The Black Stable
The night is so hot you can feel the sheets sticking to your skin. The window is open, but there isn't a hint of a breeze. Cicaedas throb so loud you have to put the pillow over your head to drown them out.
'So much for a great family inheritance,' you think bitterly. Why Uncle Ralph would leave 20 acres of virgin ranchland to you of all people is anyone's guess. You never knew him, never met him. He was the black sheep of the family, the wild eccentric gay uncle who lived as a recluse on this land for almost ten years before he finally died in an accident last winter.
Now it's mid-August, half a year later, and here you are to inspect it. The farmhouse is a strange dichotamy. The kitchen is in perfect order, clean and neat, with working appliances and water, as is the bathroom. But the rest of the house is nearly bare. Pictures of horses line the walls. No television or radio. The mailbox is rusted shut. No furniture in any of the other rooms except the bedroom, and that only contains a closet and a bed. The basement door is locked, with no sign of a key.
A tour of the grounds the day before revealed little else of interest. There was a large shed used for minor blacksmithy and leather working. Apparently, Uncle Ralph did all of his own maintenance, from new horse shoes to bridles. There was a well-groomed corral and a pristine duck pond.
The main feature of the ranch, the largest and most dominant structure, is the stable. It is a massive, low-build building with plenty of meshed windows for ventilation and heavy wooden shutters to close in case of storms or cold nights. The entire thing is painted black. You have no idea why. Something made you hesitate from going inside this last afternoon. As if the hairs on the nape of your neck stood up and the flight instinct within you warned of danger.
You are alone in the house. You've already taken two cold showers to try getting comfortable. You lie naked, sweating and panting. You waver in and out of dreams when something snaps your eyes open: the screen door opening with a creak.
You sit upright. You listen. Heavy footsteps in the kitchen. What the hell? You mutter a curse under your breath and pull on your boxers.
You freeze as more heavy footsteps set the stairs to creaking.
CLOMP...CLOMP...CLOMP....CLOMP...
You back away from the door and glance around wildly. The empty room seems to mock you.
"Who's there?" you yell. "I've got a cell phone, I'll call the cops!"
You hear what sounds like a chuckle. But it's the lowest, most bass chuckle you've ever heard. It's almost inhuman, the way it resonates from just on the other side of the door.
You grab the doorknob and yank it open sharply.
You are confronted with a pair of gigantic, bare, tattooed pecs. Stunning, godly abs rest just below them, each muscle as big as your face. The entire frame is swathed in shimmering, cream-colored fur. A tight leather thong is all that conceals the huge crotch, a crotch as big around as a ripe pumpkin.
You back away and nearly fall. The chuckle fills the room as the gigantic, muscular monster ducks its equine head and smiles coldly down at you.
"Come here," the anthro-Clydesdale demands in that ultra bass rumble.
You scream. You dash for the bathroom and slam the door shut. There is no lock. The door flies open, slamming you against the wall over the toilet and a huge hand grabs the elastic band of your boxers and yanks you forward.
"The first thing you're gonna learn, you little bitch, is NEVER to disobey."
You scream again as the gigantic, muscular arms flex and wrap around your failing body as if handling a frantic animal. You kick and hit, you bite and curse. The stallion ignores you as it strides back down the stairs and carries you out of the house. The stable doors are open.
Just before you reach the hay-scented darkness inside, the stallion's other massive hand slaps your ass so hard that tears prick your eyes.
"SHUT UP."
You bite back a scream and fall dumb, whimpering. The stable engulfs you. You smell the tang of hay and oats, the cool earthen smell of dirt and the unmistakable animal musk of sweat.
"Otto! You awake?"
"Yeah," snarls another incredibly deep, hulking voice from the darkness.
"Got the new stud here to break in. Get us some light."
A generator whirs on and dim, bare light bulbs go on in one corner. You see a double king size mattress on a wire box spring. Sitting naked on the mattress is an ebony stallion, a Breton, even more massively muscled than the white. A treasure trail runs down his massive abs to his thick crotch fur. Silver studs glitter from his nipples, a diamond stud in his left ear and a prince albert winks at you where it sways at the end of his cock.
