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So, this was it.

I watched as Master's car sped off and vanished around the corner, then turned my attention to the house he had dropped me off in front of.

It looked like a fairly normal house - you know, the kind of house you'd find anywhere in suburbs like this. Two stories, nice yellow paint on the walls, a covered porch in the front next to a paved driveway that led up to the two-car garage. Well-cut lawn with two nicely groomed bushes. It was so normal I nearly had to scream.

Nothing, absolutely nothing hinted at the fact that it was here where I should receive my punishment.

I sighed, and tried to calm my shaking hands, the right still holding the sealed envelope Master had told me to give to my punisher.

It was my own fault that I was here, really, and I repeated the fact to myself a couple of times, told myself that I was here because I wanted this. That I wanted this because the alternative would have been worse, no matter what was going to happen to me in that house, that nice, peaceful and lovely looking house.

Master had asked me, once again, yesterday evening if I still wanted my punishment, and had nodded gravely at the packed bags and suitcases that had been standing in the hallway near the front door since... since my... transgression, that's how Master had called it.

I had betrayed him, pure and simple, had acted like the slut that I am... with someone else than him. Not once, not twice, but three times. And each time, he had known. Had known that I had fallen prey to my desires, had raised my tail for some stranger, a sexy cat, a muscular rottweiler.. And lastly, that fox.

After the first time, there had been words. After the second time, Master had tied me up and beaten me senseless. But now... he had just packed my stuff, wordless, silent, remorseless. It had been the scariest thing I ever had experienced, and I had cried, wailed, even, begged him to reconsider, told him that I would accept anything, do anything, submit to the worst imaginable punishment he could come up with, if only he wouldn't kick me out.

And, much to my surprise and astonishment, he had listened. Had told me he'd need to sleep over this, and that he would give me an answer in the morning.

This... was the result, now, a good week later. Me standing in front of the door, the envelope in my hand, and shivering so hard as if the air was freezing. I had agreed to go here, hand over the letter, and then willingly do everything the person inside this house demanded of me, not knowing what it would be.

Too late to back out now. I wanted this. I would show Master what good a pet I could be.

I rang the bell.

The door opened before the last *dong* of the musical doorbell had rung out, and before me stood... a horse. He was big, I actually had to tilt my head back to look up into the stallion's eyes, and he filled the door frame from side to side as he stood there, looking down at me. He was wearing a clean, white wife-beater, and some cut-off jeans, frayed at the hems, and too tight for his massive, muscled thighs, the denim stretched to the point of creaking. It did nothing to hide the massive bulge that extended from the space between his legs down the left leg, a fat, sausage-like swelling that ended just above the frayed hem of the shorts.

"Hey...come on in."

He had a deep, rumbling voice, not unpleasant at all, and he even flashed me a short smile before retreating into the house, his hooves loud on the hardwood floor. The stallion didn't seem to care if I followed him, at least, he didn't look back at me as I padded inside, and carefully closed the door. Instead, he pranced down the hallway into what I recognized as the den, once I caught up with his long strides. Plopping himself down onto the couch, he gestured at an armchair on the other side of the small table, and I numbly sat down as well, extending my arm towards him, offering the envelope.

"I.... was told to give you this. Sir."

He chuckled, and reached out with a massive hand to pluck the paper from my grasp, then leant back and began to play with the letter.

"Sir.... ? Really? Well... I won't complain... it's nice being called like that, once in a while..."

Paper rustled as he opened the envelope, extracted the letter inside, and began to read.

I watched with increasing nervousness, and, involuntarily, took a second measure of the stallion. He was young, somewhere between seventeen and twenty-one, and he was a prime example of his species. Long, glistening mane, strong muscles that swelled and bulged beneath his coat. Bushy feathering around his wrists and fetlocks, huge, black hooves, shined to a mirror finish. Yes, this stud was vain, but he had every reason to be... he had assets, and it was only fair that he would show them off.

A snort shook me from my reverie, the stallion had lowered the letter and was now looking at me, a faint smile playing on his soft, broad lips.

"Do you know why you're here, Tim? Do you know what this..." he shook the letter, "means?"

"N... no, Sir. I... I... My Master sent me here, for.... punishment. I... don't know what... he... sees fit, I only know that.... I am supposed to do everything you say, Sir."

"Call me Clyde, puppy." He snorted again, leaned back, and now grinned at me, openly. His legs were splayed open slightly, and I swear that bulge had gotten bigger.

"Your... Master tells me that you've been a bad dog. Is that right?"

"Yes, Si... Clyde. I'm sorry....."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be, later on. What did you do?"

"I've... been unfaithful. Master... has forbidden me to play.... With anyone besides him. And.. I did."

"Couldn't keep that dick in your pants, mhm? Got horny and decided to do the old humping thing, eh?"

The stallion laughed, and spread his arms over the back of the couch, now openly displaying his gorgeous body.

"No.... not like that. I.... It was the other way round, really."

"Oh... so you're a slut? So keen on getting bred that you disobeyed? Well... if that is so... you might actually like what's coming to you."

He stretched, and leaned forward, now focussing on me with frightening intensity.

"You see... Timmy... ", he drawled, and shook the letter once more, "You master asks me here... to make sure you never want to get fucked again. To be precise, he writes.... 'I want you to ruin him completely. Break him in such a way that he will never enjoy getting taken ever again, nor that anyone will ever be able to enjoy his worthless ass. As long as he still lives when I collect him in the evening, there are no limits on what you can do to him.'

Now, that sounds nice, doesn't it?"

My mouth went dry, and yet, I had to swallow. Ruined? Broken? I was not sure what that meant, or rather, I was sure I didn't want to be sure. My gaze flew to the place between the stallion's legs, and sure enough, the bulge had grown - again.

"It's such a pity that he still wants you alive, puppy..."

Clyde's words filtered into my mind like through thick, soupy fog.

"Usually when I break someone in, they don't make it... I never stop before I'm balls deep... it's way too much fun to feel 'em ripping apart, you see...."

My ears began to fold back on their own accord, and my fingertips began to tingle as shock settled in.

"But... for you... I'll make an exception. I'm just going to tear you open, puppy, and breed you a couple of times... make you a proper little slut... make sure you'd need to find a guy like me to feel anything up there...."

He was standing up now, and the bulge in his pants was now extending all the way down his leg, and something that only could be the tip of his shaft was peeking out. I swallowed again, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. He was coming closer, and I could smell him, the excitement on him, the masculinity he was oozing out of every pore, and his... lust, thick and heavy, as bold and strong as his whole body was.

I whimpered when he grabbed me and hauled me to my paws by the scruff of my neck, and I began to quietly sob when he navigated me through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the basement.

The room we entered was what I would expect to be the room of your typical student. A writing desk, overloaded with paper and books at the edges, and with a large computer screen in the middle. An unmade bed, oversized to take Clyde's bulk. Some dirty clothes strewn about the floor, and of course, the unavoidable posters on the walls. I could see an open door leading to a bathroom, but it was not that door the stallion steered me towards. It was a second door, and it opened up into a brightly lit room with white walls and a hard tiled floor. I saw a weightlifting bench here, and one of those strange scaffolds with ropes and weights and a multitude of handles and grips, to be used with various exercises for different parts of the body. There were also a couple gym mats in one corner, and a rack with barbells and weights on one wall. It became clear to me how Clyde maintained his muscled physique, he probably spent as much time in here as he spent at his desk. Behind me, I heard the door close, and then, Clyde stood before me, grinning.

