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If you liked this one, you might want to check out Trailblazing For Three, another story centering on the Courier's Guild...

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“So, why the Couriers' Guild?" the woman seated opposite Gwendolyn asked. A simple enough question to put before an aspirant, but one that still caught the younger of the two females by surprise.

“Well I…" she began, trailing off a little as she tried to rally her thoughts.

Diane, the woman who'd be deciding whether or not to accept her into the guild was seated patiently, but there was something expectant about her look that told her this was not an idle inquiry. An answer was expected, and it would need to be a good one. But does it have to be an honest one? Gwen wondered to herself. Nobody knew her in the city, this was the chance to start a new life, to be a new person. Did she really need to let this woman know anything about the life she'd hoped to leave behind?

Even though she remained mute, Gwen was sure her anxious, mousey posture would be speaking volumes to those deep brown eyes focused on her. She knew she should lift her gaze and meet Diane's but she was worried about looking at her the wrong way. She was dressed quite plainly for a guildmistress, a position of no small prestige despite the reputation this particular organization enjoyed. Diane's thick bronzy hair was gathered in one braid draped across her right shoulder, and combined with the white linen dress belted with a red sash at her waist gave an impression of a country girl ready to go out into the fields on a warm day. Except that no mother would let her girl go out in a dress with a hemline so high and a neckline so low!

Gwendolyn had only reached her twentieth year a few months ago, and guessed the confident woman still patiently waiting for a reply to be about ten years her elder, which only made her appearance more peculiar. And while even in her village plenty of women managed to hold on to their beauty at Diane's age, it was without exception a more matronly sort of allure. She could almost hear the hushed gossip of the womenfolk from her home – thirty summers and still trying to look like a girl? What's wrong with her!?

She overheard (sometimes by accident and sometimes by cunning) similar things whispered about her, but admittedly in a kinder tone by the more mature women of the village. They saw nothing wrong with the red-headed girl that had grown into a fine young woman, and were sure no young man did either. It had been a few birthdays ago that the women her mother's age had been telling her what a fine young lady the freckle-faced little girl had turned into, and assured her she was sure to get any young lad she set those pretty green eyes on.

Then another birthday went on without any courtship, but they still didn't think much of it. 'Smart girl that one. No good rushing into something so important.' they'd say when she was around to hear, but those same women soon began introducing her to various young men – sons, nephews… The meetings were awkward, but still the matchmakers were undeterred. Of course young Gwendolyn was shy, but after all what maiden wouldn't be? And just because she's come of age doesn't mean she should be winking at boys and lifting her skirt now does it? She'll be right as rain when she meets the right man, they figured, so they continued the less-than-subtle parade of possible suitors.

But it was what she overheard from the women her age that had prompted Gwen to abandon everything and try to make a clean start. She knew, or at least suspected she was different for years now. When she and her friends reached that age when girls started looking at boys (and boys for their part started staring at girls), her eyes were never drawn to the young males who could make the other budding ladies turn red-faced by their presence alone. Instead of noticing the young men, she'd noticed that girls look quite pretty when they blush. Thoughts like that were what made everything turn a little… strange. The young women could look at each other, and wouldn't hesitate to complement one of their friends on her hair, her dress, or even the way she was filling out, and every time these remarks would be gratefully accepted, usually with a kind word said in return.

And Gwendolyn had tried, very hard to sound like the other girls did when she complemented a friend or acquaintance on her appearance, but somehow it was all wrong, and the other girl could always tell. There would be a brief, awkward moment of confusion before she got an even more awkward 'thank you', with the recipient of the compliment always remembering some urgent chore that needed her attention. She wondered if they could tell that her remarks were closer to the clumsy compliment a boy might offer them.

But those were always accepted with a demure smile and a maidenly blush, and when the girl in question did remember 'urgent businesses' it would invariably take her to the nearest gaggle with all haste, where the news was sure to spark eager chatter and where the young woman would be bombarded with envy-tinged congratulations and questionable advice on how to handle or even arrange the next encounter. But her attempts only caused the other girls of the village to grow more awkward around her.

And many of those young girls were married now, with others either being courted or already betrothed. As more of them became wives and mothers they would be brought into the circle of the older women, and the two streams of gossip concerning Gwendolyn would cross and… Well, better she was away when that happened. And if she was to be the subject of rumor, why not the Courier's Guild? This woman in front of her didn't mind what people said. She looked confident, fully in control of a life she enjoyed. Why the Guild? Because I want to be like you! She thought, knowing that it was the honest answer. But she still didn't really feel brave enough to be honest, so…

“Well I… I heard that it was… that the Courier's Guild was always took in women who don't really… fit in anywhere else." she finally said, wondering if she'd been subtle enough to avoid the truth.

Well, if she was to be the subject of rumor and gossip, she might as well join the women who were the epicenter. The Guild was talked about in hushed disapproving tones by women and men (at least while within earshot of women), but everyone agreed they do important work. If you needed their services you paid them good money, rumor or no, and were grateful there was anyone around bold enough to do the job.

“Well, that's true. But we do very vital work. More to the point – work that no one else dares to do. I don't want to scare you off, but it would also be wrong of me not to point out the danger inherit in this job. Humanity has scattered far and wide across a land filled with things that don't consider us the top of the food- chain. Goods and people can move across these expanses, but only in heavily-armed caravans. Those are costly, but more to the point slow. Too slow to carry messages. To get there in a reasonable amount of time there's no alternative to a courier on horseback. You know how we accomplish that?"

“The steeds, right?" Gwen asked. Many of the details of just how the guild operated was a mystery if not an outright secret, but the mounts the messenger's rode weren't. At first glance they were identical to a common horse, albeit a well-cared one with an immaculate pedigree. But you could catch the glimmer of an intellect as keen as a humans if you looked a little longer into their eyes, and that was even before being addressed by one.

They didn't really talk since their speech apparatus wasn't any more suited to human language than a regular horse's, but from what Gwendolyn had heard they could make words form in your mind and it would seem no different if they'd come into it via the ears. Of course they rarely spoke to anyone apart from the women of the Guild.

And that of course was another matter. While both mares and stallions carried riders, the couriers themselves were exclusively female humans. This has unsurprisingly led to a very specific kind of gossip. After a few drinks men (safely out of earshot of their wives) would talk about women so wanton that 'nothing but a stallion would do', and the speculation on how such a coupling could work would soon get quite graphic. The wives of these men were far too polite to go into such lewd detail even when not in mixed company, but they shared the disdain their menfolk held towards these women. Quite a few times Gwen had heard one of them say something along the lines of 'Better my daughter marry a pauper or a cripple than become a Courier!'.

“Well, that's a good start." Diane said, smiling a little in the obvious hopes of putting the girl who was now both anxious and scared at ease. “A lot of people make the mistake of calling them horses, which is especially bad if they happen to hear you say it…"

“Oh, good. So they can understand people when they talk?"

“Perfectly. They'd have to since they can't really read minds. And they even have keener ears than we do, but a fairly limited vocal range compared to us humans. I dare say I could let out a neigh that would be more passable than a steed trying to pronounce even a single word. But they can project words in a way that we can 'hear'. It takes a bit of effort if the person isn't attuned to it. That means us couriers and any other adept."

“Adept?"

“Yes, the steeds and we couriers are the best known example, but in the cities you'll probably have a chance to meet other creatures who have the same ability, most of whom form a bond with the humans they work with."

“I see." Gwen said, feeling a bit like a rube for not knowing about any living beings that could touch upon a person's mind apart from the steeds and the many dangerous predators that used their powers to hunt… well, pretty much anything.

Although the woman interviewing her didn't seem particularly urban with her simple dress and the coppery tone to her skin that suggested long hours spent outside, she'd been a courier for years. Diane had traveled far and wide, to places Gwen had only ever heard of and no doubt plenty she didn't even know existed. Even the subtle equine smell clinging to her couldn't shake her image as a confident woman-of-the-world, but then again the musk didn't have the sort of… pungency that one tended to associate with barns and stables.

“It will take you a little while but most people can attune themselves to mind-speak. Some humans can even 'speak' that way, but most of the time it's easier for us to just use our voices. The more attuned you are, the easier it is for a steed to speak to you. And of course when you bond it becomes effortless."

“Uh… bond?"

“Yes. After your training's done you'll be partnered with your steed. They can carry any human, of course, but you can only go on what we call the Long Ride with a stallion or mare you're bonded with."

“I see. How does it… I mean the bonding happen?" she said, wringing her skirt as she suddenly felt a little over her head. She had no idea what bonding was, what exactly was expected of her, and the rumors she'd heard were rushing in to fill in the gaps of her ignorance.

“Over time. Or miles, depending on how you look at it. Don't worry, I've got a good feel for personalities. I'll make you a good match."

“So… you'll take me?"

“Yes, I think you'll fit in here. For starters let's get you settled in, and once you've had a good night's sleep we'll start your training…"

*******

“Gwendolyn, this is Artus. I'm not sure if you've had a chance to see him 'round, he just came here from our stables at Tevermere. Some new blood for us and a trusty steed for you…" Diane said, but the moment the young stallion came into view Gwen knew she hadn't seen him. She would have remembered if she had!

Like the other steeds Artus had the build of a thoroughbred, and the pristine white coat covering him meant the young woman could see the twitch and flex of every muscle under it as he walked alongside Diane. The mane falling along one side of his long neck was meticulously brushed, and when he swished his tail it looked like the white smoke you saw just before kindling caught flame. Something about his posture gave the impression that he knew full well how breathtaking he looked, and the dark-grey of his muzzle looked like stubble, completing the image of charming rogue strutting brazenly under a chaste white coat.

“Oh… are you my rider?" he said, the words sounding off in Gwen's head with a tone that matched the proud beast in front of her, and the somewhat sour tone that matched the way he was sizing her up and down.

“Yes I'm Gwendolyn… or Gwen's fine. It's a pleasure to… I'm sorry, if everything all right?" she asked, trying to sound polite and casual despite the fact that the way the stallion was still examining her instead of meeting her gaze struck her as somewhat rude.

“No, no, it's just that… Well when I heard that my rider would be a girl from one of the nearby villages I assumed you'd be a little more… robust?" he ventured, and Gwendolyn actually found herself looking down at her own body before raising her head to stare down what she now suspected was a genuinely rude stallion.

Of all the frustrations life had presented her with, the only problem Gwendolyn had ever had with her body was that it gotten her too much unwanted masculine attention while failing to attract other females. Her fair and lightly freckled skin covered a willowy, nubile figure, and despite the fact that the alluring body had only ever felt her own caress, she had little doubt that she'd left the gangly figure of her adolescence behind and that she could never again be confused with a boy.

“Robust?" she asked, trying to keep her tone civil.

“You know – a bit closer to a mare than a filly?" the snowy stallion replied. If he did detect the tension in Gwen's voice, he was pointedly ignoring it.

“Well, maybe I'll fill out after my first foal!" she tossed back, but Artus merely nickered in a way that seemed suspiciously like an equine chortle.