Otto stands up and strides over. His eyes examine you as if inspecting a fresh new gelding.
"Kinda small, isn't he?" Otto says.
"Remember how Ralph was when we started on him? He'll grow."
Otto grins. His massive cock is starting to swell.
"I forgot how much fun it is in the beginning."
"Get a leash, will you? We don't want him bolting."
Otto vanishes and returns in a few moments with an open collar attached to a simple leather leash with a carabineer on its end. You begin to struggle anew as he gets closer.
"No!" you scream.
"I SAID SHUT UP YOU FUCKING LITTLE BITCH!" the cream stallion roars.
You begin to cry as you feel the hot, padded leather collar encircle your neck and click in place. Otto turns the simple lock and then pulls out the pin. Without it, you won't be able to rip off the collar. He clips the other end through a metal ring on the wall near the bed. The Clydesdale sets you down.
Panicking, you tug on the leash, but it doesn't budge. The two equine giants watch you and wait for you to settle down. Otto goes to the water trough and returns with a cup for the cream horse.
Finally, sobbing, you drop onto the creaking bed.
"What are you?" you wail. "What do you want?"
"Are you blind, boy, or just stupid?" Otto asks. "We're stallions, boy. You're here to replace Ralph, our last breed stud. We inherited you from him."
"What?" you whimper. "I...no...I inherited this farm from him!"
The Clydesdale sneers.
"That's what it SAYS so that you'll come up here, sooner or later. No human'll ever turn down valuable real estate. You took your own damn sweet time getting here, though. Ralph thought you'd come right away. No, bitch, you're the property, and we're the real heirs."
You shake your head in disbelief. You already know the answer, but you have to ask.
"What..what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Otto chuckles.
"Service us. In any fuckin' way we want. And in between, you eat, sleep, keep yourself groomed, and maintain the ranch. Oh, not to mention feed and groom Stod and I."
"What if I don't?" you work up the courage to say.
Both of them fall silent. The silence stretches out. You gulp and begin to regret the question as you sit there, sweating in your boxers, in front of two mountains of muscle.
"You don't wanna do that," Stod says in soft menace. His equine lips curl up in a sly smile. "Besides, after a day or two, you won't be able to get enough of us. You'll become a little slut, just like your uncle."
Thoughts whirl through your head. Thoughts of your life back home. Future plans. All your hopes and desires, holidays and vacations. It's all gone, now. Wiped off the face of your future by a pair of uncaring, horny animals. Your new masters.
They stand. Otto looks at Stod.
"You wanna start?"
"Yeah," Stod says.
He moves into the harsh light over the bed. It shines magnificently down on his towering, massive body. In the confusion of the abduction, you never got a good look at Stod. He's gorgeous. Beyond the dreams of any pro bodybuilder. The horse head makes him look like some Egyptian god come to life.
A tattooed ring of chains encircles his huge left bicep. A chain of barbed wire circles his right deltoid. Words are tattooed across his pecs: BIG BOSS.
"Like my tats, bitch?" he whickers as he looms over you. His finger traces your jaw line, then rubs over your hair. "Maybe you should look closer."
He slides onto the bed and spreads his huge muscular body out.
"Time to start earning your keep, bitch."
He rolls his huge pecs. You moan despite yourself. Otto chuckles.
"He likes you, Stod."
"He'd better. I'm gonna make him memorize every inch of me."
That's your cue. You try to remember that you're supposed to resisting them, planning an escape of some kind. At least get a message out to someone so they know where you are. But the massive, dominant stallion is making your cock twitch and harden. It starts to tent your boxers.
You stop moving forward as Stod points a thick finger at you.
"Don't ever approach me with clothes on, bitch."
"You never said to take them off," you protest weakly.
"I shouldn't have to. Now strip."
A knot in your throat, you pull your boxers off and carefully set them on the edge of the bed. Otto promptly picks them up and starts rubbing his crotch with them.
"Hey!" you cry.