"Well... what are you waiting for? Get rid of those clothes, pup. I want to see what I have to play with today..."

Almost reflexively, I began undressing. Slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, then peeled it off, followed by the undershirt. The movements were familiar, and performing them was somewhat of a comfort in this strange environment, and in this even stranger situation. When I bent down to slip of my sneakers, the stallion spoke up again.

"You're not looking half bad, dog. Keeping in shape as well, mhmm? What are you, by the way... honey labrador?"

"Golden retriever, actually," I replied, "Mostly, that is. There must have been some lab in my ancestry, so you could technically call me a mutt. And yes, I do run."

That got a laugh out of him. "A mutt, eh? Well, it's all the same to me... A hole is a hole, as long as it's tight... and they're all tight... before....." He snorted another laugh at me, and ran his hand along the insides of his thighs. "Purebred clydesdale, here. You're in for a treat."

I had just stepped out of my pants, and had already hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers, ready to slip them down as well, when his last statement made me freeze. A clydesdale... of course. I could have guessed it from the name, but... I had been too locked up mentally by the prospect of what was to come. Now, however, fear really started to well up in me, icy cold and acidic, making my stomach cramp and my tail curl between my legs. Clydesdales were known to be hung, even for horses, and there was one piece of advice that was passed on from old hand to newbie in the cruising clubs... don't get under a clyde, unless you're well trained, or a horse yourself. Preferably both.

With one swift movement, I pushed down my boxers and stepped out of them, almost automatically falling into the "inspection" position, legs slightly spread, hands clutched behind my back, head respectfully lowered a few degrees. All the time I had spent with my Master had thoroughly removed me being self-conscious about being naked, in fact, I felt more natural, more myself without being tied up with pants or shirts. It felt like a relief to be standing here properly, for the first time, ready to be inspected, and eventually, used.

"Mhhmm... nice. Ever get to use that tackle of yours?"

"No sir. I mean, no, Clyde. Sorry for that. Sometimes I am allowed to touch myself, but not very often."

"Shame, really. But, you said you'd rather take than hand out anyway."

He was standing in front of me again after having walked around me once, and was now peeling off his wife beater, revealing an expanse of fur and muscles. His shorts... came next, and I was actually holding my breath as he pushed them down and let their contents spill. It was a good thing, too, because if I hadn't, I would have gasped. Clyde was... huge, to say the least, his shaft still soft and hanging down like a heavy pendulum, and yet, it was the biggest cock I had ever seen. Mottled brown and pink, the leathery skin looked tough and smooth at the same time, the wrinkles and folds promising a lot more potential for growth than could be good for me. Still, it was.. mesmerizing to watch that meaty club swing back and forth between those pillar-like legs, its tip already wider than the biggest knot I had seen so far. His balls...were a totally different matter. They hung low in their sac, stretching finely furred skin to taught folds above, and pushing out below. It looked like there were two water balloons hanging from the stallions groin, full to bursting with potent, fertile cream.

"You.... should do porn......"

It slipped out of me before I could stop it. Clyde was, without a doubt, a work of art, he was practically dripping with masculinity and vigor. A stud in the literal sense, a breeding machine, honed to perfection by working out and intensive training.

"So you like what you see, mhm? For a cockhound like you.... " he grinned, grabbed his shaft and raised it so that the tip was pointing at me like the muzzle of a gun, "This thing must be heaven. Ever seen a real cock up close, puppy?"

He came closer, half a step, and practically shoved his tip against my nose.

I licked it. There wasn't anything else I could do, he was right - his maleness was, from tip to base, not only the biggest I had ever seen, it also was.. In a way... the most attractive one. Besides, he smelled like sex, distilled and unfiltered. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like he just had had sex... his scent was the promise of sex to come. His taste, however, was the promise of getting bred. I felt my eyes flutter shut, and my knees going weak as his taste spread over my tongue and crept up into my nose, overwhelming me with the force of a fist smashing into my face. I whimpered, and licked again, my tongue lapping at his meat, my ears folding back, and, to my shame, my own shaft beginning to emerge from my sheath. I couldn't help it. In a world full of averages, he was the extraordinary.

"Niiiice....", Clyde rumbled, and placed one hand behind my head, just holding me gently while his other hand carefully angled his shaft this way and that, exposing fresh patches of skin for my tongue to wetten. "That's right. Get me nice and hard, pup. Worship the tool that's gonna split you apart. Show me.... " He took a deep breath here, and his fingers curled into my neck fur, petting me. "Show me... how much of a slut you really are, Timmy... show me how much you want this...."

My ears went totally flat at this, and the tip of my tail touched the exposed flesh of my cock. For a moment, I had totally forgotten what he was supposed to do, had gotten lost in my admiration of his formidable maleness. I shouldn't be doing this, I said to myself, I should not help him to destroy me. But I kept licking. I went further down his now hardening and still growing length, snuffled along his medial ring, made my tongue trace the veins underneath the leathery skin, pressed my muzzle into the hollow between his base and his sack, and inhaled, absorbed his scent, his maleness, his potency. My hands found his weapon, and I began to massage him, felt his heart force more and more blood into the club-like shaft, hardening it more and more, until I became unable to encompass his base, even with both of my hands stretched out as far as they would go. Clyde was massive, and I was falling down the subby spiral faster than I ever had before.

Something warm hit my back, and when I looked up, I saw a silvery thread spinning down from his tip, the wetness now running down along my spine. As I watched, I saw another gob of pre appearing at his tip, falling down as well, causing the same sensation as before as it hit my fur. I also saw... him, in his full glory now. He was longer than my entire arm, and his tip must have been at least as wide as my closed fist. He was bobbing slightly with the beat of his heart, and he was, by now, hard enough to not bend down any longer.

"You are... magnificent, sir...."

"Yeah, I know. It's not going to help you, making nice with me, you know. Still gonna fuck you." Clyde looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with lust and.... malice? "It said in the letter that you actually want to be punished... is that right?"

I simply nodded. At this point, I was beyond caring. I felt like I was in a trance, and what was happening was almost surreal.

"Then.....", Clyde drawled, and pressed something into my hand that turned out to be a leather strap, about as wide as my thumb. "Why don't you show me how much you want to be punished.... And wrap that thing around my dick. Get me even harder..... And make absolutely sure you'll be broken when I go in."

He wasn't even done speaking when my fingers started to move, wrapping the strip of leather around his base, pulling it tight enough to cut into the the skin, compressing the veins underneath.

"And.....puppy... if you beg, really, really nicely... I'm even going to take you dry...."

I blinked, still pulling the strap tight, forcing the snaps closed, all four of them, one after the other.

"We're getting all of this on camera... for your Master.....", Clyde murmured again.