Shocked by the fact that a creature that looked so noble and charming could have such an abrasive personality, Gwendolyn turned to face Diane, but the guildmistress had a little smile on her face that dampened any hopes the young woman had of her stepping in to mediate, if not outright reprimand the rude stallion standing in front of her. Her first and so far only real interaction with a steed had been Diane's own bonded mount, but Contessa had been Artus' opposite in more ways than merely her sex.

The mare helped train new recruits, both in getting attuned to communication with sentient equines, and sharpening up their riding skills. The palomino mare was a patient teacher, the voice she projected sounding in Gwen's head as a rich, soothing tone tinged with an almost maternal affection. She always made sure to complement Gwen on her progress and displayed an almost saintly patience whenever her human charge was having a tough time with a lesson. She would have been thrilled with a mount that was anything like Contessa, and after remembering Diane's boast that she had a knack for matching up personalities she wondered what the woman must think of her if she thought that this was her ideal match. She wondered if the more experienced courier could touch upon her thoughts, or if they were just written clearly enough on her face for her to read them.

“Sometimes the best way of getting two stones to fit together is to knock and grind them against each other, which is kinda what the road is going to do to you two. Don't worry, you'll smooth things out after your first long ride."

“What's there to smooth out?" she heard Artus ask both of them, and realized that the stallion genuinely had no idea what kind of first impression he'd just made. He really doesn't think he can do anything wrong, does he?

“Well, our bags are packed, so I guess we just pick a saddle and ride out?" she ventured, trying to stay positive about this.

“Oh, no need to bother with that…"

“I see. So you've already picked one?" she asked, forcing a smile as she spoke through her teeth. Diane told her that it was a custom for the rider and mount to pick a saddle together before riding out. It was a nice little tradition that served to break the ice, so it made sense that the cock-sure thoroughbred in front of her would find some way of messing it up.

“No, I mean I won't be wearing one…" he replied nonchalantly.

“What?" Gwen asked, feeling a little too tetchy for an 'I beg your pardon?'. The sentient steeds didn't wear a bit and bridle, of course, but as far as she knew none of them minded a saddle. She remembered Contessa had a particularly beautiful one with a pattern of birds and flowering branches worked into the leather.

“Like I said – I don't wear a saddle. Look, the only reason for sitting in one would be if you were on a feral horse, because they might get spooked or just irate and throw the rider off. But you will be riding on a trained, professional steed, so I'll make sure you're nice and safe no matter your riding skills. So why bother lugging around a useless hunk of leather? It's just gonna slow us down. Speaking of which, isn't it time we got going? C'mon, get my saddlebags on, climb up, and I'll take it from there…" he said, and Gwendolyn did as she was told, all the while taking deep breaths and counting silently to ten…

*******

It was her first night on the road, and after a whole day spent in… well no, thanks to her steed she hadn't spent it in the saddle, but rather on a folded horse blanket she'd insisted on. Some sense of modesty demanded a barrier between her steed's back and a rather private part of her body. But she had to admit that cocky as Artus might be, he hadn't been bragging. She still wasn't a particularly skilled rider, but the alabaster equine had a long, even stride and after the first hour she'd started to feel fairly comfortable riding him. Which didn't stop her from keeping a good grip on a few fistfuls of his flowing mane, figuring that if she did fall it should be painful for both of them.

It had been that tenuous moment when true, deep sleep was only moments away, and usually the moment when one's ears manage to catch something that stirs the mind awake. For Gwendolyn it had been a slapping noise, one that she could have ignored if another hadn't followed it. She wasn't sure what it could be, but it was rhythmic. Was something approaching them in the dead of night and making that strange sound as it advanced? She didn't really know, but in her groggy state her mind was filled with the stories of various beasts that wandered the wilderness, and those served to chase the last of the sleepiness from her.

She could see by the flames still licking along the firewood that she hadn't been half-asleep for long. Her first real ride had taken a lot out of her, and even as she began to rise her body protested, aching muscles cramping and seemingly trying to drag her back down to her bedroll. Her first thought was of Artus, but the stallion's white form would have been easy to pick out even if the fire had gone out. He'd moved away from the warmth and glow it offered, but still seemed to be in the ring of 'scentries' – the little patches of some astringent chemical that would serve to keep them protected while they slept. To Gwen, it looked like Artus was facing out and trying to scan the open terrain barely lit by dim moonlight.

“See anything?" she said, her tone soft but still apparently enough to startle the equine craning his long neck to get a look at her.

“Huh? No I… sorry if I woke you…"

“You didn't wake me. It was that… what is that?" she said referring to a steady slapping that seemed louder now.

“What do you mean? You've never seen one before?" the stallion asked, the confusion clear in the voice projecting clearly into Gwen's mind, despite that fact that it still wasn't really working at full speed.

“Seen what? I can barely see anything at all. I mean that sound. The sort of a meaty, slap, slap, sla…" she went on until she did manage to catch a glimpse of movement. Just a second before another slap sounded. Her hand flew to her mouth and she was sure her freckled cheeks were nearly glowing.

“You see, this is the sort of thing you have to resort to when you don't have those nimble human hands…" the stallion said, the words registering in some part of Gwen's mind that wasn't dwelling on the sight of the equine appendage flexing under the white belly, the tip flaring before it once again relaxed and dropped down.

“You mean you're…?"

“Helps me get a good night's sleep. Don't tell me you've never…"

“No! I mean of course I… that's not the point. Look, I'm sorry for interrupting you but…" she broke off mid-sentence once another heavy slap rang out just under the stallion. “Wait, you're still doing it? With me standing right here?"

“Well for one, I'm not making you stand right there. And two, this takes a lot of effort when you can't touch yourself, and if I stopped now I'd have to start all over again…" he said, and Gwendolyn could see his point even if it wasn't his point she was looking at.

The casual, shameless way he was doing it shouldn't have come as such a surprise, since she wasn't sure Artus could feel shame, but the sight of the equine shaft striking his barrel chest was making it hard for her to look at anything else. Or even breathe. She wasn't sure why she was reacting this way. She'd seen animals mate before and had even caught sight of a donkey fully erect before he'd mounted his jill, but that was just animals doing what came natural. There was something different about the brazen way this intelligent (if not quite civilized) equine was blatantly pleasuring himself with her standing right there. Well he's right – why are you?

“A-all right. I'll just leave you to it… I mean leave you alone. S-sorry…"

“I appreciate it…" the steed replied, once again facing forward as the blushing young woman made her way back to the fireside.

She curled up on her blanket and tied to get back to sleep, but the sounds had been enough to wake her even before she'd known what they were. Nobody could fall asleep with their heart racing the way hers was. And just why was that? The stallion had been right – it wasn't her first time seeing one of those. On several occasions a few of her friends had gone sneaking through the bushes that grew by the riverbank, usually during those time they knew there would be young men there looking to escape the summer heat in the cool water.

The first time she'd gone she'd wanted to make sure. She knew that she didn't find clothed men attractive, but maybe the sight of the newly-grown men with nothing on would stir her interest. They hadn't, as it happened, and she'd wound up more turned on by the sight of the blushing girls kneeling beside her and reacting in a very obvious way to the young men of their village in all their glory. She'd gone a few more times in the hopes of keeping up appearances, but after a while she'd given up on that.

Slap.

This was ridiculous! Embarrassment was one thing, but she knew that it was no longer the reason her face was glowing as much as the pit full of embers a few feet away from her. She'd recognized the moment her love-starved body reacted this way but still had no idea why it had done so at the sight of a male. A very definite male!

Slap.

The sound only made it harder for her to dispel the sight of the shaft from her mind. Granted the fleshy rod was either a very dark gray or an inky black, given the dark patch on Artus' muzzle, and she certainly hadn't managed to see it in great detail. But she'd smelled it, a sharp, masculine musk that still had her nostrils flaring as if to catch it wafting above the smell of woodsmoke. And she'd heard it…

Slap.

No, she was still hearing it. Listening for it! The sound was so lewd now that she knew what it was – that dark spire of equine flesh flexing with enough force to smack against the stark-white underside of the stallion, the tip mushrooming up as he held it rigid until he relaxed and the entire length lewdly dropped down, swinging between his haunches until the whole thing repeated. Could he really… that is to say, he seemed to have done it before… Could doing that be enough to really make him…?

Slap.

Well, he seemed determined to try. And there was no hope of getting any sleep with that noise anyway. So Gwen didn't really feel like she was listening in on him. She was merely waiting for him to finish so she could... so both of them could get some much needed rest. And what was going through his mind while he was doing that? Was it Contessa? Even to her the mare had looked like a magnificent creature, and with her kind yet undeniably feminine nature she had little doubt that she could have stirred a healthy young stallion to thoughts of lust. It couldn't have been me, could it?

Slap.

Try as she might, Gwen couldn't get her heart to slow down and her breathing to ease up. There was no hope of getting back to sleep until those noises stopped. She'd like to think it was just annoyance, but she knew it wasn't annoyance that had her heart beating and her ears perked for the next meaty impact. It was all she could do not to squirm as the anticipation built, her mouth dry as she quietly panted. She almost felt like it was her climax she was waiting for, and not that of the randy stallion seeing to his needs just outside the circle of firelight.

There were a few more slaps before her ears caught a deep but she guessed still muffled rumble. She at least kept her eyes closed, resisting the temptation to crane her neck and get a look at what she knew was happening. She could hear the stallion's heavy breathing as he stepped closer and settled down, and she tried not to imagine what would be swinging between his legs with every clop of his hooves. She had little doubt she'd be seeing it once she managed to get to sleep, but in the morning she could pretend she didn't remember those dreams and try to get back to sanity.

*******

“So, what does yours look like?" The question was a mere idle curiosity, but as they drifted along the road Gwendolyn had allowed her mind to do the same, and the sudden inquiry seemed scandalous, given the event of last night.

“I'm sorry?" she said, amazed that the rude beast carrying her would break the silence by asking about that!

“Your Corridor. What did you chose?" the white steed clarified, and with a blush she was glad he couldn't see the young woman realized it was her who was having less than pure thoughts.

“Oh. Arched trellises."

“What's growing along them?" the steed asked as if there were any trellises to see, because he knew it would help.

“Roses, pink ones. There was one like it back in my village…" she said, sounding almost wistful. She'd always loved the flowery doorway that was the pride of her home's shrine, with many important ceremonies taking place under it, weddings included. She'd often fantasized about standing at one side of it and facing her husband-to be back when she was still little and was sure she'd grow to like boys at some point before she became a woman…

Well, we're passing under one now. And another soon enough… she thought, seeing the frame of roses in full bloom despite the fact she knew it wasn't there, just like the ones lining the road in front of them, each one spaced about sixty feet from the other. She could have chosen anything while she was learning how to visualize the Corridor and Diane had given her plenty of examples – simple rock formations, grapevines grown wild and entangled, giant picture-frames, two fountains on either side spraying water in an arc. The important thing was a doorway-like shape and a regular distance between them. It couldn't be something like a tunnel because the mind would reject it, since the eyes would still see beyond any conjured walls. But the Corridor was a lie the psyche could deal with…

It was still hard to believe that it was what was keeping them safe. She knew it was mostly Artus' doing, but this was one of the reason the steeds couldn't do this job alone – it took two minds working in tandem to maintain this Corridor, a safe path that would ensure their minds were hidden form predators who could sense thought as keenly as a wolf could catch his quarry's scent. And the prey of these beasts were almost exclusively sentient creatures. It had seemed absurd at first – imagining these things along the path, but after training and guided hypnotism she'd gotten the hang of it. If she thought the right way, her eyes told her there were roses all along this road, even though her mind and nose knew it was a lie.