Stod yanks on the leash. You choke and cough. He drags you bodily toward him. His strong hand grips the back of your neck, just under your hair line and he presses his lips to your ear.
"Get this through your thick skull, you puny little slut - if one of us gives you an order, you follow it. Period. If you answer any order from now on with anything other than 'yes, sir,' I'm gonna start snapping bones."
You whimper.
"Yes, sir."
"Now, don't make me repeat myself, bitch."
"Yes, sir."
You lower your head to the stallion's mighty chest. From up close, you can see how each of the individual hairs emerges from the thick, taught muscle. Tiny veins run across the massive pecs, making the tattoos rise along their edges.
"Lick my tats," Stod says softly.
You don't hesitate. You don't allow yourself to think. You obey, running your tongue over the firm, warm muscle. Stod tastes faintly salty, a residue of sweat clinging to him from the hot day.
Stod grabs your scalp.
"Slowly," he clarifies.
You slow down, using just the tip of your tongue. You trace the letters across the muscle. Big Boss. You can hear Stod's breathing like some huge bellows in a forging factory. Your ears catch a faint scratching whispering sound. Otto is still smearing your boxers against his crotch. Stod's chest subtly rises and falls, swelling and retracting with each huge breath. His nipples are as wide as your pinky nail and the same cream color as his coat. Tiny black spots blemish his hide.
He pushes on the side of your head with his finger, directing your attention to his arm and the chain encircling it. You wet your lips in preparation. He brings that huge, thick arm closer and flexes the bicep, stretching out the tattooed chains.
"Lick," he whispers.
You no longer need to be urged. Your tiny human cock is aching against your stomach, beginning to tear precum. You moan as your run your tongue slowly over the smooth, hard muscle. It's like licking steel or smooth river stone. The equine fur rasps against your tongue.
When you finish one arm, Stod flexes his other one and you repeat your worship. He turns it, exposing his elbow and bulging, thick tricep. You lick the barbed wire, breathing tiny little hot snorts out of your nose.
"I've got one more tattoo for you, bitch," Stod says in the same low, seductive rumble.
He reaches down and pulls on the leather thong, stretching it downward to expose the upper part of his massive sheath. Its obvious he shaves his crotch fur. It occurs to you that now you'll likely be the one to shave him.
Circling the base of his sheath is one word in small, bold letters: MASTER.
"Lick it, bitch. Lick it and remember."
"Yes, sir," you whisper.
You bend down. Stod doesn't spread his legs any farther, forcing you to put your palms on his tree trunk thighs and nuzzle your chin and cheeks against the deeply cut bulges of his inner thighs to access the word.
You have to struggle to reach it, inching up toward it while the thick, hard unyielding muscles of his thighs drag at your skin. Finally, your tongue touches the "S."
"From the beginning, bitch."
You lift your tongue and set it down on the "M." You trace the letters one at a time. Master.
"Again."
You do it a second time. Master.
"Until I tell you to stop, you will lick that word and read it."
You begin. Each time you finish, you whisper the word aloud. "Master....master......master.. master."
Over and over.
The thong snaps back in place, pinching your tongue as you quickly retract it. You don't stop. You were not ordered to, so you keep tracing the now invisible words on the leather and mouthing the word, barely audible now.
"Master."
"Stop. Look into my eyes."
You look up at Stod's gorgeously handsome face, his strong, manly jaw and deep black eyes.
"Now tell me who I am."
"Master," you say without looking away. His eyes bore into you, and you don't even dare blinking as he stares at you, lids heavy and half closed. Your vision begins to tunnel.
"Good," Stod says at last. He glances at Otto. "You finished?"
"Yep," Otto says.
He hands you your boxers.
"Put them on, bitch, and go with Otto. Show him where you put your clothes."
You slip on your boxers, and a thick, heavy, sweaty ball musk rises over your skin like a mist. You wrinkle your nose slightly, but though the smell is intense it's not unpleasant. Otto isn't dirty, just musky and gleaming with sweat from the heat.
You follow Otto's broad rippling back as he strides to the farm house.