It made sense, in a way. I could show Master how much I wanted to atone for my sins... and... I could show... Clyde... how much of a slut I really was. I pressed the last snap closed, then straightened myself, my fingertips resting on his hot, hard meat, now feeling more like an oaken log then a living shaft.

"Sir... would you.. Please... take me dry... I know it's gonna be uncomfortable for you... but... I don't know who else would be strong enough to be able to do this. Everyone else I ever had used lube... lots of lube... but you... are so powerful, so strong... you won't need it... not for me... "

A growl came from the stallion, and one of his hooves shifted. I was barely in time to pull my foot out of the way, preventing my toes from being crushed under his weight.

"Not good enough, kid, you make it sound like you're doing this for me, not for you..."

I swallowed. "Please, I beg you.... I... I want to feel... you... pure... raw.. I want you to... force me to accept you... just.. me, no help... no mercy... no.. lube. Just... your power. I beg you to... make me scream, sir, to... take me like the dirty slut I am, to make me... yours..."

Another growl. "Grab your shirt, pup, and wipe me off. You're going to get me, as you want, raw... your blood's gonna be the only lube you get."

I didn't think. Instead, I watched my hands, as they grabbed my shirt, and began to blot the moisture from Clyde's shaft, beginning at the base, carefully removing any trace of wetness. The veins underneath his skin were really showing now, a web of pipes, threatening to burst through the leathery skin that covered them. It was an unbelievable display of virility and power, and I felt my pathetic little dick give a little jerk.

The medial ring was pulsing as I reached it, and the whole shaft was now arching upwards, the tip quivering slightly above. It had begun to flare, the pressure increase from the cockring enough to trigger what usually only happened immediately before orgasm... making the flat, slightly domed end of his tool even wider than it had been before. My ring puckered at the thought of this pillar of maleness being inside me, and I bit my tongue to stifle a whimper.

Clyde... snorted. I had reached the end of the pole, wiping away the last drop of pre of his hot skin. No new liquid was coming forth, the strap wrapped around his base also prevented this little mercy from easing my sentence. And a short look up at his eyes...

I shivered, he was grinning, licking his lips, and staring at me with burning eyes, him being the predator, and me being the prey.

"Get on the bench, puppy. Lay down on your belly, spread your legs and lift your tail for me. I want to take a picture.... A before picture... to remember the last moment you've been intact...."

The leather of the bench was cool against my belly as I lay down on it, my hands finding and gripping the chrome steel legs of the bench, holding on. I spread my legs, just as I had been told, and lifted my tail, all the way up, almost curling it above my back. His hooves came down behind my feet, and with a rough kick, he forced my legs even further apart, the strain causing me to whimper slightly, my pelvis not flexible enough to do a full splits. There was the sound of his cell phone's camera, once, twice, three times.... And then, his hands came down on my shoulders, pressing me down hard enough to make my bones creak. No words were spoken, there was no countdown, no taunting. Just his heat under my tail as he positioned himself, aimed his shaft under my tail and centered it on my ring, a battering ram locking into the target.

There was a grunt from above and ...

I screamed.

Never, ever in my whole life had I experienced pain like this. Not when my master had whipped me to unconsciousness with his belt, not when my virginity was taken, not when, years ago, I had broken my arm. I had thought that had been pain, back then, but I had been wrong. This, this was pain. It was physical, a manifestation of white-hot energy, radiating out from between my legs, into my belly, my chest, even my toes and my arms. It was as if the whole world had been lit on fire, and then turned inside out, packing all this heat and fire inside me... or rather, under my tail.

I screamed till my lungs were empty, my body thrashing like a fish on the land, my hands clawing at the floor while my legs kicked and struggled, every fiber of my being desperately trying to get away, to flee, to distance itself from the cruel, merciless shaft that hat entered me... and had ripped me apart.

Clyde had, with one thrust, in the time of an eyeblink, rammed the tip and a good hand's width of his cannon into me, denying my body even the slightest chance to stretch. He had just punched through, his strength and skill shredding the skin and muscle of my tailhole, ripping it apart like wet paper.

I couldn't breathe, my muzzle was standing open in a silent, desperate scream, while my muscles locked up in cramps and tears began to flow from my eyes, leaving deep, wet trails in my fur. I was held in place by the weight of the stallion above me, and by the hardness of his cock, which quickly drove me to hold my pelvis still... since every movement down there only increased the pain and suffering from my torn ring.

I don't know if it was seconds or minutes I writhed and thrashed, but... eventually, the pink haze in front my eyes cleared somewhat, and sensations other than pain returned to my senses.

My hands and feet were tingling, I was teetering on the edge of shock, and something warm and sticky was running down the insides of my legs, and over my sac. It couldn't have been anything else but blood. My blood. And... there was this thick, heavy log inside me, massive and arrogant, taking up more space than any knot I ever had inside me, twitching with a steady, throbbing pulse, each heartbeat sending a new flash of pain through me.

"Please.... take it out....hurts...."

It couldn't have been anyone else by me who said those words, but the voice didn't sound like mine at all. It was hoarse and dry, raspy and harsh, and had a whining undertone that I never, ever had heard coming from me.

There was a chuckle from above me. "I know.... It's gonna hurt a whole lot more, puppy. I haven't even started yet....."

In that moment, I understood. Clyde.... loved it. He loved the pain he caused me, he loved being able to torture a living being, just by using his superior strength and size. He had said he usually didn't stop, something I had dismissed as boasting, as typically male talk, but there, in that moment, as he shifted his weight and began to press his shaft into me, millimeter by millimeter, reigniting the fire around my ring and starting new ones deep inside me, making me scream and howl again with vigor, I understood what kind of creature my Master had given me to. And that every word, every statement he had given, would become true, that he would not stop until he had utterly, and completely, broken me.

It took him minutes to seat that tool of his inside my body, stopping often to allow me to recover and regain my senses, to let me feel how my intestines were stretched and straightened, how the fat, ruthless tip of his maleness forged its path through my inner core, and how it travelled upwards through my belly, until it came to rest under the curve of my left ribs. It was sticking out, I was sure, the pressure from the outside, from the leather of the bench, was as prominent as the pressure inside me. I was sure that he had rearranged my organs, that he had shifted the natural order of things to park his shaft there, and I knew there was more outside me, his medial ring had just touched my cracked entrance. And already I was full, the pressure under my ribs a foreign, alien presence, uncomfortable to the point of pain.

He stopped, and ran his fingers along my sides. I was calm at that point, my energy to fight and twitch exhausted, and I was panting like I just had completed two hours of running. The fur on my legs was sticky, and the fierce, blinding pain of my ass had been replaced by a dull and constant burning, only flaring up when one of his veins passed through one of the uncountable wounds of my ring.

"Ah... " he whispered, his voice deep and sweet like poisonous honey, "There's the spot." He gave a short roll of his hips, shifting his mass forward, and his tip punched me from the inside out, making me gasp.