“Pretty…"

“And yours are better?" she asked, daring the stallion to come up with something better.

“You could say that. It's an archway."

“A what?"

“An archway. It's what they call a lot of arches all lined up, so that there's a way passing under them."

“Oh. So just stone arches? Sounds a bit boring…" she said, trying not to sound too satisfied at having come up with a better idea for her Corridor.

“No, not 'just' stone arches. They're carefully carved with intricate patterns. Quite a sight…"

“And where did you see such a sight?"

“The stables at Tevermere, where I was born." He replied, and Gwen found herself short of words at the reminder that while she was somewhat of a rube, her mount was a refined city-dweller. She almost challenged his claim that a stable could be so majestic, but then she remembered that it wasn't a stable for horses. Steeds like Artus were noble creatures and in great demand. It made sense that they lived in splendor.

“Well, that does sound… pretty…" she replied tossing the same word the steed had used to describe her roses.

“It is, but I only realized it once I left. Tevermere's practically infested with artsy types – artists, artisans…"

“…Artuses?" Gwen asked, with the stallion under her offering no more than a flick of his ears in acknowledgement of the remark.

“…and I guess at some point someone figured out that they would soon run out of places to keep all the paintings and sculptures and whatnot, so they put the artists to working on the actual places. So the city wound up covered in carvings, murals, mosaics…"

“Sounds beautiful…" Gwen mused. The city they'd set of from had seemed grand to her, but she'd learned Learton served mostly as a large trade hub – bustling, but without any grand history behind it. She couldn't even imagine a city where buildings had been turned into works of art. “Wish I could see it…"

“You probably will at some point. But it's a tricky route, so they won't give it to us until we can prove we can handle ourselves." He said. It wasn't really meant as a reminder of the danger they were in, but it still served as one, making Gwen focus just a little harder on the rose-bedecked road ahead…

*******

Gwendolyn had hoped for a night spent dreaming about anything other than what her mind had conjured up as it sunk into slumber. The scene from the night before, replayed in lurid detail, with her imagination compensating for anything she didn't get a good look at. A powerful pale form, reflecting every bit of moonlight shining from the night sky, and providing a perfect contrast to the inky blackness that was the focus of her attention.

She wasn't sure if she was really there in her dream, watching the stallion flex his shaft over and over. If she was she wasn't saying anything, or doing anything, and there was nothing to the all-to-real scene apart from Artus. The black rod dangling between his legs, swinging back and forth every time he relaxed it, only to spring back up with startling force, slapping against the barrel-chest of the thoroughbred steed with that meaty smack. So real I can almost hear it… the dream-Gwen thought to herself, as the equine member fell, swinging once, twice and then…

Slap!

Her eyes shot open and she wondered if she really was awake. That last one had sounded so real, and the groggy woman spent a few seconds wondering if this was in fact the waking world when she heard the slap again. It was real, and he was doing it! Again! She sat up and looked at the fire which was now just a few flames idly dancing up and down smouldering branches. She hadn't been asleep for all that long which meant…

Slap!

Gods above, is it louder this time or am I just losing my mind? she thought to herself as more and more of the fleshy smacks filled the night air. She knew what it was. The sensible thing would be to lie back down and try to get some rest. And if I did manage to fall asleep, I'd be having less than restful dreams with him doing that! It was with an indignant huff that Gwendolyn threw her blanket aside, but much of her indignation had evaporated as she left the campfire and the smell of burning wood was replaced by the scent of an altogether different sort of heat.

“Didn't expect to see you here again…" the stallion sounded off in her head, not even bothering to stop what he was doing.

“And you expect me to sleep through… that?" Gwen replied testily, part of her still protesting what she'd made her mind up to do. “Come on, get over here…"

“What?" Artus asked, the flick of his ears betraying his confusion.

“I said come over here! It's going to take you ages to do this yourself, and I'm not going to get a wink of sleep until you're done, so I might as well help you …finish sooner. And I'd like to see what I'm doing, so will you please come closer to the fire?" she finished, aware that her little speech didn't make her winded enough to make her chest rise and fall the way it was doing.

“Well… fine then." The stallion replied, his tone making it clear to Gwen that he was taken by surprise by her proposal. She did her best to keep the smile off her face at the thought that for once she was the one making the cocky equine feel uncomfortable.

He'd stopped what he'd been doing as he followed Gwen to the campfire, and the young woman could well imagine the thick, inky length swinging between his legs with every step. This still seemed crazy to her but having gone this far she had no choice. She knew full well that if she showed any hesitation at this point, her faithful steed would never let her live it down.

“You keeping your clothes on? Because it might get messy when I… you know…" the stallion said, and Gwen honestly wondered if he was genuinely concerned for her wardrobe or if he was eager to see her naked.

“Oh, and you dousing my naked skin would be an improvement? Not to mention my hair?" she asked, hoping that the warm glow of the dying fire would hide the red rising to her cheeks as her mind conjured up the image of her wearing nothing but Artus' seed. Out of curiosity, she tried to imagine herself on her knees before a man and ending up the same way, and she immediately felt her own flames dampen at the thought. So nothing's changed. I'm still the same messed-up Gwendolyn I always was. So why this one of all males? “The last stream we saw is now an hour's ride behind us, and that's by daylight and with both of us rested enough to keep up the Corridor. So you're going to let me know when you're about to… finish and I'll safely point that thing at the ground."

“All right, but I'm pretty sure you'll be able to notice when I'm about to 'finish'…" the steed replied, once again in his cocky tones.

“Oh yes, I can already imagine you going 'Oh my, I can't believe you didn't spot that, it was so obvious I was about to…'"

“You can imagine me going 'Oh my!'?" the stallion interrupted.

“A clear, unambiguous warning, understand?"

“Fine. I place myself in your experienced hands…"

“I… for your information, I've never even…" she began indignantly, realizing all too late what sort of fun the insufferable equine would have with what she'd just told him.

“What, never even… at your age?" the alabaster steed said, and this time Gwen was sure the glow of the fire wouldn't hide the reddening of her face. Or the twitch of her right eyebrow.

“Do you think it's a good idea to get me this angry just before I'm about to… get my hands on your pride and joy?" she said, finally managing to say out loud what they both knew she was about to do.

“Well, it's kind of a compliment when you think about it. It would have come as less of a surprise if you didn't look like you could attract a male. And in the interest of full disclosure, I've never mated with a mare in heat…" he said, and despite the fact that Gwen couldn't help but hear it as a boast, his tone sounded like he'd actually been divulging something personal.

“All right then. Apology accepted." She said, although she wasn't sure if the stallion had actually ever said he was sorry. Probably the best I'm gonna get from him. “Here it goes…"

Gwendolyn took a deep breath before kneeling down, which she guessed had been a good call. If she'd taken that deep breath after, she would have been hit with the full force of the stallion's musk. She'd found out that the steeds of the guild had quite a pleasant scent compared to feral equines, but then again their standards of cleanliness were as high as any humans.

But the scent that hit her when she got close to the heavy length of hanging under Artus was enough to make her head swim. It was wild, sharp and masculine in a way she couldn't quite explain. Nor could she explain why it was having this sort of effect on her. This was meant to be strictly practical – they both needed rest in order to stay safe on the road where danger was the only thing they were likely to encounter. So why was her breath quickening at the sight of someone who - especially from this vantage point – couldn't be mistaken for anything other than a male?

Well, he is beautiful… she thought to herself, a grudging admission given the steed's abrasive character. And 'beautiful' seemed more fitting than 'handsome'. His form was majestic – the sleek runner's frame nevertheless packed with the powerful muscles of a stallion in his prime, all of it carried with the graceful posture that made a sentient steed easy to tell apart from a horse. And all of that was covered in a pristine white coat that even two days of riding hadn't marred, although much of that was due to Gwen's diligent work with the brush.

And even the part that wasn't covered in the alabaster fur was strangely pleasing to the young woman's eye. She'd never been this close to a man's member, but her occasional glances at them had never stirred in her a desire to get any closer than a bush full of softly giggling girls. Granted, a human male would have looked freakish if his manhood was even half the size of what Artus had, but there was more to it than size alone.

The dark shaft seemed to drink in what little light there was, but the side of it that faced the campfire reflected just enough of the warm glow, while the other one looked monochrome in the silvery moonlight. Her hands were actually trembling as she reached out towards it, remembering to be gentle as she touched the length of stallion-flesh. As intimidating as it looked, it would be quite sensitive, a guess confirmed by the soft nicker the male above her let out as she laid her hands on his pride and joy.

“W-was that too rough?" she asked, trying to steady her breathing. The nights were chilly enough that she wore the clothes she rode in to bed, and she could feel her chest straining a little against the few buttons of her blouse she hadn't undone. I'm exhausted she thought, knowing that she really was. So why is my heart racing?

“No, it's just… never felt hands down there before…" the stallion replied, the strained voice she picked up in her mind doing little to help her calm down.

“All right, I'll just… look, remember the deal – I want fair warning before you… before anything happens…" she replied, finding it hard to form coherent sentences now that the ebony length in her hands was firming up.

It was obviously sensitive, since she could see various little muscles along Artus' pale body twitch in response to the movement of her hands over the silky skin covering it. But it was hard to imagine it being sensitive considering not only the size, but the hardness and the heat of the cannon-like appendage. The sheer girth meant she wasn't really sure how to grip the thing, or what to do with it. She tried wrapping both her hands around it, keeping the tip pointed at her face as she stroked up and down, which Artus seemed to enjoy but which Gwen recognized as a bad idea the moment a squirt of his juices struck her in the face. Well I did ask for that one… she thought to herself as she wiped her face with a sleeve.

“That's good… you can grip it a little harder…" the voice came into her head, and the tone the words were spoken in combined with the noises coming from the massive chest above her was making it hard for her to keep imagining that what she was doing wasn't really sexual. And her own labored breathing was making it hard for her to convince herself that she wasn't getting turned on by this.

Her hands tightened around the black shaft, and she had just enough sense to aim the tip to one side as the next squirt shot out from the little hole in the trumpet-like tip. The meaty rod seemed to respond to her grip, flexing until it went from firm to hard and unyielding. One could have called it steely, but then again steel didn't throb. She could feel the stallion's powerful heart beating as she did her best to stroke the massive length. Her eyes remained glued to it and she kept noticing new things about it. The network of veins running along the stallion's shaft, the thick ridge further along that marked the point where the already girthy appendage became even thicker. She doubted she could have even wrapped her hands around the part where the impressive length emerged from its sheath, and behind that…

Gwendolyn's eyes went wide at the sight of the heavy-looking pouch that she'd been careful not to look at ever since she'd met Artus, out of a common courtesy. Now she doubted anything could pry her eyes away from it and was grateful for the fact that from his vantage point the huffing equine couldn't tell what she was staring at.