"I take my breakfast at dawn, boy," he says casually over his shoulder. "A big one. Lots of oats and barely mixed into the hay gruel. There's a box of the mix in the cupboard. The grains are stacked just inside the door of the stable."
"I understand, sir," you say.
Otto grunts.
In the farmhouse bedroom, Otto yanks open all the closets and drawers, removing every scrap of your clothing while you watch. He opens a trunk in the bottom of the closet and places all your clothes inside before he shuts it, locking it with a padlock. He picks it up under one muscular arm as if it were just a football.
"You got any money?"
"A little, sir."
"Hand it over."
You pile your spare change and your wallet into his open palm. He bends each of the coins in half and flushes the wallet down the toilet.
"Phone," he says.
Weeping, now, you hand over your cell phone. He crushes it in one fist. Then he sighs.
"Don't be like that," he says gently. "It's no fun if you're a crying mama's boy."
You sniffle. You know you look pathetic, especially next to this big, black horse god. He gently tips your head up and kisses your lips.
"Get some sleep now, boy. And don't forget my breakfast."
"Yes, sir."
Otto points one finger at you as he heads for the doorway.
"You will not remove your boxers, and you will not jerk off."
You hang your head, all hope of relieving your sexual tension gone. The night stretches on, until you can almost forget the memory of the sun. You're a prisoner. Worse, a slave. The collar is still on your neck, chafing from the sweat and itching slightly, but otherwise actually quite comfortable.
The hot air makes Otto's residual musk rise. You whimper. His smell reminds you of his body, the way those godly muscles roll and bulge against his black hide. You clamp a hand on your throbbing cock, needing to cum worse than you ever have in your life. And you moan, because Otto forbid it. And somehow, he'd be able to tell if you did....
....your eyes crack open. Birdsong fills the air. The temperature hasn't gone down at all, and you have to peel yourself out of the bed. Your cock aches. You desperately want to take a shower. Then you see the pinking sky and Otto's words come back to you.
You take the stairs two at a time. You've never worked on a farm before. How the hell do you take care of a horse? A part of your mind quietly says, ironically, that you've always wanted to own a horse as a pet.
You find the huge box of hay seed mix. You hastily read the instructions. The sky is already growing lighter. You take out a mixing bowl and fill it half way with the mix. It's a dull green in color and smells vaguely like alfalfa. You add water and stir until it thickens to a paste. You hold it in both hands and jog toward the stable. Somewhere, a rooster crows. Sunlight strikes the stable roof.
You find the burlap sacks, labeled, with large plastic scoops in each. You scoop in a serving of each and grunt as you hastily mix it all together. A deep throat clears itself. You jump and look up. The black Breton leans against the stable door. He turns and gives a huge yawn, displaying giant blunt teeth and a pierced tongue. He rubs a hand down his treasure trail and looks at you.
"That for me?"
"Y..yes, sir."
"Then why aren't I eating it?"
You lower your head and hand it over.
Otto takes one huge mouthful and spits it in your face. You jerk back. The cold mush falls out of your hair and trickles down your skin. Otto tosses the bowl into the dirt in disgust and advances on you. You whimper, beginning to back away. He grabs you by the collar and lifts you clear off your feet.
"What the fuck is that shit?"
"S..sorry, sir.. I..I tried to....to..make it right," you blubber, tears running down your cheeks. The mixture is beginning to cake on your body.
Otto wrinkles his snout.
"Look at you. Weeping like a goddamn child. Should I smell your boxers and make sure you haven't pissed yourself?"
You try to gulp back the tears, but his cruel words make you burn in shame. Otto drops you hard to the ground. He points at the overturned bowl.
"Make it again. More water and mix it with more than just a fucking spoon."
You sniffle and limp to the bowl.
"HURRY UP!"
You cringe and dash for the house. There's no time to clean yourself. You wash out the bowl hastily and then pour more mix with shaking hands. You add water until it has the consistency of mud. Then you notice the electric egg beater sitting in the corner behind the bridge. It turns on at the first flick. Well maintained despite it's 1950's look.