"It's a fucking shame you have to live," he whispered on, "Just one thrust, and I'd have you. Fucking fleshlight, made to measure for my cock... "

He thrust again, but this time, he didn't let up, he kept the pressure up and again, glided in, millimeter by millimeter. The pressure inside me grew, and what had been uncomfortable before, now became pain, once again, growing with every little bit that passed through my portal. Soon enough, I started screaming again, in short, airless yips, breathing nearly impossible as he compressed my diaphragm and my lung, the tissue that kept him from entering my chest getting stretched thinner and thinner. The medial ring forced itself through my entrance, I could feel the rips and cuts getting deeper as the massive bulge tore its way through, and then, just as I thought it would be over with another nuclear explosion of pain, he let up. He had stretched me literally to an inch of my life, had proven to me that he not only had the means to snuff me out as easily as I blew out a candle, but that he also was skilled enough to not do that - very precisely, very effectively.

The camera clicked again, multiple times. The bench creaked, and the sinews and joints in his legs cracked as he shifted himself around, placed his hands on my shoulders again.

"You comfy down there, pup? Yeah? Good... Let's ride."

He nickered, shrill and loud, pulled back and.....

I drifted in and out of consciousness over the next half hour, while Clyde, snorting and grunting like a feral, fucked me with all that he had to give. His shaft punched into me like a giant fist, driven by a bodybuilder, and the impacts of his tip must have bruised me up from the inside out along the whole length of my belly. I heard myself cry and whimper, I heard myself beg for mercy, I even remember myself begging him to just kill me and have done with it... but everything I did, everything I said, only seemed to spur him on. At some point, warm flecks of foamy horse sweat rained down on me, aromatic and intense, at another point, the wetness from my ring reached my paws and began to form small pools there. His fingers made my collar bones creak, and his hooves left scratches on the tiles - all the while his legs and hips worked like a machine, tirelessly, emotionlessly, driving that shaft into my body, pounding me into a pulp.

And then, it was over, suddenly, and without warning. From one moment to the other, he ripped himself out, leaving behind a raw and spasming tunnel, my muscles protesting as much against the sudden emptiness as they had protested against getting stretched so brutally. I heard the snaps of the leather strap coming off, and then, a loud, rolling nicker, followed by a solid, hot jet hitting me between the shoulders. He was coming, and he was drenching me with his seed, hosing me down with his cream. Marking me. Branding me with his essence, too precious and too valuable to bury it inside me, denying me even the small, the only satisfaction a good slut has... the satisfaction of taking part in the orgasm of his rapist. He wasn't giving me that. Instead, he soaked me in his cum, in his buckets and buckets of stallion cream, soaking my fur through with his lust.

I don't know how much time had passed when the room swam back into focus, the utilitarian environment as cold and heartless as my tormentor had been. Clyde was still standing over my wet body, my legs soaked with my blood, my back swimming with his seed, which was slowly congealing into my fur. The raw, unfiltered scents of our coupling flooded my nose, my intense, sour fear easily overpowered by his unbridled masculinity. I heard him shift his weight, felt the air move as he stepped back, and then, he came into view as he stepped in front of me. He was drenched in sweat, his fur clinging to his body like a second skin, underlining his superior physique even more. His shaft was still half hard, and it was covered in a pink and red froth, his juices combined with my life's essence, whipped to a foam by his energetic, tireless fucking. Splatters of the same substance stuck to his legs, and as my gaze wandered down to his hooves, he shifted a bit to the left, his hoof coming down on the pile of my discarded clothes. I could just make out the tip of my sneaker as he stepped down, compressing the white leather into a flat, solid mass, the sole buckling under his weight. For a second, nothing happened, then, the cushion in the heel of my shoe popped with the sound of a muffled gunshot, unable to support his load.

"...Huh." Clyde looked down, raised his hoof and picked up the remains of one-half of a two hundred dollar pair of sneakers. He grinned, first to himself, and then at me, noticing that my gaze was still aimed at the ground where he stood, me being unable to lift my head even if I had wanted to.

"Weak." Clyde chuckled. "Weak, just like you. Get up, Timmy... we're gonna clean up for round two."

Round two? Was this maniac planning on having another go at me? I felt like a train had run through me, and then over me on its trip back, my muscles were sore, my insides... my insides weren't mine anymore, the feeling of the gaping tunnel that refused to close up so alien to me it felt hardly like my body anymore. I whined when I tried to peel myself off the bench, fur sticking to the leather and ripping out in small tufts when I finally managed to roll myself to the side, curling my legs under me, the movement forcing another, pained yelp over my lips. My whole bum still felt like it was on fire, the tears and rips in my ring burning as if soaked in acid. Still I could feel the occasional drip falling out of me, and my legs were shaking hard when I managed to get up on all fours at least, and crawl over to where Clyde was standing like the statue of a vengeful god.

"Please.... Clyde...." I whispered harshly, "Please... let me ... thank you for... breaking me...."

I had expected a chuckle, satisfied and proud, but what my ears picked up was - a laugh. Genuinely amused laughter.

"Breaking you... puppy, I'm not done with you. You still can talk... and your fucking pussy needs a lot more work done before I let you go...but thanking me, you will. In a minute. Now get up, I wanna get you clean before I get you messed up again."

His hand came down and grabbed me by my neckfur again, lifting me up with apparent ease, carrying me like the puppy I was... out, into his room, and then, through the door into the little bathroom. He literally dropped me into the shower, and carelessly turned on the water before leaving again. The cold water hit me like a hammer, driving my breath from my lungs, and I couldn't do anything but curl up and gasp while I heard him rummaging around in his room, maybe looking for something.

Gradually, the temperature rose, and soon enough, steam began to fill the cabin, the hot water soothing my muscles, relaxing my cramps, and somehow even easing the pain of my torn behind. I unfolded, stretched, and even sighed, my eyes closed and my face turned towards the shower head.

It was then when he returned, stepping in with me, snorting briefly as he watched my enjoyment. I blinked, wiping the water from my eyes to look up at him as he stood over me, legs spread, one hand propped against the showers wall, the other holding... a bunny.

I blinked again, unable to believe my eyes. Clyde was indeed holding a bunny - a feral fluff ball - by its neck, just like he had carried me, and he was grinning widely down at me.

"Don't think I didn't notice you staring, pup," he rumbled. "Didn't say in the letter that you'd be a hoofslut as well, but, I'm not complaining. Thought I'd show you what else I'm good for, to get me going again... what do you think, eh?"

My muzzle opened, and closed again, unable to answer the question that wasn't meant to be answered anyway. I simply didn't understand what he was talking about Hoofslut? I had heard about that kind of fetish, folks being into paws and hooves and whatnot, but I had never...

I was torn from my stream of thoughts by the wet thud of the bunny falling to the ground right in front of my body. The rodent was dazed by the fall, struggled twice to get its paws under him on the wet, slippery floor, but finally managed, staring around, probably looking for a way out. But... it never came to that. Instead, Clyde raised a hoof and planted it onto the bunny, the front edge of his solid, black hoof just behind the rodent's shoulders.

The bunny squeaked and ducked, stretching out instinctively to avoid the touch, but Clyde simply followed through, pinning the wet animal down with what must have been a tiny fraction of his weight. The bunny struggled, paws and claws scrabbling over wet tiles, its body twisting and turning to get away from the pressure from above.

"Watch.....", purred Clyde, staring down at the bunny with the same intensity he had looked at me with before, the steely gaze of a predator who had caught his prey. "Watch what happens...."