“Hang on, I'm going to try something. Just… brace yourself…"

“Brace for wha…" Gwen began to ask, snapped out of her daze by Artus' words and caught completely unprepared for what the stallion had in mind.

She could see those powerful hind legs shift, the muscles clearly outlined under the white coat as the haunches lowered a little, just before the first thrust. Despite the warning Gwendolyn had to hold on to the stallion's spire just to keep from being knocked down on to the ground. She'd barely managed to recover her balance when the stud above her thrust again, the sight of his powerful haunches tensing serving to give her an idea of just how much force was behind each buck of his hips.

She could hear rumbling from the massive chest above her head, noises that had been notably absent while the stallion had practiced his peculiar form of self-satisfaction. But then he wasn't really doing it himself this time. He's rutting… Gwen thought, a ridiculously obvious observation considering her vantage point. But it was apt- despite the fact that he was thrusting into her grip rather than a mare, there was no mistaking these thrusts for what they were.

The mushroom-like tip was growing, leaking so much now that the mess had run down the shaft, making the black length slick as Gwen's hands clung to it. As she watched the throbbing, glistening spire she felt familiar feelings rise despite the unfamiliar circumstances. Perhaps it was the sheer awe of the masculinity in her hands, or the musk that she was drawing in with every breath she took. She'd been eager to just get this over with at first, but now she knew she was just eager to see what it would be like when the grunting stallion reached his peek.

Her eyes wandered once again to the heavy sack now swinging wildly, her breath nearly catching in her throat at the sight of the two swollen ovals as they rose up, slowly pulling up along the thrusting stud's body just as the tip began to flare. Her eyes seemed to open wider as the glans swelled with every buck of Artus' hips a little tube catching her attention as it jutted out from the now massive tip.

Her breath caught in her throat when she both felt and saw the underside of the mighty organ swell up, an errant bit of sensibility urging her to point the tip well away just in time. The throbbing length was dark, but the stud's seed was a white streak glinting in the firelight as it flew ribbon-like through the air.

Gwen found herself holding her breath, transfixed by the sight of the equine cannon sending rope after milky rope flying just to the left of her face, biting her lip at the thought of what she would have looked like if she hadn't had the foresight to keep the thing aimed away from her. After a while the jets of equine seed slowed to a dribble, and the young woman was surprised when she caught herself running her hands up and down the slowly softening length, as if trying to milk the last of the pearly-white goo from the stallion's ebony shaft.

“I thought we'd agreed on a warning…" she said as she rose, hoping that the fact she was having trouble getting her breath back would come off as physical exertion.

“Sorry I… it kinda snuck up on me. But you seem to have gotten the signal anyway. Thanks, by the way. That felt a lot better than just doing it myself." He said, and Gwen tried to clear her mind of the image of the stud's muscular hindquarters as he thrust into her grip with such bestial force.

“You're welcome, I guess. Now let's try and get some rest…" she said, knowing full well that she'd have to see to her own needs before she had any hope of falling asleep, and hoping that the stallion would be sufficiently spent to doze off quickly, and not overhear where those skill fingers of hers were going to get to work next.

*******

“Why are you looking at me like that?"

“Just counting the freckles?" Artus replied, making Gwen's hands rise half-way to her bared chest before she caught herself.

“I seem to remember asking you if you were really serious when you first got the idea for this little… break." She said, a bit testy about the way the cocky stallion had teased her, but unable to hide the fact that being naked in front of the powerful steed in the little shady grove was arousing her more than she'd thought it would.

“I'm enjoying the view. Can you blame me?"

“I can see you're enjoying it…" Gwen remarked, casting a quick glance at the tumescent black length between the stud's hind legs. “I'm still not sure why though. I mean, I don't look much like a mare…"

“Well, you seem to get excited by the sight of me, and I don't look much like a man…"

“I get excited by you because you don't look like a man…" she said, and only when the words are out did she realize she'd just given voice to her big secret. Well, no point in keeping it anymore… “Up until… last night… I've never been aroused by a male. Didn't think I could be. I don't suppose you could keep that from going to your ego?"

“Well, I am quite flattered, but not really surprised. From what I heard, the women of the guild are ones that never really fit in with most other humans…"

“But I'd never been aroused at the sight of a male equines either! It was always… women…"

“So someone like Diane?" the stallion asked in a conspiratorial tone, and Gwendolyn found herself unable to meet his twinkling eyes as her nipples stiffened at the suggestion. “No need to be bashful. You might even have a chance with her if her tastes extend to two legged females…"

“What do you mean?"

“Well come on… I know those tiny little noses of yours aren't good for much but surely you've smelled Contessa on her every now and again?"

“Yes, but she's her steed! They ride together so of course she would…" she spoke, but just trailed off. After all, she rode on top of Artus and she doubted his scent would be all that noticeable on her. “You mean…?"

“Well you've been told the Bond runs deep between courier and steed right? And so have I. But I've also overheard things here and there that gave me a better idea…"

“Overheard… as in 'accidentally' or?"

“Well I can't help it, can I? I have the ears of a fox!" he said, flicking them for emphasis.

“And the morals of a sailor…" Gwen replied with a grin, knowing that it was true in both ways. Apart from the strange attraction, Artus was rubbing off on her. The steed was no less tactful that when she'd first met him, but the behavior that had at first been abrasive bordering on annoying was now almost endearing. “So Diane and Contessa… how do they even…?"

“I've been wondering the same thing. Usually while making those slapping noises that kept you up…" the stallion said, taking a few steps closer to the nude woman suddenly lost in very vivid contemplation. “And while we're on the subject of relief, I think I better do my part…"

Gwen was at a loss for words, having become quite heated up while posing naked for the stallion, and as images of Diane and Contessa together hit her mind she found herself to desperate for release to speak. She watched Artus bring his grey-stained muzzle to her chest, gasping when the stallion let out a sharp exhale, the heat of his breath hitting her bared breasts and robbing her of her own.

Her hands rose and her fingers brushed against the powerful neck as the alabaster stallion began to nuzzle the full mounds gracing her chest, making Gwen go weak at the knees with nothing but gentle brushes of his lips against her freckled skin and the heat of his breath as he took in the scent of her bosom.

“So, I guess all males are drawn to these?"

“Males?" the steed asked, looking up at her with mischief in his eye and making her remember just what part of Diane she'd desperately tried to avoid staring at, worried she might alienate or even disgust her.

“Mhhh, point taken…"

“A stallion doesn't normally have a chance to play with these. I'm taking advantage of a golden opportunity…"

“What do you mea-aaaahhhHH!" Gwen tried to ask but was cut off when those large, nimble lips closed around one of her soft globes. And the fact that he had his mouth around most of her breast didn't stop the stallion from speaking into her mind.

“Well a mare's teats are at just the right height for a hungry foal to reach, but it's tricky for a full-grown stallion. These, on the other hand…"

“Mpppfhh!" was the best reply Gwen could come up with, since the stallion nursing her had chosen that moment to run the tip of his tongue over her easily accessed breast.

Gwen found her fingers trailing along the equine head until they were behind it and she was pushing it against her chest. Artus remained silent as he switched from one ripe globe to the other, while the best she could do was remain standing. Her body was starved for a touch other than her own and she could feel the bare thighs rubbing together as the stallion toyed with her chest were getting slick.

There seemed to be some reluctance in Artus' eyes when he released one of her mounds and began trailing his lips down her cleavage, then her stomach, and lower still. She could see his nostrils flaring as he reached the tiny red patch above her slit, the strangely shameless display making her bite her lip until she could finally feel his breath against the wet skin of her sex. She spread her shaky legs, hands on the large equine head and her heart ready to burst even before she felt the tip of that broad tongue slide across her slit. A shuddering breath was almost pulled from her lungs, her eyes losing focus and her leg almost buckling. Her fingers dug into the flowing white mane of the powerful stud licking between her thighs, tasting her as the swipe of that long, smooth appendage send jolts running up her spine.

“Wait, this isn't going to work out…"

“Nonono, please just…" she panted desperately as Artus pulled his head up.

“Neither my neck nor your legs will hold out long enough. Let's see… there! Think you can get up on that branch?" he asked, with the bewildered Gwen following his gaze to the tree-limb in question.

It didn't take her brain long to work out what the stallion had meant, and even less to clamber up and sit on the branch, resting fairly comfortably with her cheeks pressed against the bark and her legs spread wide, giving the pale stud an eye-catching view that was conveniently at eye-level. The moment he was near enough her hands went to his muzzle, almost pulling him in until his lips were pressed against her messy sex.

They were nimble things, strong enough to tear up blades of grass or, as Gwendolyn soon learned, to pinch and pull at her own plump folds. It was like having her labia gently bitten by something that was itself soft and velvety, and the stallion giving her those tender 'love-bites' seemed to be interested in seeing just what sort of mewling noises he could get her to make.

Even with him just toying with her, Gwendolyn had been teetering on the verge of a climax, and when she felt the tip of that broad equine tongue press against her lips before pushing between them, she felt one hit her, the muscles in her legs and abdomen twitching as she gushed against her steed's muzzle. But Artus didn't seem to consider his work done, nor did the stallion seem willing to give her time to either savor or recover from the climax.

Gwen had claimed her own virginity one frustrating night when she'd failed to achieve release by just rubbing her young slit and the little nub above it and was forced to delve deeper in a quite literal sense. That meant there was no maidenhead to stop the white stud from pushing the silken appendage deeper, the young woman's walls still twitching in the aftermath of her orgasm but nevertheless yielding to the length of muscle worming its way into her.

Her climax had done little to sate her appetite, serving only to make her sex more sensitive, so that every little touch against the silken tunnel made Gwendolyn's toes curl and her pulse quicken. When Artus had first broached the idea, she'd held firm to her conviction that she wasn't really attracted to a male that way, and that she'd wind up imagining it was someone else's mouth down there.

But even the thought of it felt wrong. Pointless. It was her steed lovingly licking away between her thighs and the knowledge that it was him only served to inflame her passion. Even though this was her first time letting someone get this intimate with her body, there was no awkwardness, and it felt right to let Artus be the first to have her. He was still cocky and his opinion of himself was a little too high for her liking, but there was no denying the tender curiosity with which he dipped that thick tongue in and out of her dripping femininity.

And the stallion certainly seemed enthusiastic, the tip of his tongue probing and prodding around inside her, those keen ears perked and picking up every peculiar little sound that got past her lips. Being the subject of his exploration felt even more intense than the first time a curious Gwendolyn had discovered how to give herself what she dared not ask from other girls. It was all she could do to try and not to squirm, and she'd thought she was doing a good job of that until she felt herself sliding off her perch.

Her arms shot up and fortunately found a branch above her, gripping it just before her rear slipped off the one she'd been sitting on. The panic of falling had also made her wrap her legs around Artus' head. And as she hung from the tree with her ankles crossed behind it she realized there were advantages to her new position.

