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As an indentured servant, Sheila knew her place was below the equines. When one grows up in an entire country set on this fact they either adapt to it, find a way out, or break down. The lucky escape, the weak break down and fill the brothels and whorehouses lining redlight districts where prostitution of non-equines is legal, and the strong adapt. Such was her lot in life, to have strength in submission to her betters. To gain confidence in humiliation. To take joy in service.

It helped that her master, Charles Kingsley, was rich and that she, as a white lion, was a rarity. None of that wealth directly helped her, it wasn’t as though she had a savings fund. But her unique fur gave her protection as a collector’s piece. A doll kept in a glass case not meant to be sullied by the hands of others. Given his age, and his preferred preferences, Charles never touched her intimately in the years under his service. Many saw this as a blessing, and Sheila did too, but she also saw it as a curse.

Maybe it was the conditioning of her country, or maybe something inside her was always broken, but Sheila wanted to be touched. To be used intimately, and treated not as some special doll for display but a rough toy for another’s pleasure. In her youth she’d spent rare private moments enjoying fantasies of her better’s using her how she was meant to be. Calling her a slave before the word became toxic to the lips. It was why she grew a habit of flirting with her master’s many sons, hoping that one of them would be brave enough to play with his father’s toys.

She was lucky to have two.

The first was Studley Kingsley, an Arabian stallion from Charles' second wife. Sociable, outgoing, and with a face seeming locked in a welcoming grin, the stallion had thousands of suitors chasing after his loose mane. But none could satisfy him for long, leaving behind a string of lovers and endless drama that he just loved to talk about during pillow talk with Sheila. He treated her less like an object and more as a confidant, one he could fuck whenever he desired. She appreciated his company, and his enthusiasm in bed. No one else dared to consider making her squirt with their tongue. “It’s for practice,” he’d say when she asked him why he did it, “For the mares and my future wife. They must be treated with respect after all.”

Collin Kingsley was the night to his half-brother’s day. Born out of wedlock from Charles’ third wife/second mistress, Collin had an intense focus on him. If Studley was a wildfire of passion, Collin was a smelter’s torch. The zebra never slouched, always kept himself prim and proper, and had a tongue of such silver his detractors were blindsided before they could attempt a duel of debate. In the bedroom he was callous, rough, yet loving. He would break Sheila down only to reforge her, over and over until real tears matted her furry cheeks. Servants and half-brothers alike feared him, which gave Sheila and Studley a rare commonality. They both wanted him.

And they both wanted her.

Sheila didn’t understand why Collins preferred her over his father’s other slaves. He seemed just as dismissive of her in the bedroom as he was in the open, but her hearing was keen enough hearing to know how he rarely if ever picked another. She was his first choice. It was why Studley pursued her more, to get his half-brother’s attention.

Even now, at a Christmas party with a crisp jingle in the air and warm cider drinks passed around, Studley took a chance upon her as soon as their gazes met within view of Collins. He wore a festive red business suit with a green tie, whereas she wore little more than a red lace sheer bra, a short skirt, matching mesh stockings, green shoes with little bells on the tips, and a pointed green hat fit for an elf. Her collar, of course, was thick and on display for everyone, as with all the other slaves.

“He’s been staring for minutes now,” Studley said in a low voice, grinning as he snapped the head of a gingerbread stallion between his teeth. “What do you suppose he’s thinking we’re saying?”

“It’s not my place to assume, sir,” Sheila said. In public she had to keep up honorifics. She preferred it that way. Studley demanded she drop them when in private, which she couldn’t refuse. “But I think he is eager to demand my time later.”

“Can you influence him to the guest house?” He asked, “Away from prying eyes?”

“It is where he prefers.”

“Then do so,” Studley commanded, “And do it in haste. I grow bored of this party and by the looks of my father he’s already too tired for it.”

Collins, who wore a more traditional black suit and bowtie, motioned her over not long after Studley left her be, taking a mug of warm cider from her tray as he spoke without looking at her. “What did he want with you?”