The bunny screamed as the edge of Clyde's hoof bit into its flesh, the stallion stepping down gradually, applying more and more pressure. Caught between two unyielding surfaces, the tiled floor and the equally hard material of Clyde's lowest appendage, there was simply no way out for the animal, and it was beginning to panic. It's screams grew in pitch and volume as it's struggles became more and more frantic, and it's eyes began to go wide and large with fear.

I couldn't look away. I was forced to watch the most horrific display of heartless sadism I had ever seen, but all I could do was to stare, open-muzzled, and frozen in place under the steady stream of steaming water.

The bunny's wails changed. What were long, shrill screams before, now turned into short, breathless yips and gasps, Clyde's weight compressing the animals ribcage to the point where breathing became impossible. Also, the struggling ceased, the bunny now arcing it's back instead, raising its head high in a rictus of desperation. I could see the small body deforming, millimeter by millimeter, getting flatter and broader, and I could hear the soft snap as its spine broke under the stallions pressure. A series of crackles, not unlike the sound you get when you ball up an empty bag of chips, followed, the rodents bones giving way in a cascade of failure, it's body losing its ability to stay in shape fast.

And then, with a satisfied snort, Clyde put his hoof on the ground. The bunny's body exploded with a wet pop, a fountain of gore splattering out in a straight line from Clyde's fetlocks to the wall, the bunny's lower body turned into pulp with astonishing ease. The front half was cut off neatly behind the shoulders, it's now dead eyes staring pleadingly at me, a trickle of blood running from the corner of it's silently screaming mouth.

Very slowly, I looked up. My eyes traced Clyde's pillar-like leg, glided along his massive, newly hard shaft, his wet washboard of abs, his strong, glistening pecs... and then met his eyes, staring down at me with a truly shit-eating grin. Never had I felt so worthless as in this moment, curled up at the feet of this god-like stallion, who had just pressed the life out of another creature, just to get aroused again..... And to teach me a lesson. I wasn't stupid, it had been clear from the start that he would be perfectly able to do to me what he had just done to the rabbit, and that it was by his generosity and mercy alone I was still in one piece... and not some bloody gunk dripping of his hooves.

His grin widened as he saw the realisation in my eyes - he knew that I knew, and he also knew that... I knew I couldn't... wouldn't fight him.

He raised his leg, his hoof separating from the mess on the ground with a wet, squelching sound, and he thrust the underside into my face, the size of his stomper blotting out everything else.

"Lick."

The command came with the total assurance that there would be no discussion, no hesitation... and no resistance.

And there wasn't any. My tongue came out, and I started to lick away the gore, the pulverized remains of muscle and bone, the flattened intestines, the clotted, compressed bits of fur from his sole. I gagged, once, twice, three times, but I never stopped licking, I never turned my head away. I heard myself whimpering, and to my absolute horror, I felt myself getting hard.

It wasn't that I was turned on by what I was doing. I was being turned on by being forced to do it... by him. He was walking over me, crushing my self-confidence and my free will with the same ease he had crushed the bones of the rabbit, and he was enjoying every single moment of doing so.

"Good boy. When you're done, I'm going to fuck you again."

I whimpered again, and licked faster. My guts contracted in a painful cramp at the thought of having that oversized piece of horseflesh forced into me again, but at the same time, my own little cock gave a pulse, hardening more and expelling a drop of pre. I was torn between looking forward to the attention I would be getting, and fearing the inevitable, horrific pain it would bring. I knew my ring was raw and probably still bleeding, and that, even if he used lube this time, it would be as torturous as before, but... there was this empty space inside me, and I knew he would fill it perfectly.

I grabbed his hoof with both hands, the sole now being clean, and pulled it into my lap, lowering my head so I could lick and worship the outside, the smoothly polished surface like glass under my tongue. My shaft gave another pulse, and was now rubbing against the sole that had casually ended a life not five minutes ago. He must have noticed, because he pushed against me, grinding his hoof between my legs, making me gasp in both lust and pain, my balls threatening to be crushed under his weight.

He bent down and picked me up, holding me high enough to look into my face without bending his head, and grinned at me. "Grab my neck, puppy," he snorted, and I did, wrapping my arms around his neck like a lover's embrace. He shifted his grip to my tail, yanking me up and supporting my weight there, making me yowl in fresh, new pain, and forcing me to pull myself up with my trembling arms to not have my tail simply ripped out of my bum. Then, with his free hand, he grabbed his weapon and nestled the tip under my tail, the simple touch of his hot, hard flesh making me scream in protest, my ring on fire once more.

"Gotta make sure it takes, you know," he chuckled, now yanking my tail downwards, stretching my whole body over his tip like a too-small condom.

"Can't have you heal up. Want that hole destroyed, not stretched."

It was slower this time, and it allowed me to feel every rip, every tear in my skin and muscles opening up again, the wetness from the shower worse than no lubricant at all, his skin rough like sandpaper on my raw flesh.

It took several seconds before his tip seated itself inside me, and I was sobbing and screaming by that time, clinging to his neck and mane, my head buried in his wet, musky fur.

He was relentless. Slowly, ever so slowly, he forced me lower, my tail securely in his crushing grip, letting me feel every vein and bump under the skin of his wood-hard erection as it entered me, and scoured over my wounded insides. I cried like a child, snuggled up against his broad chest, my fingers digging into the rough hairs of his mane, my legs spread wide, my toes curled, but I didn't fight him. I knew I couldn't, I knew I wouldn't, and I knew... this was for my best.

He stopped, eventually, and let go of my tail with a snort, just to place both of his hands against the wall of the shower, as if bracing himself. I ... was confused, I knew there was still room inside me, he had been much deeper the first time he took me, but still, he made no attempt to sheathe himself further into my body. Only when I felt his muscles tense, I got a hint of what was about to come.

"Hold on good. Gonna fuck you now... If you let go, you're gonna get popped, puppy. Not my fault then...."

He nickered, and then... simply bucked his hips up. Inertia kept me in place, his malehood was too hard to bend... so, inevitably, it was rammed into me, the stallion's battering ram doing it's job of making me fit to its size once more. I felt it rushing in, the fist-like tip punching my guts, hammering against the barrier between life and death with unbridled force. It drove the air from my lungs in an almost comical yip, and by sheer reflex, I pulled up with my arms, lifting my body just in time to avoid being literally impaled by my punisher.

He bucked again, and again, and again... and I clung on for dear life, pulling myself up every time he thundered in, my arms screaming from the workout, while from my innards, the strangest feeling of squishiness began to spread through me. I howled, I screamed, I sobbed, but there was no response, no comment, just that brutal, machine-like hammering of his shaft into me, his fuckpiston driven by raw, unfettered horsepower, battering my insides to pudding and beyond.