Her steeds face (or those parts of it she could see) looked puzzled for a moment, but when she began to buck her hips against his muzzle the stud got the gist. The tongue plunged back in, as deep as it could while Gwen's thighs clenched around the large equine head, keeping him where she desperately needed him to be. She couldn't believe how brazen she was being, using her legs to push the stud's face against her crotch even as she ground it against his muzzle, but when she heard a familiar slapping sound even that last shred of restraint was gone.

The cries she made as stars swam in front of her eyes were noises she'd never heard a human make, her hands gripping the branch above her so tightly she was sure her knuckles were as white as the stallion whose face she was riding. His tongue was pistoning within her now, the grey part of his muzzle shining under her juices as she bucked wildly, grinding her drenched slit against his lips. When it finally hit her there was no noise, her breath stopping in her lungs as her pupils narrowed to pinpricks. The toned legs trembled as they held the equine head in their loving grip before finally going slack, leaving her almost seated on her equine lover's muzzle.

“Any idea when you'll be getting down from there?" he asked clearly, despite the fact that his lip were still pressed tight against her quivering cunny.

“Ahmm just… give me a minute…" she breathed out, still unable to get her brain to form a thought. The best it could come up with was that she couldn't hold on to the branch forever, and once that happened gravity would solve her problem…

*******

“So help me, if you laugh…" Gwen warned as she got into a somewhat awkward position.

“I'm not staring because it's funny, you know…"

“Oh, that's right. I forgot what a letch you can be…" she replied, but her irate tone was quite obviously faked. She did feel ridiculous with her shoulders on the grass, her back resting against the trunk of the tree and her femininity on full display, pointed as it was towards the sky. Figuring she was as comfortable as she could get, she carefully removed the little cork stopper from the vial, replacing it with her thumb as she turned it upside down.

This is not a good time for shaky hands… she mused as she used the fingers of her right one to part her labia, trying to be as careful as possible as she brought the vial closer to her now fully exposed sex. Once she was sure she had it where in needed to be, he removed her thumb from the opening and immediately pushed the slim glass tube an inch or so inside her. Both the vial and the liquid inside it were cool, and it was a peculiar sensation to feel the cold fluid drain deeper into her. Gwen remembered the apothecary's instructions and did her best to take deep, even breaths, letting her body relax as the potion seeped slowly but surely into her.

It was amazing what Artus managed to overhear while, supposedly never actually listening in, but she was glad (or hoped to be) that he'd picked up this little bit of knowledge about the sort of potions the modern alchemist had available for someone facing their dilemma. Granted, she had made a brave attempt at taking her equine lover without such help. He'd been lying on his back while Gwen was struggling to keep the folds of her sex spread open with one hand while trying to push the stallion's squirting tip in. After much frustration she did finally manage to take her stud's tip inside her, but to the disappointment of both they realized that she could go no further without help.

The break still hadn't gone to waste, and it had been a stroke of inspiration for her to rub her whole body against Artus' rigid length, keeping the flare trapped in her cleavage while she ground her sex against the base of the equine pillar. They had failed (quite spectacularly in her case) in avoiding making a mess of themselves, but fortunately there had been a stream near enough.

And once they'd reached their destination there had been the little shop with the very helpful young lady tending it along with her own bonded companion, which had been either a very wolf-like dog or a very civilized wolf. After a while spent with Gwen unsuccessfully trying to hint at what she needed, it had been the canine that had correctly guessed she was from the guild. After that the young lady seemed to know exactly what Gwen really needed and proceeded to instruct her in the use of the special tonic in enough detail for her to get the picture.

The sensation of coldness slowly faded, and just as promised Gwendolyn could feel the walls of her sex heat up. It built just up to the point of discomfort before she felt it seep through the delicate pink walls of her femininity and seemingly flow into the surrounding muscles. Seeing the vial was now empty she removed it, blushing a little at the pop it made as it slipped out past her lips.

She felt a wave of giddiness wash over her and she wasn't sure of it was the potion's work, or the knowledge of what was about to happen. Craning her neck up she got an up-side-down view of Artus quite clearly enjoying the view, or possibly just contemplating what was to come. She still couldn't believe what the two of them were about to do, but she knew she wanted it every bit as much as the amorous stallion. And after the heat of the concoction was replaced by a more familiar kind, Gwen dipped a finger past her lips to see if she was ready. It came away moist but clear, without any trace of the oily amber fluid she'd poured into herself.

“Well, I think that's done it…" she said, tumbling over and getting back on her feet. “You think this will hold?" she said, patting a thick branch growing almost level to the ground at just over her height.

“I love how you're more worried about some random elm surviving this unharmed than yourself…" came the bemused reply, and she couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the idea. “Looks like it will hold, but let's check without you under it." the stallion said, walking up to the branch that was the subject of so much speculation. Gwen stood clear when he reared up, and when his forelegs settled on to the thick length of living wood the leaves did shake but the tree-limb didn't so much as bend under the stallion's weight. “Well, I'm comfortable. Whenever you're ready…"

Gwendolyn couldn't help but smile at the tender tone of her equine lover, one that meant a lot at this moment. With the stark-white stallion in this position his erect shaft was more prominent than ever, and if she was going to take that safely – potion or not – she'd need all the tenderness she could get. It was still hard to believe that anyone other than a mare could accommodate something like that and enjoy it. But despite a bit of lingering fear, she was too turned on by the sight of her equine lover to hesitate.

His scent was a familiar thing by now, and she could feel a tingle run along her spine, stopping somewhere between her legs as she felt her lips moisten and a few drops slide down the inside of her thigh. It was broad daylight now and the dark length of firm flesh looked magnificent, the sight of it alone conjuring memories of the warm hardness covered by dark skin every bit as smooth as silk. Part of her wanted to take her time, to run her fingers, tongue and lips along that glorious length, but she doubted either of them had the patience for that. She knew for a fact she didn't.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped under the stallion, awed by the sheer size and strength of the body resting above her. She placed her hands against the same branch Artus' forelegs were resting on as she began to slowly make her way back. Gwen gasped when she felt what she was waiting for – the bump of something warm and wet against her bared behind. Taking another deep breath, she used one hand to guide the stallion's tip, keeping the still slim flare against her by now messy lips as she thrust her rump back.

A shaky cry was torn from her throat as she felt the familiar sensation of her body accepting a stallion, a bit shocked at how easily Artus had slipped in. There was no pain this time, not even a sting, but thankfully the potion had done nothing to dull the spine-tingling sensation of her sex molding itself around the massive member until she could feel the shape and surface of the equine rod in an intimate clarity that her fingertips couldn't hope to match.

“How are you doing?"

“Fah-fine… let's try… see how far I can go…" she said, panting in a way that would have made a whore blush.

Mustering up as much sensibility as she had left, she carefully pushed her rump down on the throbbing rod now held firmly between her splayed lips. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she took the spire meant for a mare with amazing ease. She could feel the little ridge of Artus' flare as it slipped deeper into her, claiming her as the alchemical substance allowed her body to comfortably conform to the bestial length.

Inch by inch more and more of the hard heat filled her, to the point that Gwen actually had to take a step back just to keep going. She wondered giddily how much she could possibly take, imagining herself sliding further and further back until her straining lips were pressed against her stud's sheath. But she knew that even with the potion she couldn't expect to take everything Artus had, and it was just after she'd felt the medial ring slip in that the blunt end of the stallion's shaft bottomed out.

Gwendolyn ran a shaky hand along her belly, half-certain she would feel the outline of the dark length now buried snugly between her thighs. She didn't of course, but there did seem to be a bit of a swell to her usually trim tummy. There was at least a foot of hard, throbbing equine flesh now firmly lodged inside her, and she knew that if it hadn't been for the little marvel of modern alchemy this would have been a painful if not outright dangerous experience.

But the potion had done its work and Gwendolyn just felt… full. The word seemed inadequate do describe how she felt, but she couldn't think of a better one, at least not in this state. There was a temptation to keep her stallion hilted in her and try to work out some way they could get what they needed without so much as an inch sliding out of her. She was confident it wouldn't take much for her. They were such a snug fir that even the slightest movement made the equine appendage shift just enough for it to rub against the sensitive walls of her sex, not to mention the little nub she could feel pressed against the girthy rod. She was sure all it would take would be a few quick rubs to push her over the edge and into blissful release, but she wasn't sure if it would be enough for her stud. Besides, she had promised him a ride.

“O-ookay. You can -uhm!- you can start…" she breathed out, feeling just a little anxious about what she knew was to follow.

She was left breathless when the throbbing black length began to withdraw and she got a good idea of just how much of the stallion's member she'd taken! He was obviously being careful, taking things slow enough that Gwendolyn could feel the inches of hard equine flesh leave her as her folds clung to the shaft. When she felt him stop with nothing but the subtly flared tip still inside her, her heart nearly skipped a beat, time seeming to slow down until she felt the whole thing in reverse.

She remembered the sight of the muscles rippling on Artus' haunches back when he'd thrust into her hands as she gripped his mighty maleness. She realized that on some level she'd been expecting the same forceful thrusts now that she was - for all intents and purposes – his mare. But despite the fact that he'd pushed in much faster than the tentative pace from moments ago she could tell he was being gentle. Her mouth opened wide without any sound coming from it as that glistening black length once again pushed its way past her lips, stopping only when the medial ring kissed against the splayed folds.

“Like that?"

“Uuunnhhggghhhuhh…" was the best reply Gwen could muster, with her tongue hanging past her lips and her eyes staring blankly ahead.

Thankfully Artus took that as a 'yes', and soon Gwen was treated to a steady, toe-curling rhythm as her equine lover began to mate her. Nothing had prepared her for what this would feel like – not that first awkward attempt to make him fit inside her, nor the time she'd ridden his muzzle, and especially her early attempts at satisfying her budding and (at the time at least) deviant urges. She knew for a fact it wasn't friction making the heat rise within her, considering the fact that the pistoning length was making a mess in her and that the stallion's juices (as well as her own contribution) were already running down her thighs.

It was the feel of something so thrillingly hard and yet so silky moving in and out of her, the throb of the mighty spire as well as the beat of her lover's heart she could feel whenever the length bottomed out inside her. The sounds coming from her stud's powerful chest as he took her like a filly in her first heat, his tempo loving despite the bestial nature of the length sawing in and out of her.

Her first climax took her by surprise, crashing over her without any sort of warning. There was no tantalizing build, no eager anticipation, just a jolt running up and down her spine as her sex clamped down, trying to milk the equine shaft still sawing in and out of her in the same, steady rhythm. Her vision dimmed until she forced herself to breathe evenly, wondering idly if fainting right now would mean her falling on to the ground face first, or if the stallionhood rutting her would manage to hold her up.

The sounds of their coupling grew louder and wetter. The sheer girth of her lover meant her sex couldn't gush, so the mess she'd made as her peak hit her was only now being churned out by the stud's rutting. Thinking of it like that was a thrill, even though Gwendolyn could tell how careful Artus was being. She remembered the sort of plunges that powerful equine body was capable of, and was pretty sure that the alabaster steed had it in him to breed a mare with enough passion and ferocity to leave her walking funny.

But she doubted there was an urge in him that could drive him to cause her pain. It was the bond that had grown between them, the one they were even now expressing in this most intimate of ways. Gone was any pretense of helping each other relax or work off some excess energy. In the blissful post-orgasmic clarity she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were making love.

