when I have a pony as lovely as you sitting in my lap."
The pony smiled up at him, clearly enthusiastic about the idea. Which was to say, he smiled the best he could around the bit shoved into his mouth. Poor, stupid Carrot, the equine mused. And then he got to work.
With one hand he brought the fork to his mouth to enjoy his breakfast. With his other, he expertly played with his property's long skinny erection. Mr. Brandt enjoyed the silky smooth texture of the amorous youth's cock as he let his fingers play up and down the pole. It took only moments for the boy to begin squirming and huffing in his lap. Oh yes, he was desperate for it all right. Especially considering how many days it had been since he'd been fucked by his stallion.
Mr. Brandt grew hard under the naked pony, his erection starting to poke out from his expensive untied robes. The horny boy was too lost in the growing haze of his own need to immediately notice but when he eventually did, the naked mouse used his tail to expertly please his master's large equine cock.
This went on for some time, the horse making sure not to bring the gelding to climax. Orgasms, which would be outright unobtainable for other geldings, were merely "extremely difficult" for Sunset Ranch geldings. The regular drug doses and injections directly into the boys' prostates saw to that.
But the horse didn't want Carrot to 'cum'. Not when observing the mouse's indescribable sexual frustration was bringing him such pleasure. As he worked the pony's twitching stalk, Mr. Brandt kept a close eye on the clock. Focused on his objective, the horse barely noticed the pony frantically working his tail up and down his black shaft. Exerting a degree of mental discipline, the estate owner held himself back and avoided giving into the youth's dexterous tail.
It was almost time. And so...
"How about it, Carrot? Have you been an extra good boy for me this year? Do you think you've earned the right to make one of your little pony messes?"
Carrot would have moaned and begged, had he been capable of making noise. He nodded frantically up at his master, his mouth open and salivating around the bit, his eyes shining with need.
"Hmmm.... well, okay then. Just let Master Brandt take care of that nasty erection for you."
For a brief, glorious moment Carrot was the happiest boy in the world. The equine smiled right back down at him. Kind. Caring. Attentive. His hand moved ever so slightly faster and the pony braced himself for the orgasm he'd been waiting years for. He'd worked so hard and so long for this day. The boy's heart soared with joy as his body prepared itself for the most powerful climax of his life.
All his self-sacrifice and effort would finally be rewarded. And by Mr. Brandt's own hand no less! The horse's palm and fingers felt so good as they travelled up and down the gelding's shaft. Carrot closed his eyes and held his breath, his body preparing itself for the long-sought release it had craved for so long.
And that's when the servant barged in. Right at 7:52 AM on the dot.
"Mr. Brandt? I'm so sorry to interrupt but there's an emergency phone call for you, in your study."
The horse sighed dramatically, allowed his hand to slowly come to a stop on the youth's aching, desperate erection, and looked down at Carrot with his most sincere expression of regret.
"I am sorry, my cutie. It looks like your little squirt will need to wait. You'll have to forgive me."
And just like that, Carrot's expression fell into one of utter despair. Mr. Brandt's erection throbbed against the boy as tears of frustration welled up in the pony's eyes. The lad shook his head 'no', pleading with the horse. The gelding's look of soul-crushing disappointment was so erotically charged that the horse could have cum right then and there, had he wished. But that would spoil the facade of this pretense he'd put together and so he held himself back.
"Rodimere, could I trouble you to bring Carrot back to his stall? Let's put on some music for him too. Something upbeat. You'd like that, wouldn't you boy?"
Carrot didn't want music. He wanted to shoot! He wanted to unload his sore, throbbing prostate! He wanted to cum all over Mr. Brandt's warm, soft hand! He'd waited patiently for long and he'd been so close! It wasn't fair!
"Of course, sir," the white-furred fennec replied. "Carrot? Come along now."
And here it was. The true test of loyalty. Would the mouse continue his lovely but pointless begging or would he leave when bidden, tail tucked meekly between his legs? Even if that meant abandoning his much-sought climax that had been so close the pony's toes must have been curling in anticipation within his rubber boots.
To his delight, after an extended moment of agonized indecision the mouse slid off his lap and onto the ground, his hoofed boots making a soft thud noise as he landed. Carrot's erection waved in the air, exceedingly rigid as it sought out just a few more seconds of touch. Impatiently, the servant put an arm around the mouse's shoulders and escorted the silently crying boy away.
Carrot did glance back as he left the room but the door was already closed behind him. So he didn't see that Mr. Brandt had already returned his focus back to his breakfast, the fictitious "emergency call" forgotten.
Behind him, the ever prim Reginald sighed.
"Sir, was that little drama truly necessary?" his most trusted servant asked.