“Your brother–”

“Half-brother,” Collins corrected.

“My apologies, sir. Your half-brother wanted me to meet him at the guest house.”

“Did you not tell him we already had plans?” Collins lied without a beat.

Sheila feigned a frown, “I did not. My apologies, sir. It slipped my mind.”

“The mind of a slave is nothing but a grease trap. Come.” Collins took her tray aside and hooked a finger through her collar’s D-ring, leading her along without care of who saw, “We will correct this mistake.”

The family estate had enough land that Sheila could be walked around it naked and not a single outsider could bat an eye. She knew this because she’d experienced it several times, sometimes by the half-brothers, sometimes by their father, and sometimes by other slaves who had authority over her. The crunch of snow under her boots mingled with the jingle of her bells. She kept her hands behind her even as the breeze of winter’s breath pushed nipped at her. If needed she could stay outside for hours, pain be damned. The half-brothers preferred the warmth of the log cabin guest house instead.

It was also out of the way from prying eyes and had enough trees between it and the main estate to prevent onlookers from peeking into lit rooms. Studley was waiting for them in the bedroom of the abode, already naked and lounging on the bed like a lover ready to surprise his partner. Collins scoffed. “Impatient as ever, brother,” he sneered.

“Well you both took your sweet time,” Studley said, “Don’t tell me you both had a little fun without me.”

“Don’t speak,” Collins commanded Sheila. “Not unless I am speaking to you.”

“Yes, sir.” His command sent shivers down her spine. Delightful shivers, like little sparks of electricity one shouldn’t touch but would out of curiosity. Studley sighed and let his half-brother command the lioness, idly stroking his shaft as she slowly stripped down to nothing but her collar.

Like an inspector Collins pursed her mouth in his hand. He pressed his thumb against her lips, slipping past to apply pressure on her tongue. He spat inside when she opened her maw. She didn’t swallow until he commanded it, taking the moment to enjoy his saliva on her tongue.

“What hole do you want?” Collins asked his brother as he stripped out of his clothes. Both he and Studley spent enough time in the gym and dieting for their physical prowess to outmatch desk work, making them remarkably similar in all but their cocks. Studley had an extra inch, whereas Collins was thicker. Both had stretched Sheila out, but so did every stallion wanting her in their father’s manor.

“I want her ass.”

“No. That’s my hole.”

Studley rolled his eyes, “You can’t just ask what I’d want and then say no. She only has two holes.”

“Three. Her mouth.” Collins said matter-of-factly.

Studley laughed. “Right, like you’re not going to enjoy that.”

“You can have her ass after.”

“I don’t do sloppy seconds. Neither do you. Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Ever the petulant child,” Collins said with a huff. After tossing Sheila to the bed the two brothers played their little game. Studley, blunt as ever, chose rock. Collins, knowing his half-brother, chose paper. “Her ass is mine. As is her mouth, for making me play this stupid game.”

“Always possessive,” Studley sighed, taking a seat to watch his brother before joining in.

By her hair Collins lined Sheila’s face against the throbbing heat that was his rod. It weighed against her face, drenching her noise in the salty sweat of hours behind a custom tailored suit. He paused for a moment before deciding to flip her onto her back, having no desire to see her face and every interest in seeing his cock outline her throat.

He did not wait for her to be ready. Sheila had been trained to expect that. Her mouth hung wide as the thick black shaft lined up and pushed inside her. Deep breaths through her nose and experience calmed her throat the thick inch by inch inside her maw, filling her throat like a soda-can swallowed by mistake.

Collins slows down for his benefit, not hers. He shudders, enjoying the warm pressure of her throat around his cock. With a huff he pushes further, stopping at the medial ring before pulling out halfway and thrusting again. She’s taken his entire cock before, but he decides to savor the feeling before slamming his full rod into her hard enough that his balls smack her nose.