She allowed herself to bask in the fact, as well the gentle efforts of her equine lover. There was the warmth of the muscular body stretched out above her, the familiar scent of his fur mingling with the sweet fragrance of the mess they were making between her legs. The subtle grunts and nickers he was making and last but not least of all the sensation of his shaft as it slid past her glistening folds over and over again.

She'd seen feral equines mate, and even though she knew he tended to last quite a while when it was her hands, lips and tongue on his shaft, Gwen had suspected that once he actually mounted her and managed to slide that glorious shaft between her thighs, the act would be brief but quite vigorous. Instead she was being treated to a gentle lovemaking that had gone on for so long now that she was wondering if Artus would ever tire. Show off! He wants to make sure I'm exhausted by the time he's done... she thought, a crooked grin spreading across her face. It was childish, vainglorious, and she would be sure to tell him so after he was done showing off.

He had driven her to another climax, and she could feel a third one building when she felt the equine appendage driving into her just a little harder. She could feel the blunt tip as it nudged against her cervix, and when the part doing the nudging began to get bigger she knew what was next. She bit her lip as the sheer thrill washed over her, the sense of anticipation growing along with the flare stroking along the silken walls of her sex.

As she felt the pistoning girth throb her mind conjured up the sight of it. But as the equine length grew harder it wasn't her hands wrapped 'round it, and when the moment came the stallion's seed wouldn't shoot all over the ground or -on that one occasion they'd remembered to do it on the riverbank- her skin.

The mushrooming tip was pushing the limits of both her body and the potion she'd poured into the cunny now filled to capacity with the snorting steed's member. Artus held himself still apart from an occasional nudge, as he was testing if he was truly as deep inside his 'mare' as he could get. Gwen could feel his heartbeat inside her and found herself moaning with every beat, teetering on the edge of her own climax as her equine lover reached his.

Frozen in a moment of perfect clarity she could feel everything – the way the veins on the black spire stood out, the way the underside of it suddenly swelled as the first rush of equine seed traveled along the rock-hard length, and the peculiar sensation of that little tube jutting out against the barrier to her womb, an absurdly delicate gesture that at the moment seemed like a tender little kiss.

She knew that being filled by a stud in his prime was unlikely to be a subtle experience, and even though she knew just how much that heavy black pouch between Artus' haunches could pump out, it was an entirely different matter now that most of the throbbing length was buried in a velvety passage that had been snug before the flare had swelled up. It was the surge of warm, equine spunk gushing against her cervix that tipped her over, her nails digging into the bark of the thick branch holding her stallion above her.

He was shooting into her even as her thoroughly rutted sex milked him, trembling muscles still finding enough energy to pulse and squeeze around the length that was pouring a thick white deluge into her womb. Even in the throes of her peak she could feel the warmth spread through her as Artus' seed reached parts of her that even his still twitching shaft hadn't.

Even as the equine appendage began to grow soft, the tip remained flared, and she could feel it rubbing along the over-sensitive walls as her lover's member slowly withdrew. When it finally slipped past her glistening lips she could actually hear it_,_ but as lewd as that pop was it wasn't the reason Gwen's cheeks colored enough to almost match her hair. It had seemed warm when it was being deposited into her with every throb and twitch of Artus' shaft, but it felt hot as it gushed from her sex, thick rivulets running along the inside of her thighs with another one soaking into the little ginger patch covering her mound.

Her back ached when she finally got out from under her stud and straightened up, and her legs were so wobbly she didn't trust them to carry her further than the base of the tree. She smiled when she spotted the sheen of the panting stallion's damp coat, satisfied that he'd exhausted himself exhausting her. Warm equine seed continued to seep from between her slightly bruised folds, the blush visible under the milky goo covering them reminding her that even at his most tender, Artus was still a lot for her to take. And judging by the subtle swell of her belly, she'd taken a lot more than the mess that had leaked out. Sitting down with her back against the elm that had done such a wonderful job of facilitating their lovemaking, she was struggling just to keep her eyes open. And when Artus settled down next to her and laid his head against her chest she felt the corners of her moth lift just has her eyelids dropped, the last atom of her strength spent on cradling her stallion's face against her breast.

*******

“Do you think it's seen us?" Gwen asked in a hushed tone, trying to will herself to calm down despite the panic gripping her.

“You tell me. Your eyes are sharper than mine…" Artus replied, and the fact that his voice was coming into her mind without any sound being made was no guarantee that his words wouldn't be overheard by the sicaris.

“It's facing ahead, same as us… but I meant if he'd seen us…" she whispered, all the while focusing on maintaining the Corridor and regretting that it had to be arches she envisioned. She'd like nothing better than to be able to put up a wall -even if it was just made of roses- between her and the sinister shape padding along beside the road just ahead of them.

“No, we'd know if it had. Most probably only after it was too late. Somebody went past this way and it's tracking them…"

“One of… us?"

“Not likely. They never send out two teams on the same trip, and we've got this route for another week still. Must be a caravan…" her steed said, and Gwen just nodded.

Caravans are to slow and have too many people in them to have any hope of pulling off a trick like the Corridor, even if they could persuade steeds to act as beasts of burden. So without a hope of masking their presence from predators, they had no choice but to fight them off. They haven't come across one yet but she'd heard from people in the guild that they are fairly easy to spot – a long line of heavy carts and tense, scarred men riding along and scanning the horizon for threats.

The concoction known as the scentry could just about guarantee you could go to sleep and wake up alive and whole, but they were no use if you were moving. So that left caravans no other choice but to try and scare the roaming predators off, or failing that to fight them off. With the beast still prowling ahead of them, Gwendolyn found herself envying them those options, even though she knew that as dangerous as her and Artus' job was, it was the safer one by far. Caravan guards were paid well enough that they could retire quite young, but even so a great many of them never lived to see retirement.

“What do we do?" she asked, hoping against hope that the fiend on the horizon would somehow lose interest and vanish back to wherever he crawled out from.

“Well, the correct way of dealing with this situation is to never find yourself in it." Artus said, still steadily making his way down the road.

“Don't you think we should stop?"

“No, I know for a fact we can't. The Corridor only works if you keep moving along from one arch to the next…"

“What about stopping and dropping scentries?"

“If it was nighttime and we went without a fire, it would be one of those 'so crazy that it just might work' things. But scentries will not really make us invisible. There is nothing nearby that could hide us from plain sight, and if this stubborn stalker had looked behind it he'd already have spotted us by sheer dumb luck."

“Can we go around it?"

“We could still be spotted, and if we do we'd be on the sort of uneven, tricky terrain that's much less risky for something on paws than something on hooves…" Artus replied, clearly favoring the road of packed and beaten earth where there were no hidden rocks or holes that could seriously injure him if he had to make a run for it.

“We… we could go back…" Gwendolyn said, her voice straining as she failed to keep the fear form it. Not that she had any hope of hiding it from Artus, but she figured she might try and delude herself that the four-legged figure in the distance wasn't Death itself.

“We have a duty to go forward. That thing is tracking a caravan that went along this same road, which means going back and turning around after a while wouldn't change anything. We'd still run into the bastard."

“Then what can we do?"

“We'll try to rush past it." Artus said, the tone of his voice sounding calm and determined in Gwen's head, and she suspected it was the only thing helping her keep her calm.

“H-how? It's practically walking along the road…"

“Remember your lesson on sicari?"

“Yes. They… they try to stun their… prey." Gwendolyn said, remembering how easy it had been to study the creatures when you weren't faced with the fact that the prey would likely at some point be – you.

“That's right. Even after it's seen us the Corridor will help keep us safe from it but it will be harder to keep it up. Partly because we'll be going very, very fast, and partly because that thing will be trying to tear it down." He said, and since he sounded like he had a plan, Gwen made sure to calm her nerves and hear him out. “Those things look like they are built for speed, but they rely too much on that ability to make their prey freeze. The way I figure, even with me headed towards him the best he can hope for is to keep up for a few dozen seconds. If we manage to keep him out of our skulls for that long, he'll be wheezing and panting alongside the road while I gallop on ahead…"

“This isn't a boast, is it?" she asked, remembering that despite his cocky attitude and surprising calm in the face of danger, he was as green as she was.

“It isn't. Believe me, you've never seen me really run. When I hit my stride, you just hang on for dear life and keep those roses up! And if we're really lucky it will just stop dead ahead as it tries to stun us and I can just trample the miserable wretch…"

“All right. I'm… I'm ready." She said, taking a few deep breaths. She wondered if it had been the stallion's calm words, or the bond they shared that drove some of the panic from her. Or maybe it was just knowing that she didn't have any options. After all, what good was fear if you couldn't run away?

Since there was no point in delaying the inevitable, Artus picked up his pace, and soon enough the long, muscular neck of the sicaris twisted as the beast looked behind it. Its quarry was forgotten, but Artus' hope of running the thing over proved a bit too optimistic. The predator knew enough not to put itself in front of those crushing iron-shod hooves, but he still wasn't intimidated enough by them to leave the pair be.

Gwendolyn made sure to focus on her beautiful rose-laden arches, even as she got a good look at the creature taking position beside the road. The sicaris was as ugly as it was menacing, and it was the most terrifying thing the young woman had ever seen. Short, dun brown fur covered a hide stretched tight over a frame that looked skeletal, but she knew it was deceptive. Most of those bumps and ridges were whipcord muscles, the lean body powerful enough that the stalking beast wasn't daunted by the prospect of taking down something as physically imposing as her steed.

Fortunately Artus wasn't daunted, and she could feel the powerful muscles rippling even though the folded-up blanket as the canter became a gallop. The white stallion's hooves were beating against the packed earth under him, and the thunderous rhythm and the fact that she was atop the powerful equine making it made her feel a little braver. The wind was soon whipping against her face, and remembering that much of her job would be 'holding on for dear life' she leaned over as much as she could, her hands against Artus' muscular neck as she focused on the sight of the rose arches as they whipped past her.

She began to realize that her stallion hadn't been boasting when he'd claimed she had no idea how fast he could really run. She was sure that he'd already hit his top speed, but the alabaster thoroughbred kept accelerating. Even the sicaris was sufficiently intimidated by the display of the thundering equine to give him a wide berth, but the moment he was sure Artus couldn't turn and trample over him, the creature sprung at them.

She'd seen the road ahead, and had studied the map and despite the fact that she knew on some reasonable level that there was no gorge ahead of them, she was suddenly hit with the certainty there was and that they had to stop immediately or plummet to their death. She did her best to shake the terror off, and as she focused on her rose-laden trellises it passed, only to be replaced by a feeling that there was a field of flames ahead of them and that they were rushing towards the inferno.

As soon as she shook one terror away another appeared – the vague impression that there were blades and spikes at head-level, that there was a noose around her neck and the rope would grow taut if they took another step. The one thing all those delusions had in common was that they urged her to stop to save her life, when she knew for a fact that the only way for them to stay alive was to keep going. The sicaris was keeping up with them, and all it would take was for them to stumble, and all it would take for them to stumble would be for the Corridor to weaken. While it was true that she wasn't moving, she knew that if she believed any of those delusions for longer than a second, they would reach the mind of the galloping steed and seal their fate.