None of Mr. Brandt's other servants would ever dare ask such a question. But the Scottish Terrier had been around since the equine was a newborn and the servant knew his master's boundaries better than anyone.
"Oh, come now," the master of the estate defended himself, not bothering to look away from his plate as he addressed the much older man. "What's the point in raising ponies if you can't have some fun once in a while? Besides, Carrot enjoys the attention."
"Yes, I saw him enjoying it, sir. Right up until you left him needy. Again. What has it been? Two years? Three? Since you permitted the young boy release."
Mr. Brandt was getting annoyed with this line of interrogation.
"As I've explained, it's an experiment. Or, perhaps a side-hobby. A bit of harmless fun, stringing Carrot along. Getting his hopes up and leaving him hanging, year after year. What does it matter? He seems happy enough and no harm was done. Besides, he had his time in the sun! Three years as a stallion. He fucked and came more in those three years than most free males do in a lifetime. If he's a touch frustrated now, that's just how karma works. The scales being balanced, as it were."
"A 'touch' frustrated, sir? I'm not sure you're aware of just how potent the drugs--"
"Enough!", the horse cut-in, becoming angry. "Carrot is my property and I treat him well. I take great pains to make sure he is fed, groomed, exercised, mentally stimulated, and played with. If I want to keep him blue-balled and eager to please, that's my business and no one else's."
Reginald sighed deeply again and said, "...Yes, as you say, master. Shall I prepare your morning bath, sir?"
"Yes, I think you'd best do that," the man replied, wanting the servant to leave him in peace before he lost his temper and said something they'd both regret.
The well-bred master of the estate tried to concentrate on his breakfast but instead found himself stewing over his most trusted aide's chiding. Was it possible that he was being too hard on the pony? Mr. Brandt didn't think so. Carrot had been with him nearly thirteen years by this point and after that many years of deciding the mouse's schedule, activities, and training, the equine thought he knew the boy's limits well by now.
Not that he could outright ask the pony how he was holding up or what his opinion of his circumstances were. Not only was it physically impossible, because like all ponies Carrot had been rendered permanently mute by their second day on the ranch, but also because asking a pony about how it felt about life on the ranch was like asking a feral bird about how it felt about life in the jungle. Not only was it a silly proposition, Mr. Brandt just wasn't interested in the mouse's naive, uneducated view on the subject.
No, he decided, Carrot didn't need his owner going any "easier" on him in some misguided attempt at helping the boy. The pony had at least a year left of top-tier service before he needed to be sold to another owner or a different ranch to make room in the stable for a young, fresh pony. What the boy really needed was something to take his mind off the perpetual need throbbing between his legs. A pleasant distraction.
That's the ticket, Mr. Brandt decided. Picking up his phone the man dialed Tom, his chief handler.
"Good morning, Mr. Brandt," the bull said, in his usual manner of speaking which was deep, slow, and confident. The horse always enjoyed listening to the handler speak. "What can I do for you?"
"I think Carrot has had a little too much time to dwell on that little stretch of him swinging between his thighs. Could you put him on heavy-duty work detail for the next week or so? I think providing him a distraction and letting him feel productive would do him a world of good. Plus it would help him burn off some of his excess sexual energy."
The bull grunted into the phone, considering the request.
"Aye, we can do that. I'll have the pony sweating for the rest of the week. By the time we put him away in his stall at night, he'll be too tired to think about much of anything. Including his cock. But what about his evening entertainment responsibilities? I saw on the sign-up sheet that a number of the staff planned on using the boy this week."
"Oh shoot," the equine mumbled. He'd forgotten about the waiting list for Carrot. As one of the more popular ponies, servants and handlers had to add their name to the mouse's 'entertainment' waiting list weeks in advance before they were provided an exclusive time block with which to enjoy one or both of the cute boy's warm holes.
Mr. Brandt drummed his fingers on the dining room table's linen as he considered the problem. As always, Tom waited patiently to hear his employer's decision.
"Let's do both. Heavy-duty work assignment and his evening appointments. Carrot can handle it. I have faith in him. Plus, you may be able to redirect some of the mouse's traffic to Tight-end. That mare needs to understand that her pussy in now her primary sex organ."
"Yes, sir," the bull agreed. He didn't know why the master of the estate was going this hard on Carrot and he didn't care enough to ask. Something had crawled up the horse's bum and now the mouse's life would be hell for the next week because of it, and that was that. "He'll be plum-tuckered out by the time he gets through each day, but I reckon the boy can handle it for a week. Anything else, sir?"
"How is the new stallion doing? Clopper."
The bull paused a moment to consider his answer. When it came to new ponies on the ranch, he had to be careful on how he phrased things to his employer. Having worked for the man for well over a decade, Tom knew how sensitive the man could be to indelicately phrased status reports. Especially for recently procured 'ponies'.