“Fucking slut,” Collins growls. Thick hands slapped her tits. “Fucking feline bitch. The only thing your mouth is useful for is pleasing me.”

“Always so rude,” Studley teasing, patting Sheila’s cunt hard enough to hear the moist folds, “I’d be concerned if I didn’t know she was into it. You really care about her more than you let on.”

“Shut up,” Collins growled, his hand tight enough around her throat to use it like a fleshlight.

Studley chuckled. The heat of his rod warmed her cunt as he laid the shaft across it, slowly grinding to idly tease the lioness. “You know what I mean, Sheila. You know how he ignores or barely interacts with other slaves, like they don’t exist. Really, they make him uncomfortable. Except you. He’s always so passionate about you. A little birdie told me he’s already got lawyers lined up to fight for your ownership if father doesn’t leave you to him in the will.”

Her legs quivered at the feeling of his flat head against her lips. “Of course, as his brother, I can’t help but tease him for it. After all, you’re not his slave. You’re our father’s slave. Our slave.”

He pulled back. She waited for Studley to penetrate her cunt but the pressure came lower. Collins cock kept her from screaming, but her nails still dug into the bed and her legs kicked out as that long rod, lubed up, didn’t so much as slip into her rim but spread it wide.

“Studley!” Collins shouted.

The half-brother laughed. “What can I say, brother? The ass was tempting. I can see why you wanted it.” Studley’s thrusts were fast and deep, ignoring Sheila’s reflexive struggles. From both sides she felt the heat of the brothers press against her, suffocating her. Collins pulled Studley in but there was no shouting. She heard a wet exchange between them, followed by the hard slap across the face.

“You brat,” He hissed, pulling out of her maw. Every gag and gasp for air she had wet met with the heavy bludgeoning of his rod before he left her to grab his brother. “You annoying little shit. I specifically told you not to take her ass.”

Studley didn’t fight his brother’s advances. He didn’t crumble against them either, welcoming the zebra’s rage with open arms. “Come now, brother, you’d have done the same.”

“I should punish you for this.”

“Oh? On what authority?” Studley jeered, “Though I wouldn’t mind a little attention from you. Maybe I’m just a little envious of your personal, well, your favorite slave.”

This wasn’t out of the ordinary. Studley and Collins always had a rivalry that turned into a hidden romance of hatefucking. Sheila was the sole arbiter of it, and its secret keeper.

Studley didn’t fight back as Collins thrust him to the bed. He egged him on with sly grins and subtle raising of his brow, and the not so subtle shaking of his ass. Collins sneered, spat at him, and tossed him a towel. “Clean your dick off.”

“What for?” Studley asked.

“Because I demand it.” Collins grabbed Sheila and forced her to the wall. From there he pulled out ropes and other assorted gear from hidden spaces they’d tucked toys away. Without fanfare he shoved a thick ballgag behind her teeth and strapped it tight. Her mouth wasn’t needed anymore.

With her arms bound above her, Collins turned her around with a heavy spank on her ass and led her back to the bed. Studley had returned to his lounging pose, having cleaned his dick off, and started to help Collins hoist her up when he realized what she was doing. They looped rope through an empty ceiling light hook they installed years ago. It was never meant for ceiling lights.

“Lay flat,” Collins ordered his brother once Sheila was suspended enough. He stretched his brother's arms to the two corners by way of hidden bed restraints, and suspended his legs via ropes. Studley’s cock plopped against Sheila’s crotch, beads of precum pooling over the flat head.

Collins silenced his brother with another gag, but not before rolling it in his own tongue to the stallion. An indirect kiss. From there he grabbed a flogger and encouraged Sheila to position herself properly over his brother’s cock. Striking harder to be clear he meant for her cunt, not her ass.

“Don’t act shy of it, slut,” He hissed, cracking the flogger across her ass. “I know how eager you are to ride horsecock. Father didn’t train you to be a puritan.”