Pink roses whipped past her and she knew that to Artus' mind the arches would be flashing by too fast for him to even see the fine carvings covering them. The Corridor was holding, and she wondered if it had frustrated the sprinting beast enough for it to try it's luck, or had it simply sensed it was running out of breath and had only one chance. She spared a glance behind her just as the ugly thing lunged, after which she whipped her head forward and threw herself against her steed's neck, fearing the worst.

But the merciless beat of hooves on dirt didn't even falter, whereas the monster pursing them did. As Artus predicted it was left gasping at the side of the road, its strength spent while the stallion carrying her continued without slowing. Gwen remained stretched out over the stallion's neck, awed by the speed at which they were moving but knowing she was safe – even at this mad gallop, Artus was aware of the fact he was carrying a rider. She kept looking ahead, even though the air was whipping against her face with enough force to make her eyes water. They still had to keep up the Corridor, because any distance Artus put between them and the sicaris would mean little if the wretched thing managed to track them down.

She wasn't sure how long they had ridden without the stallion under her so much as slowing. She was wondering if the thoroughbred steed had any kind of limit, but she knew he'd reached his once he slowed and turned off the road. As the sounds of wind rushing past her and the punishing beat of hooves on dirt faded, others came to her attention, such as the still desperate beat of her heart and her steeds labored breathing. She hopped off immediately, not wanting to be a burden on Artus after he'd saved them both, and was about to reach for the canteen to get the huffing equine some water when she saw the vicious red stain on the pale steed's left flank, just before the stallion's legs folded and he laid down, still struggling to breathe.

If her heart had been beating wildly before, it had almost stopped now along with Gwen's breathing, her own legs failing her as she dropped to her knees beside her steed. Fear kept her paralyzed for a few seconds, her own terror-stricken mind managing what the sicaris had failed to do. Once she broke free her hands were trembling as she rifled through their pack. One side of the saddlebag was sealed and carried the various letters, ledgers and other messages they were to deliver, but the other carried their gear, supplies and the small leather case her shaky hand had finally tightened around.

“A-Artus? Artus, can you hear me?" she almost croaked out, her voice as close to breaking as her heart was.

“Yes…just…" her replied, and even though the fact that his massive chest was laboring to get enough air she knew the voice he sent into her mind shouldn't have been affected. It required mental effort rather than breath, and it should have been effortless when he was addressing his bonded rider.

Looking at the large red patch, Gwendolyn saw the long line of darker red where the blood was welling up from to stain the once pristine coat. The kit contained a length of catgut thread and a curved needle, and even though she'd been trained how to use it Gwen wouldn't trust her fingers to tie a shoelace right now. Instead she grabbed a large vial and as carefully as she could poured some of the astringent liquid over the cut. She used the small, sharp blade from the kit to slice a strip of the blanket that served as her saddle, judging it clean enough to serve as a bandage. After carefully placing it along the line of the wound, she laid her forearm against it, leaning on her elbow and using her other arm to press her wrist tight against the heaving equine flank.

“Artus? Say something! Please…" Gwen pleaded, the quivering tone of her voice betraying the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I'm fine… it's not a… deep cut…"

“Bullshit! How would you know?" she almost sobbed out, believing that the cocky equine was just putting on a brave face, and lying to her in the process.

“All the things that are supposed to be inside me… are still inside…"

“But… your breathing?" Gwen asked, conceding the point. The cut couldn't have been deep, and it had been the mad dash that made it bleed so profusely, but that still didn't explain the wheezing breathing or the foam flecks around Artus' mouth.

“That's the run! Only tried this… once before. To see how fast I could go and for how long before I… dropped. You should have heard the words my trainers called me when they found out!"

“I can think of a few!" Gwen said as anger followed relief.

“I'm fine. If my heart didn't burst up till now, it's not gonna. Just spent, that's all…"

“All right then just… rest up." She said, noticing that the reckless stallion's breathing was still deep, but getting steady.

“Left that bastard in the dust…" he said, his voice sounding unmistakably smug even as it drifted off.

The sun had been setting when they stopped and Gwendolyn had spent the last hour of fading daylight keeping pressure on the stallion's cut, feeling relief as his breathing settled into the slow, steady rhythm that indicated a deep, restful sleep. She thought about starting a fire, but this wasn't one of the little resting stops the Guild had made along the roads, ones that offered some shelter from rain and a bit of firewood. She settled for pouring out some scentries and draping what was left of the blanket over the slumbering steed.

Without bothering to take her stained clothes of she laid next to him, sidling backwards until her back was resting against the warm chest of the slumbering stud. She could feel the strong heart of her steed beating slowly as he slept, and found herself both smiling and blinking away tears. Not even facing down the sicaris had had matched the terror that had gripped her when she saw the large patch of crimson on Artus' flank. And she hadn't spared a thought to the fate awaiting her should she find herself alone in this wilderness, without the shielding benefit of two minds forming the Corridor.

The thought of losing the stallion had been the source of the terror, and there had been no thought beyond that. She thought back to all she'd been told of the Bond that formed between courier and her steed, and almost chortled. She knew what sort of bond it was now that she felt such blissful relief just drifting off to sleep next to Artus and feeling the steady beat of his big heart. But she supposed Diane and the others had good reason for using such vague euphemisms. After all, if she'd told her early on that she'd wind up falling in love with the cocky equine, she would have thought the lot of them were insane!

*******

“There, that should be just tight enough. Comfy down there?" Diane asked sweetly, and Gwendolyn had to admit that she really was. The strange contraption felt sort of like a padded hammock, but the reason she felt anxious wasn't physical comfort.

“I am, but… you're sure nobody will see us, or more to the point me out here?" she said, taking another upside-down glance at the verdant field.

“It's too early in the morning and it's not a market day, you'll have plenty of privacy. And just in case, you can always pull on this strap and the whole harness will unfasten."

“Right. Then I'll just be a perfectly normal naked woman standing next to her trusted mount."

“Your point being?" came another voice, caring but still teasing. And Gwen could see Contessa's point, even if the mare was out of sight. She'd also learned how come Diane has such a nice all-over tan and why she tended to wear only as much clothing as modesty demanded. She apparently preferred to go without so much as a scrap on whenever she got the chance, and given the fact that Contessa had her pretty saddle, it will mean that the steed Diane would be riding will be wearing more than she is. But at least she'll be riding on top…

“How about you though?" she asked Artus, or more to the point the white barrel-chest that was now a few inches from her face. “A saddle is too cumbersome, but you're fine with all these straps?"

“I'm just looking forward to what's to come…" the stallion replied, and Gwen could feel the air move against her bared behind as he swished his tail happily.

“I can see that…" Diane said, and Gwen noticed that her eyes were pointed between the stallion's haunches. “Better get you settled in before it's too late…"

She'd been told how this would work. In great, vivid detail, which was why she was now strapped to the underside of her trusty steed. It was still irritating that she couldn't really move, or see what was going on. Some of that irritation was dispersed when she felt Diane's fingers on her sex, giving it a few gentle strokes before spreading her folds apart. A second later she heard, or more to the point felt Artus nicker just before the still soft tip of his shaft was pressed to her splayed lips.

She tried to steady her breathing, hoping it would ease the anxious impatience as she felt Diane rub the velvety flare against her sex, until she finally felt pressure as it slipped in. She knew that now that she had him, Diane would stroke the base of the mighty shaft, letting it essentially 'drop' inside her. It was a peculiar reversal of the sensation she'd experienced a dozen times or so by now – that of the stud's spire going from rock-hard to tumescent after he'd left her filled to the brim with his seed.

The progress of his subtly flared tip through her passage was surprisingly gentle, the movement of the shaft almost snakelike as it filled her before stiffening up. The whole thing had bottomed out inside her before she felt it swell up, becoming thicker and harder with every beat of the stallion's heart. Her soft sighs took on a needier tone as she felt herself grow snug around the hard, hot member surging to life within her, which Diane seemed to take as a signal that her work was done. From her vantage point Gwen could hardly miss the sight of the older woman's slit, or the sheen to those supple lips that told her the Guildmistress had enjoyed either the feel of Artus' member in her hand, or more likely the sight of Gwen's own sex straining around it.

“Well it looks like you two are all set now. We'll be off to have some fun on our own, so either find us when you're done or just pull this strap…" she told Gwen before walking away. It hadn't occurred to Gwendolyn that the two of them would be left alone, but before she could find her voice she could hear Contessa galloping off, no doubt with a naked Diane riding tall in the saddle.

“So, I guess I'm left to trust you to be a gentleman?" she asked the stud she was now strapped to.

“I'll do my best…" he said, and before Gwen could think of a reply she felt him move.

It was a lazy gait, no more than a stroll, but as the steed moved forward there were a lot of other movements that had been too subtle for Gwen to notice while she'd been riding on his back. But with most of the stud's shaft buried snuggly within her sex the warm length moved around inside her just enough to rub against some very interesting spots. It wasn't like being mounted by Artus which despite his consideration and gentleness was an incredibly intense experience. His shaft barely moved out of her with every step, and all the subtle motion seemed to do was accentuate the feeling of fullness, of having every last bit of her he could reach stuffed to the brim.

True, the view wasn't much, but it served to make Gwen's other senses more keen. The comforting warmth of her equine lover started to blossom into a heat as she felt their movement rub her body against his, with the young woman wondering if he could feel her nipples stiffening with her breasts pressed flat against his chest. She certainly got a good idea of how he was liking it, since she could now feel many of the little noises that betrayed the stallion's excitement as deep rumbles.

With every step she became less concerned, or even aware, that they were in a wide-open field where anyone could see them. Her pleasure was mounting, and her mind drifting inward, feeling every throb and twitch of the now steely length held tight by her eager sex. It was a sort of heat that built and built inside her, and judging by the rumbling coming from her stud's mighty chest, she guessed his patience was also running thin.

“Feel like trying something else?" Artus asked, as he stopped his little stroll.

“Mmhhh-hmm. Got any idea-aaaAaahH!" she cried out, biting her lip once she remembered noises like that could draw unwanted attention.

But it had been hard not to squeal when she felt the stallion she was strapped to buck his hips, the leaking tip of his shaft pressing against her cervix as the short but forceful thrust took her by surprise. It was followed by another one, but now that she knew what to expect Gwen could at least muffle her cries.

Artus began to hump away fairly gently in short strokes, and soon enough Gwendolyn found herself swinging back and forth just a little, sliding a few inches off the equine member just before she slid back and was once again filled to capacity by her lover's massive endowment. Although this was hardly the first time Artus was mounting her, there was a strange feeling to being strapped to a harness under the rutting male, held up by nothing but leather straps and the equine erection claiming her sex with every buck and thrust.

She did have control of course – the strap she could pull to undo all of Diane's hard work and send her sliding off Artus' throbbing length and on to the soft grass under them. But her hand never so much as strayed towards it as she wrapped her arms around her lover's chest, lifting her legs as the steed flexed his haunches rhythmically.