"He's coping pretty well, considering this is his first full day. We have the vet looking at him now, giving him a full work-over. He'll be muted and chipped before the afternoon is out. And this evening we'll give him his first series of injections. He'll be in a bit of pain and a lot of shock, but I can tell he's the strong, durable type. So he should bounce back quickly."
The horse felt himself growing hard again under his robes thinking about the handsome lion strapped down to the doctor's table, getting poked, prodded, and injected. The owner knew this must be a scary time for the young boy but that's what the drugs were for. They'd help keep the new stallion's mood elevated, energetic, and oh-so-very horny. Just like a virile stallion should be.
"And his follow-up procedure?"
The landowner hated seeing ponies who still had their arms. It looked so ugly and unnatural. True ponies couldn't pick things up, open doors, or push you away with their hands. True ponies, like Carrot, Tight-end, Lusty, and Bandit, had beautifully smooth shoulders that invited free people to stroke and pet them. True ponies didn't have bulky arms which disrupted the smooth shape of their silhouette in the sunlight. True ponies couldn't stop you if you wanted to explore their belly button, rub their stomach, or tug their maleness. True ponies stood tall and proud as they were led around by their bit and harness.
"Already scheduled for a couple weeks from now. Allowing time for rest and recuperation, Clopper should be fully processed and integrated into ranch life by this time next month. I suspect you'll be wanting to host one of your debut parties around that time, sir?"
Mr. Brandt felt himself getting genuinely excited for the first time in months. Oh yes, and such a party it would be. Fine company, regal attire, delicious food, copious alcohol, and throughout it all, Clopper would be there as his star attraction and would serve as the night's main event.
"You know me so well, Tom. Yes, that's right. And I want Clopper fully prepared and ready for it, understand me? We wouldn't want a repeat of Tight-end's debut party."
"No, sir. No one wants that," the bull confirmed.
Even the stoic handler winced at the memory. What an awful mess that stupid doberman-pony had made of things. That night would live on in the entire staff's collective memory in infamy. Mr. Brandt had gotten so angry, all of the estate staff's collective lives became near-unbearable during the weeks that followed. And as chief handler, the horse had held him personally responsible for the public embarrassment.
There had even been a dark day or two where Tom seriously wondered if he might end up as Tight-end's replacement. The gruff, hard-to-ruffle bull had actually vomited in his toilet out of fear of what the equine would do to him. That fucking fuck-up Tight-end. But that had been years ago and the doberman was a bit of a special case.
"While we're on the topic of Tight-end," the bull continued, eager to move to move the conversation forward, "I should say that we've seen a bit of back-sliding in terms of his attitude, since his gelding. We predicted this, giving his past as the popular quarterback on his highschool's football team. Must be a bit of a mind-fuck and a hard pill to swallow, going from having big low hangers to having just a smooth patch of skin down there."
"Nothing you can't handle, I trust?" the horse asked, beginning to grow bored of the conversation.
"Aye, nothing we can't handle. But he has tried to kick a couple of the handlers and he tried to take a bite of me this morning. I'm not sure that the usual punishment routines will work on him this time, given the circumstances. This goes beyond his usual stubbornness. I'd like permission to get a bit rough with him, if we need to."
"Yes, yes. Whatever you need. Just don't bother me with the details. I'm tired of hearing about Tight-end's antics. Just get him straightened out."
"Yes, sir. Understood, sir. We'll get Tight-end back on the straight-and-narrow. Even if that means proving to him that there are things far worse than losing a couple ounces of weight from between your legs."
"You do that. Until we next speak, then."
Mr. Brandt set the phone down on the table, already feeling better. Carrot would have a productive, busy week. Tight-end would get his attitude adjusted. And Clopper was already at the vet, beginning his transformation into the unique sexual animal that would serve as the ranch's sole breeding stallion for the next three years.
Which left only one problem to deal with. The equine looked down at his still-tenting crotch.
However, this was the fun sort of problem to have. Especially when you were a wealthy landowner who owned your own stable of well-trained ponies.
Raising his hand, Mr. Brandt snapped his finger in the air.
From some location nearby yet unseen, another servant stepped in and inquired, "Yes, master? How may I serve you?"
The equine smiled at the young deer and said, "I want Lusty given four enemas and then brought to my room. And bring my edging kit as well. As I recall, the pony is on punishment detail so this seems like a fine time to spend a few hours carefully polishing his shaft."
"Yes, sir. A grand idea, sir. Right away, sir"
Mr. Brandt smiled to himself as the servant disappeared around the corner. By the time this day was done, he would be well satisfied and the fox would be as horny and pent up as he'd ever been. An excellent reminder on the importance of performing well in the ranch's weekly pony races. And another perfect end to another perfect day.