My world was reduced to two things during that fuck, his shaft, and his body. Every thrust, every buck, I could feel, not only inside me, but on my whole body, the magnificent beast that he was pressed so close to me that every of his muscles rubbed against my fur, letting me experience the perfectly tuned play of his body. I could feel the air rushing into his cavernous lungs, I could feel the strength of his legs, constantly working to balance the load of him and me combined, I could feel the little twitches and ticks under his skin, and I could feel the snorts and nickers he bulged out, more than I could hear them. I could also feel how he began to tense up after only a short while, the position and the lack of the cockstrap making him reach his climax much faster than before, and through the haze of my perceptions, both from him and from myself, I whispered the words, "Breed me", silent first, then louder, until I screamed them out, in between my own moans and grunts of pain.

I didn't get a response, and so I continued begging him for it. I knew that if he came inside me, I was... worthy of something again, I would know that I had brought him pleasure, at least, and that, maybe, I would be able to come as well. I was achingly hard at this point, I knew it on an abstract level, my own lust insignificant compared to the pleasure of Clyde himself.

I got my answer when his body locked up in the very second before his eruption. He yanked himself out of me, but thrust up again, only that this time, his shaft speared into the space between him and me, the tip jutting up to my chest, already flaring up. The opening of his urethra winked at me like the caricature of an eye, before a solid jet of white cream shot out of it, hitting me under the chin, soaking me through to the skin. He grunted and shrilled his lust out for the world to hear, and pulsed six more times, each shot more than I could produce in a day.... And again, he had refused to fill me, had decided I was not worthy to receive his essence, had decided he'd rather let his lust wash down the drain than to soothe my battered tunnel with his cream.

Exhaustion washed over me like the hot water that was still streaming from the shower. Unable to keep my grip, I slowly slid down and crumpled into a soggy heap between his legs, eyes closed and curled up into a fetal position. Everything hurt. My arms, my legs, my belly, my diaphragm... Getting rolled over by a bus couldn't be worse that the battering I just had received, and I gave a blissful sigh as unconsciousness overcame me, like a warm, dark wave..

When I came to, I found myself wrapped in a towel, large enough to serve as a blanket for me. I was still curled up, but I wasn't in the shower anymore - I had been placed on a couch, by Clyde, no doubt, who was sitting next to me and who had rested my head on his thigh. He was still naked, but had dried himself off, and his damp fur bristled against my cheek. The scent of his package was fainter now, after the washing, but it was still there, a constant presence in my nostrils, warm, musky and male. I must have stirred somehow, because he shifted and looked down at me, his eyes narrowing as he focussed on me, his lips pulling into a grin.

"Awake again, puppy? Nice... I wanna show you something."

He pushed me upright, but still kept me close, his large hand pulling my body next to his much larger one. "You said before that I should do porn, right? Turns out, I already do." He chuckled, and reached for what must have been a remote control. "You've been whining to get bred. So I thought I'd show you how that looks when I make someone my bitch for real."

He flicked on the TV, and started the clip.

The scene was a bare room with concrete walls and concrete floor, dark with age, but well-lit. There wasn't much furniture about, but in the center, there was a contraption that looked like a cross between the weightlifting bench I had been fucked on, and a gym's vaulting horse. Bent over the massive looking device was a scrawny fox who looked like he was no older than sixteen, his fur damp and spiked in several places. He was tied down securely, solid steel manacles clamped around each wrist and ankle, and taught chains pulled the poor boy down so hard it looked painful already. A short leather strap had been wrapped around the foxes muzzle, and the root of his tail had been wrapped with several layers of what looked like medical tape, compressing the fluff there to a solid rope.

The image remained static, except for the feeble struggling of the fox, until, a few seconds later, Clyde appeared from the right. He was naked except for a black leather harness, some studded cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and a black executioner's hood, apparently made from leather as well. His fur was oiled to a slick sheen, which made him look even more muscular than he already was. He was sporting a massive erection - hard enough to sway only slightly as he walked, his shaft as large and menacing as I had seen and felt it myself.

The intention of the setup was clear, yet, I somehow hoped that it wouldn't be what I was fearing.

My hope died the very moment Clyde stepped up behind the fox. The height of the bench was perfect for him, his shaft came to rest on the foxes back naturally, the tip reaching up far between the poor kit's shoulder blades when Clyde bent forward to remove the muzzle strip from his victim, and tied it around the base of his shaft.

The video cut to a close up of his fingers working with the leather, and it became clear that his cock was nearly as thick as the kit's bony thigh.

I half-closed my eyes, not really wanting to see what came next, but the sounds were... enough. I heard the gasp of air, as the foxes muzzle was freed, the heavy clop of Clydes hooves, the deep grunt, combined with the pleading whimper as he must have placed the tip of his ram...

"Hey, watch this, puppy. He was smaller than you, a lot, and it took some work to crack him open..."

Clyde had shaken me by the neck as if to wake me up, and I gave a small, frightened noise in response.

On the screen, he had just placed his tip under the foxes tail, and was now reaching out to dig his fingers into the kit's bony hips. The noises coming from the victim became louder now, panic setting in as Clyde applied pressure, his muscles tensing under his oiled fur like thick, heavy steel cables. I watched with amazement as his shaft, that unbreakable pillar of cast iron bent under the enormous pressure, the fox simply to tight to accept the massive rod without a fight. Clyde began to roll his hips then, using his weapon like an enormous, fleshy drill, working the too-tight ring open.

The camera angle changed then, to a close-up shot of the place where Clyde's tip was working on spreading the fox open. It was just in time for a nice, slow-motion shot, underlined by an absolutely horrific scream, of the poor kit's ring splitting, tearing in three places at once, and the stallion's tool popping inside with definite finality.

"I just love that sound," the stallion next to me rumbled, and started to stroke his shaft, which had begun to harden again. "That scream... when I rip 'em open... sweetest sound there is. Yours wasn't bad, either."

I swallowed hard. The mentioning of how he had treated me brought my focus back to my own, abused tailhole, and the constant, dull throbbing of pain radiating from there. I had almost gotten used to the feeling, but now... I noticed it again, prominently.

On the screen, Clyde was now fucking the fox for all hie was worth, snorting and nickering, ramming his tool deeply into the uselessly fighting kit. Blood was splattering on the floor and coating both the foxes and Clyde's legs, and I was glad the volume was turned down, because the beastial screams and howls were hurting my ears already.

"Watch now," Clyde mentioned as his video-self was stepping closer to the bench, "Here's where I silence him."

And that, he did. Sudden silence occurred when Clyde bucked his hips forward aggressively, ramming the medial ring and most of his lower shaft into the fox. I knew the tip must have ripped through intestine and diaphragm and was now compressing the victim's lungs, and as if to confirm my suspicion, the view switched again, now to the foxes distorted face, where a trickle of pink foam was running down from his silently screaming maw.

The view of the foxes face stayed on the screen as a picture-in-picture feature when the camera cut back to the complete viewing angle, where now Clyde had grabbed the foxes shoulders and was hammering away, using his full length in powerful, athletic strokes, literally ramming the life out of his toy. He came shortly thereafter, with a shrill whinney... and a small fountain of pinkish white goo flowing from the kit's maw and nostrils.

"There, that's what happens when I breed. Still want to become my bitch, Timmy?"