A few more strikes of the flogger motivated her to sink down the rod. His hands finished the rest, pushing her down the shaft. Both her and Studley’s gagged cries echoed across the walls. She felt his seed surge from the sudden drop, filling her insides.

“I didn’t say stop!” Collins clapped her cheeks, “Bounce on his dick, slut.”

She noticed Studley’s eyes widened with the realization. This was a punishment. Nothing drove a man crazy like overstimulation, and the forced riding of his cock after orgasm, where every nerve was burning in the heat of her folds, was like an electrical furnace. Collins smiled for the first time, letting his sadism out like a faucet.

Of course, this being a punishment for Studley didn’t shield Sheila from blame. Collins liked to say he used her as a tool, but one doesn’t paint their tool’s backsides red with flogger strikes, nor turn around to squeeze, grope, or twist their breasts. Just like Studley, Collins enjoyed playing with his things. He just needed privacy to do it.

“Are we tired, Studley?” Collins asked, wiping a tear of exhaustion off his brother’s cheek. Sheila’s legs burned in the momentary pause, thankful Collins took the moment to torment his brother.

“Are we regretful?” He teased, holding his brother’s chin to force a nod. “I’m sure you are. But the thing about regrets and you is that they’re never the right regrets. You see, it’s always about getting caught with you. Consequences are your regret.”

He snapped the flogger down like lightning across Studley’s chest, then to Sheila’s tits in one slick motion. Their gagged yelps sent shivers down his spine. “The untouchable brat. No matter how many fuck-ups you make, dear old dad will bail you out.” Another smack to both of them. “And you can’t even thank him. I don’t like the old bastard either, but at least I know to kiss the ring. You bite the hand that feeds. Clearly you know nothing of respect, of authority. It’d be better off stripping you of your titles, and making you a slave. A bitch. My bitch.”

Taking is cock like a dripping market he smeared precum all over his brother’s reeling face. “Maybe once dad dies and you inevitably fuck up again I can make it happen. You need a bailout, and I’ll do it on the condition that you fall under my property. I’ll bury your name, shave that ridiculous mane,” he pulled it for emphasis, earning his brother’s whine, “And hide that face behind a mask so no one remembers you’re a person. I’ll break you down and build you back up.”

Enslavement of equines had been outlawed for over a century. It was not only considered a taboo, but a crime punishable with life behind bars. But Studley’s frightened gaze couldn’t hide what Sheila felt inside her. The stiffness and the pulse. Studley had, in private, passed off the idea of wearing a collar in bed. Collins, in journals she’d read in moments of freedom, highlighted fantasies of enslaving his brother. The two wanted this, society refused it. She was their only excuse to partake in the fantasy.

The zebra circled back to Sheila. She felt his thick cock press against her backside and leaned forward to better take it. “What a brazen slut,” he said, slapping her ass. “Do you think I would demean myself with this bitch’s sloppy seconds? No. You get to feel his enjoyment while I take what is mine. Just as the Romans did.”

She watched Studley’s eyes bulge. There was a grunt behind her, and a wet noise of something lubed pushing something tight. Studley threw his head back, his back arched, and the gag turned his cries to nothing as his brother’s thick cock penetrated his backside.

A single thrust into his ass surged another rope of seed from his cock into her. Collins did not stop at a single thrust. Whereas with Sheila he used her for pleasure, with Studley he tormented him. Burying deep and slow to get the feel before pistoning into him.

The bed creaked and shook, the ropes dug into her flesh and fur. They grunts, gagged or otherwise, mixed in the air along with the wet sounds of sex and dominance.

By the end Studley’s hole leaked. No where as much as Sheila’s when Collins pulled her off. He handed her a water bottle once she was free of her bindings, then moved on to releasing Studley.

“We’ll take a break,” he said, twisting open a bottle for himself. “Then we’ll start with round two.”

“Mind if I get to pitch?” Studley asked. Collins, lightly, tapped his brother’s cock. The stallion keeled over with a hissing wince. “Ok…I might need a minute.”

Sheila couldn’t help but laugh.