She could imagine muscles tensing in those hind-legs, the whole length bowing just a little very time he bottomed out inside her. He was getting in deep, enough that she could feel the medial ring each time it slipped in and out of her, dragging along with it some of the mess that bestial length was making inside her. She was surprised when she felt the flare grow deep inside her, if only because more often than not Artus brought her to climax at least once before reaching his own peak. Still, he never failed to do so, if for no other reason that the sheer force of his own orgasm that never failed to push Gwendolyn over the edge.

She savored the almost-painful sensation of that tip mushrooming up, ensuring that she took every drop he had for her. The vision of the dark length lodged inside her swam before her mind, her brain conjuring the sight of what she could feel intimately as a familiar surge ran along it. She found herself gasping eagerly, wantonly, embracing the expectation of something familiar and welcome.

In retrospect, Artus' timing had been impeccable, and completely unexpected. Gwen's eyes went wide, unable to focus on anything but the wall of white fur as she felt them both move, even though they were standing in place. Her lover had reared up, and if she'd thought she knew what it felt like to have that equine shaft pressed as deep inside her as it could go, she'd been corrected once gravity pulled her down, pushing the trumpet-like head against her cervix with such force that she half-expected the barrier to yield. Her stud's forelegs were still in the air when the first rope of his seed traveled up his shaft and the young woman was long past caring who might hear her as she cried out to the world as her lover claimed her.

*******

“Nervous?" Gwendolyn asked slyly, hoping to ruffle Artus' feathers a little.

“Anxious. Maybe…" he admitted, and she was honestly caught by surprise. But then again it wasn't like he had any real hope of hiding his feelings from her.

“Well, you should be proud! Not a lot of stallions get picked to be a sire as young as you are… And I know for a fact you've had your eye on her."

“Yes and thank you, by the way, for coming here for no other reason than to support me…" he replied with a snort, as if his sarcasm might have been too subtle to pick up on.

“Well it's tradition, from what I've been told…" she said, trying to keep her voice level. It would have been easier if she'd turned away from the sight in front of her, but there was little chance of that happening.

While the sentient foals born to the Guild received affection from both their parents, their conception wasn't the product of romantic love. A big part of that was because even though physical affection and even passion were shred freely among friends, the mares and stallions ultimately fell in love with the women they were bonded with.

And as they both watched with rapt attention the preparation Contessa was receiving from Diane, there was no mistaking that while the pale stud would soon be the father of her foal, the copper-skinned woman would remain her lover. Diane was petting and kissing her mare's forehead while Contessa kissed along the dusky woman's neck, her muzzle slipping lower until she was nuzzling her breasts. It could have passed for tender innocence, if not for the occasional sly glance Diane threw their way, or the swish of Contessa's tail that would every now and again give them a glimpse of her winking sex.

“Let me just get you ready. Wouldn't want that young hothead getting carried away and hurting you in the throes of passion…" she said, loud enough for both Gwen and Artus to hear her.

“Oh yes please! Better safe than sorry…" Contessa spoke, and even though she'd learned that the mare wasn't quite as sensible as she'd first thought, and even though she was flashing the two of them her heat-swollen femininity as she said it, she couldn't help but think of her tone as warm and motherly.

They were in the part of the stable where departing couriers and their mounts would gear up, and where returning ones could stow their things away, but when no arrivals or departures were expected, the space was often reserved for those encounters that required a bit of room. Diane kissed her mare and mate on the lips before walking along the other female's creamy form, dragging one finger along her back until she reached the mare's rump.

With exaggerated care she gathered up the long hairs of the mare's pristine tail, and actually looked Artus in the eyes as he pulled it aside as if it were a curtain to reveal the pink slit eagerly winking at the young stallion. Gwendolyn's taste didn't really run to mares, strangely enough, but even she found herself breathing a little faster at the display. Diane's lips curved as she ran one hand along the equine rump, stopping once her palm was pressed against the fluttering marehood, a playfully possessive gesture as she hid it from the stallion's view.

As she pressed her hand against the equine femininity Contessa let out a distinctly feminine whinny, and Gwen found herself wondering if there was any need to prepare the mare or if the two were just paying this little game to frustrate Artus. Among others… she thought to herself, aware that even if she had been wearing any clothes, the signs of her won arousal would be easy to spot. Diane released her lover's tail but the mare kept it flagged to one side as the woman's now free hand traveled along her flank and then under it. A mare's teats were hard for a grown stallion to reach, but apparently Diane had little trouble. And considering the moans they could hear in their heads as well as the slit winking furiously against the soft hand pressed against it, Gwen guessed that difficult or not, stallions should be putting in the effort.

By the time Diane moved her hand Gwen could see the mess the mare had made of it and wondered if that had been the extent of the 'preparation' the two had discussed. She realize she'd been wrong when she saw the dusky woman run her fingers up and down between those flashing folds, and realized just how wrong when she pushed her hand in, followed by her forearm. Her jaw had dropped open at the sight of the pink marehood easily accommodating Diane's arm, even though she knew she shouldn't really be surprised. It was the sheer shock, combined with the lewdness of the scene that finally answered the questions that both she and Artus had about what those two got up to when they were alone.

Contessa continued to moan and wink as Diane began to drive her forearm in and out, and looking at the stallion standing stock still next to her Gwendolyn experienced a newfound admiration for the stallion's discipline and power of will. The wafting scent of a mare in heat was bad enough, but to see one almost writhing in delight at the hands of a beautiful woman was enough to make Gwen's thighs rub together. When Diane finally withdrew her forearm it was glistening from the elbow down, the sultry woman bringing her lips to the winking marehood and planting a little kiss on the flashing heart-shaped nub before she finally stepped aside for the patient stud.

“I don't suppose you need any preparation?" Gwen asked, but the only reply Artus could manage were a snort and a toss of his snow-white mane. The young woman suspected that the kindly and gentle mare even now looking behind her had no desire for a tender mating, since she seemed quite pleased at the sight of a stud that looked like a less than sentient equine…

Gwen walked over to one side, since if she was privileged enough to witness something so intimate she intended to get a good view. She held her breath as she watched her lover rear up, rolled her eyes at Contessa's 'Oof!' as he settled on to her back, especially considering the way her slit was winking as it awaited the black rod flexing under the white stallion mounting her. With exaggerated care, Diane took hold of the spurting tip and guided it to the mare's flashing femininity, stepping aside from the pair just as Artus tensed for his first thrust.

Contessa's neigh rang in the stable and her cry rang out in Gwendolyn's mind as she stared in shock at the sight of the ebony shaft disappearing nearly all the way inside the cream-colored female in one thrust. She hadn't even noticed Diane walking up behind her, gasping when she felt the older woman wrap one arm around her waist and press her bare chest against her back.

“Don't worry, she's fine. She always likes to get the young ones riled up, so they feel less self-conscious about their first time with a mare in heat…" Diane husked, speaking in a tone of voice Gwen had never heard her use, or at least never when she was awake.

As Gwen watched her stallion shift his hind hooves a little to get into position, she had the feeling that the woman behind her was doing much the same thing. She could feel Diane's breath on her neck before she felt her lips, those soft, tanned breasts pressed flat against her back and the other woman's hips flush with the curve of her rump. She could feel the wetness of the arm that had been wrapped around her waist, the same one that had been buried in the mare even now happily moaning as something more substantial pushed further into her. When she felt the wet fingers reach her mound, Gwen opened her thighs almost on reflex, crying out as Diane dipped the digits into her dripping honeypot just as Artus lunged.

Two fingers buried themselves into her steamy sex, and Gwen was a bit embarrassed to have cried out almost as loud as the mare who just had the entirety of a stud's pride and joy thrust into her winking sex. She was shocked at the force with which Artus drove himself into her, but equally amazed at how much the mare seemed to enjoy it.

“Quite a sight, huh? A stallion rutting without inhibition…" Diane whispered into her ear, showing very little inhibition herself as she pumped her fingers in and out of the gasping young woman pressed against her.

And as Artus pulled back and lunged once again, she could see just how big the difference was. The wildest, most passionate rutting he'd ever given her was tame and gentle by comparison. His pristine white coat did a great job of showing the muscles under the fur and skin, and she could see them bulging all over his body every time he tensed up before launching himself forward, sheathing every last inch of his shaft into the mare that seemed to want every last inch.

The strokes were long as he pulled out as far as he could, revealing an inky-black pillar dripping the mare's nectar before the whole thing disappeared once again, his pale hips coming flush with the moaning female's creamy rump. The randy beast mounting Gwen was far gentler, the fingers pumping away at a vigorous but altogether less violent pace, the dusky woman's other hand sliding around her chest as Diane helped herself to a firm, freckled breast.

As bestial as the mating in front of both of them seemed, Gwen knew that with feral horses things would be nearing their conclusion in a matter of seconds. But the two equines were doing what nature intended but also what they wanted, and Artus showed no signs of nearing his peak. His hold on Contessa's hips was firm, giving him enough leverage for those merciless thrusts that the mare seemed to be enjoying so much.

The pink equine sex was still winking even with a stallion thrusting away between those flashing lips. The mare's mate showed no sign of slowing either, and between Diane's lips on her neck, her fingers tweaking her nipple while her there hand continued pumping away between her legs, she wasn't sure how long she'd last.

Contessa reached her peak before the redhead did, and Gwendolyn could swear that watching the creamy-furred mare climax under the young stud breeding her had spurred Diane on. The woman pushed her fingers in as deep as it would go, stroking the walls of Gwen's sex even as her palm rubbed against the little nub at the top of her slit. As she came against the older woman's hand Gwendolyn experienced a strange sensation where she couldn't tell if she was the one being embraced by the amorous Guildmistress, or the one mounted by a rutting stallion.

She began to wonder if Diane was similarly confused when the woman began to grind her mound against Gwen's rump, the moisture she could feel being rubbed on her cheeks suggesting that Contessa's mate might be envisioning what it would feel like to be the stallion mounting that creamy rump. The brief daze was broken when the snorting, grunting stallion let out a loud whinny, his tail flagging as he drove himself forward one last time before stretching out on Contessa's back and huffing into the mare's pale mane.

The mare for her part looked almost demure, lifting her muzzle and flicking her ears back. Gwen was staring at the pair, her hand moving on its own and resting on her belly as if she could feel Artus' flare growing inside her the way it was in Contessa. Diane stopped her efforts and she could feel the woman's breath on her neck as she held her tight against her. The four of them stood frozen as the young stallion held himself thight against his mare, perspiration shining on his pristine coat as he emptied himself inside the satisfied Contessa.

The almost spell-like silence was only broken when Artus' shaft softened and receded enough for his flare to slip from the mare's folds, followed by a small splash of his seed (although Gwen noted that Contessa was holding on to a good deal more of it than she'd ever managed). When it was over the two women rushed towards the pair and Gwendolyn was surprised at first by the energetic, giddy atmosphere that followed the carnal interlude. But it soon dawned on her why they all felt like that, and why the women the steeds were bonded with always attended these couplings. It was because there was no alchemical miracle that would let Diane give Contessa a foal, nor was there one that would let her bear Artus'. But sharing this moment gave them all a foal to look forward to and satisfied that instinctive desire for a loving union to have the ability to bring life into the world, and leaving them nothing to regret.