I leaned back, speechless. What I had just seen had been the most depraved, most perverted form of sex I could remember, and yet, the way it had been filmed and produced made clear this was a professional product, made by people who knew their job perfectly. And that, I had to admit, included Clyde as a performer. The fox was dead, that was certain, no one could survive such a fucking... and it had been too real, too rich in detail to have been CGI. I knew, by now, how Clyde's horrible tool felt when it was inside someone, and everything, really everything had been real.

"If you wanna be my bitch, I gotta break something."

"You... can't, I got to go back to... Master...", I stammered. I was looking at him now, his strangely intense gaze, his fully hardened cock, his slow, deliberate stroking motions.

"Yeah, true, but ... " Clyde grinned. "He never said you had to be able to cum after I'm through with you. Right?"

I caught myself nodding. Master had not said that, and the letter hadn't either, so he was, technically, correct. I still didn't like where this was going, and unconsciously, I cupped my balls with my hands.

"Nah, not them. Too easy. Your berries would pop if I squeezed them with two fingers. Nah, I'm gonna smash your prostate. Fuck your last snot right out of you, and then keep going till I crush it like that bunny. And then... "

He made a pause, grinning at me widely, "I'm gonna breed you good and proper."

My ears twitched, caught between wanting to fold back, and perk up. He had just offered me to allow me to cum... and I hadn't cum since that last, fateful encounter without my master. I could go on without it for a lot longer, I was used to it, but... there was something about the whole situation that made me horny. But... he had also named his price. Destroy my prostate. The one thing inside me that made getting taken pleasurable. One of the organs responsible for cumming. Possibly even for having a climax. Definitely for breeding.....not that _that_ever had been on my to-do list. And he had also offered me to pour his seed.. his essence, his lust... into me.

I swallowed hard.

"You.... could do that anyway. You're allowed to, you know. Why tell me?"

He bent down and put a finger on my nose, a finger that smelled very much like his cock, which he had been stroking slowly.

"Because... I want you to beg for it. I want you to want it... I want you to accept that... you're so worthless... that the only way you can get my cum... is to sacrifice yourself to me."

I blinked at him, speechless.

"Folks do that, you know?" One slow stroke along his length. "Come to me and beg me to fuck them. Little guys, like you. They know..." Another, slow stroke, and an equine chuckle. "They know I don't stop. They've all seen the videos... and still... they come. And they cry and howl and whine while I I tear em open... and still.. They beg... for all of it."

I watched as a drop of pre appeared at the tip of his lance, and his fingers spreading it over his length like massage oil. He was really, really getting off on this.

"And then I give them what they want. Best feeling in the world, punching through the guts of some stupid boy... only thing that's better is when the little fuckers are so tight I get to break their hips."

I had no doubt he could do it, and even less doubt that he would. This guy was something else.

"So, what about it, pup? Wanna leave? You can just up and go. I'm through with what I can do to you for now, That ass of yours isn't ever gonna be tight again, you're loose like an old cow now. Only snug for fuckers like me. A cat's gonna feel like throwing a hotdog into a hallway."

He laughed, and I painfully admitted to myself that he was right... but.. Even if he wouldn't be, I wouldn't be interested in cats ever again. Or, for that matter, anyone else with a dick smaller than his.

"Or..... you can start begging anytime you feel like it. If I like what I'm hearing, I might even do it."

I didn't move for what felt like an eternity. The whole day had just been too much, had overwhelmed me, the stallion's brutality, his sadism, his totally uninhibited lust... the demonstration he had given me, the pictures I had seen.. He had to be a demon, a demon of lust. And my master had given me to him, to do with as he pleased. And he had given me the task to fulfill all of Clyde's wishes, to serve him completely. That meant....

Slowly, I got up, balancing on my wobbly feetpaws for a moment, then walked through the door into the gym room, where my clothes still were strewn on the floor, spattered with cum, juices and blood. Like in a trance, I padded over to the camera, made sure it was still running, and adjusted it a bit, before I finally stepped up to the wall opposite, and spread my legs, my hands crossed above my head and propped against the wall.

"Sir... Clyde.... You have shown me the error of my ways, and I deeply regret my arrogance. You are, without a doubt, the most magnificent male I have ever met, your power and your virility are unmatched. You have demonstrated to me that I am not even close to being a match for your shaft, and that you deserve much, much more than you have taken from me so far. Please allow me to apologize for the fact that I cannot give myself to you fully, as you so rightfully deserve."

I heard him getting up at that point, the couches springs creaking, his hooves softly clopping on the carpet of his room.

"However, I would feel deeply ashamed if I were to leave now, without giving you at least some kind of thanks for the service you have provided so gracefully. I am deeply in your debt, and I would humbly ask you, beg you, to allow me to pay back a small part of it. Therefore, Sir, I pray that you are willing to accept the sacrifice of my inner maleness, that you feel inclined to apply your tool to me once more and to take your pleasure from erasing my ability to cum, forever. I do not ask you to be gentle with me, Sir, no. I would ask you to take no mercy with me, and to treat me like the scum I am . I beg you to not care when I howl in pain, or when I whimper for leniency, for I surely will, since I am weak of mind and body. I beg you to take me and to not stop until you are fully convinced that I know my place, once and for all. Please, Sir...Clyde... ?"

He was behind me now, I could feel the heat of his body on my back, and I could smell him, roiling waves of scent, musky, dark, excited and horny.

He didn't speak, but he did snort, and his breath was like steam on my ears.

"You know what?", he snorted, "I should crush you. You're no more than hoof polish to me, dog."

I shivered. I could see myself on the floor at that moment, with broken arms and legs, my innards spread out in a bloody fan between my legs.

"Yes, Sir. That's what you should do, and you're absolutely right, I am not worthy of what I am asking. I can just hope, Sir, that you have mercy with me, and let me perform this service for you."

"Shut up, dog." He said it almost gently, but then, he grabbed my hands and pulled them up over my head, kicking my legs apart at the same time. Then, he was inside me, no transition, no warning, just a single, brutal thrust, that filled me to my limits, and made the skin of my belly strain with the pressure from within. The angle was very awkward, his shaft being forced almost vertical by my position, the strong, solid core unwilling to follow the curve, bending me instead.

I gasped for air, but I almost welcomed the pain this time, he already had started to feel familiar, filling a void inside me I didn't know was there. It burned, and it stung, but he had fucked my resistance out of me before, and I was in the process of becoming a perfect cocksock for his mighty shaft.

"Gonna give you what you want, puppy," he growled, and withdrew himself slightly, lowering me a bit at the same time. "Gonna make you a true bitch."

He thrust again, and this time, his tip hammered into my prostate, straight on, and with his full weight behind it.

Stars appeared in front of my eyes as a lightning bolt of pain shot through me, gone as quick as it came, leaving the scent of ozone in my nose, and the shadow of something that was not quite pleasure behind.

I gasped for air, and howled, the sound mournful and lonely even to my own ears. Behind me, Clade snorted, and I felt the floor vibrate as he shifted his stance. And then.. He thrust again.

One thing I should have learned by now is that Clyde was unpredictable. No matter what I thought I knew about him, he never stopped to surprise me... and so it was again, in this very moment. The thrust was... gentle. He was just rolling his hips, moving his fence pole of a cock with almost loving precision, grinding the tip over my prostate, giving it the most intense and lustful massage I had ever experienced. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it exactly right.

Within moments, my sounds of pain and despair changed into moans of pleasure, and my body became limp in his grasp. He chuckled, and hoisted me up further along the wall, letting me hang from his oversized hand like a fish on a hook, all the while continuing his relentless, gentle fucking.

"Got the spot there, eh, puppy? Big stupid horse giving you what you need?"

He lowered his head further, and his breath once more whooshed over my ear.

"Told ya I'd fuck the snot right out of you...."

His free hand ran over the wet fur of my stomach, then found my sheath, and my own little cock that, under the massage, had fully emerged and by now, was dripping wet.

Now, when I say little, I meant in comparison to the monster Clyde was calling his own. In the more general way of things, I was a little over average for my body size, nothing to brag about, but certainly not nothing, and I had always been a little proud of what mother nature had gifted me with. Now, however, with my tormentor's fingers gliding over the wet, throbbing length, I somehow wished he had never shown interest in it.

He didn't comment, and he didn't continue with his fondling. Instead, he just held my sheath between two fingers while his hips did all the work, compressing and releasing my pleasure center, squeezing drop after drop of pre from me, pushing my level of lust and need higher and higher.

It didn't take long form me to start whining and my knot growing. The pressure inside my balls and inside my head seemed to grow steadily, but never quite enough to grant me release, my need to cum reaching torturous levels. My dick was throbbing, the knot so hard and big I feared the skin over it would burst any moment... and yet, instead of speeding up, Clyde was slowing down. I whined, I twisted, my legs kicked feebly against the wall, and were I a cat, I would have shredded the wallpaper under my fingers to ribbons... but, nothing helped. I was caught in on the brink of climax, with no way to proceed forward, nor with the possibility to cool off and get back to my senses.

"Say it...", Clyde's voice whispered in my ear, "Sayyy ittt.... You know you want to... just tell me...."

I knew exactly what he wanted me to do. I had no doubt whatsoever what I could say to end this, to get my release, and to finally, finally get out of the hands of this sadistic maniac... and at that moment? If he had asked me to cut off my own bals and eat them? I probably would have. So I forced my eyes closed, bit my tongue, and then, I sealed my fate.

"Pleeeeeease! Please, Sir, fuck me harder, I beg you, stop toying with me, make me a bitch, nullify me, but please... I need your strength, I need it now, I need... you... sir... to ... break me... please...I... I'm... yours."

"Good boy..."

His head lifted from my shoulder, I felt his chest expanding, and he gave a long, shrill nicker, before withdrawing from me until the rim of his tip threatened to disconnect from my broken ring.

Icy lust flooded me as his battering ram hammered into me, smacking into my prostate with the force of a boxing champion's fist. The momentum was enough to slap me against the wall, but I was beyond noticing. All that mattered right now was him, me, and my climax. Twice, thrice he hit me, and on the fourth thrust, I exploded, the jet of cum so powerful it shot over my head, splattering against his chest. If he took offense at that, he didn't show, instead, he growled, and redoubled his efforts, pounding me with the strength of a machine. I saw jet after jet of my essence splattering against the wall, the white liquid turning pink after the fourth shot, and red after the sixth, and yet, it didn't stop. He nailed me against that wall that afternoon, and with each reckless bucking of his hips, mylust faded, to be replaced by pain once more. My moans turned into screams about then, my lustful submission converting into panic once more, and my willful acceptance of my fate into the frenzied attempt to save my body.

But there was no escape. On the twentieth or twenty fifth thrust I felt something give, a deep, tearing sensation somewhere in my bowels, and on the next thrust, there was the feeling of what I can only describe as a pop, like a grape bursting under your naked paw. The pain must have come a millisecond later, but it felt much, much longer to me. That pop, I knew, was the end of my ability to function as a male, to gain an erection, or to cum... and to my ability to derive pleasure from being taken. It was gone, forever, and there was nothing anybody could to do give it back to me.

The pain was, indeed, the worst I had ever felt, and that included the proceedings of the afternoon with Clyde. Words fail to describe what raged through my body then and there, it was enough to make me heave dry, and it was enough to narrow my vision to pinpricks. I barely heard Clyde's whinny of triumph, noticed only distantly that he had bent his knees low to change the angle of attack and impale me on his murderous weapon once more, but I did feel the pulse of the shaft that ruled me, and I felt the warmth of Clyde's essence as he bred me, filled me with his juice hard enough to trigger cramps in my upper intestine. He let go of my wrists, and I slumped against the wall, my own bloody cum smearing into my fur. He held me upright by the hardness of his shaft alone, and pumped volley after volley of his cream into me, turning me into a condom, to be used once and then discarded.

And discard me he did. Once finished, he stepped back and unceremoniously let me slip from his softening tool. I lay there in a boneless heap, pinkish cum gushing from my ruined behind, and blood trickling from my now-soft sheath. He clopped away then, leaving me behind as he went to the bathroom, probably for another shower, and I heard him hum and sing under the running water. Around me, the lights seemed to dim and then wink out, one by one, as I found the strength to curl up into a ball before fading out into blissful, painless oblivion.

When I came to about half an hour later, I found out that he actually had taken the effort of cleaning me up and dressing me... well, he had put something onto me that looked like a loincloth. And I had something large and uncomfortably hard in my behind, which turned out to be a buttplug. He had placed me onto the couch in his room, while he had taken the chair at his desk, leaning back far and resting his hooves next to the keyboard.

"Welcome back, Timmy," he rumbled, after I made an inquisitive noise while waking up.

"I called your ... Master. He's gonna pick you up in about ten minutes."

He tossed a USB stick at me, and it bounced off my chest to land on the cushion I was curled up on.

"Give him that. The vid came out really nicely, both of them." He chuckled. "The little number we did under the shower isn't. Tough shit, but I'm not going to soak my cam for a runt like you."

I slowly managed to get up, and I picked up the USB drive, turning it in between my fingers.

The whole idea behind all of this had been for me to prove myself to my master, to accept punishment for the wrongs I did, and to get him to take me back. I was here, I was still alive, and with what was on this drive, I was absolutely convinced that my master would be impressed about my sincerity. But... I somehow didn't feel so sincere anymore.

A low chuckle tore me from my thoughts.

"What's the matter, puppy? Don't wanna go back home to the little guy who's your master? Wouldn't surprise me... he can't have one of these.." The stallion grinned at me, and cupped his sheath while he spoke, shaking it gently. "Or he wouldn't have needed a real stud to fuck you, am I right?"

The problem was, he was right. Master... had nothing compared to what Clyde had, and it had never been bothering me before. But now....

"Well, not my problem. You're gonna..."

He stopped as the doorbell rang.

"Yeah, that's him. Listen, mutt... " He got up, walked over to me and lifted me to my feet by my arm, dragging me towards the stairs. "If you gonna get tired of the guy, and get any crazy ideas of coming to me again... You know what's gonna happen. Right?"

I nodded. I knew. And I let myself being dragged to the door, and then limped towards the waiting car.

I knew that if I ever let Clyde fuck me again, he would not stop. Not until he had taken all of me... and somehow, that prospect didn't feel so bad anymore.

The end