You dare to put a finger into the thickening paste and taste it. You spit it out. It's like licking hay. But the texture is smooth. You pull it free and rinse off the spoon. You head out to the stable. Otto is leaning his massive body on one of the heavy wooden fences, twitching his rich black tail impatiently.
You add the oats and barely on top. He wanted them mixed in. Giving him a glance, you dash back indoors and run it through the egg beater one last time. Then you approach Otto.
"About time," he says softly.
He takes the bowl from you and tastes it with his finger. He smacks his heavy lips, then eats a mouthful. He grunts.
"Good. You learn fast. That'll save you some bruising."
You sigh in relief and turn to head back to the house. His fingers close on your collar.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"B..breakfast?" you say.
"You should have eaten already, boy. Guess you'll just have to wait until lunch."
He takes another massive mouthful, licking his fingers and humming in satisfaction. He makes it look delicious, even if you know how it tastes.
"There's a toolbox on the stable wall. Go get it and groom me while I eat."
"Yes, sir," you say softly.
Your stomach growls savagely as you return with a heavy metal toolbox. Inside, you find a series of brushes as well as a large towel.
Otto continues to down his breakfast in massive mouthfuls. He glances at you when you just stand there.
"Never groomed a horse before?"
You nod.
He snorts, but it's amused, not angry. Setting the empty bowl down, he leans back against the fence and begins to instruct you.
"All those brushes do different things. You wanna find the curry first. It's stiff rubber."
You hold it up. He nods.
"Now, rub it in circles over my coat. That'll remove all the stuff that's gotten into my fur during the night.."
He points to his massive pecs. You have to climb up the fence to reach them. He smiles as you begin to rub his huge chest muscles.
"Feels good, doesn't it, boy?"
"Yes, sir," you say.
To your surprise, it really does. It's relaxing, and Otto obviously enjoys it. His eyes close as you work his pecs, then his abs and obloquies. He turns around and presents his huge, wide back. You hesitate once your brushing reaches his big, bulbous muscled rump. He chuckles.
"All of it, boy."
Your lips part, half in concentration, half at the sheer erotic feel of grooming a giant, muscular male ass. You hear Otto's deep whicker. His tail stills to allow you to work the back of his massive legs. You finish up on his arms. He whickers softly and nods.
"Now, dandy brush. Look for stiff bristles and a wooden grip."
You brush his huge body all over again, sweeping away small clouds of dirt and loose hair. You shiver as you run the brush around his lower abs and around his crotch. You can see that the grooming is semi-arousing him. His cock has swollen thicker, though it's still soft. And the waves of musk rising from his crotch fur remind you of the night before. Your cock presses into your boxers.
Logically, the last brush is the final brush. You rub Otto's coat to a wonderful sheen under the morning sun. His rolling muscles shimmer as if oiled and he sighs in satisfaction, running thick fingers through his gorgeous, long black mane.
"Now...take the towel and rub me down."
You moan aloud. The towel is nothing but thin terrycloth. Your fingers trace every curve and bulge of his muscles beneath it. Otto doesn't help. He keeps whickering softly, gently flexing his thick muscles as you rub over them. By now you're on the edge of cumming just from the experience of feeling every inch of a godly equine.
"Good boy," he smiles. "You did great for your first time."
He strokes your head gently and you can't help smiling.
"Thank you, sir."
His finger lightly runs along your lips. You try to stifle the shuddering of your breath. Otto's muscled body gleams under the morning sunlight and a soft wind stirs his rich mane. His scent still clings to your boxers. Your throat is tight. You've never been this horny in your life. You NEED TO CUM.
"S..sir.." you say. "Since I've been so good....can I..."
Otto shakes his head. You stare at him. He chuckles and leans to your ear.
"We're saving you for tonight, boy. It's gonna feel like nothing you've ever felt before."
He leans back and folds his huge arms.
"Now, you'd better get in there, clean yourself up, and start making Stod's breakfast. He usually wakes up about now. Leave the grooming materials out, he'll need the same as me."
You check yourself in the bathroom mirror. You look like a mess. You haven't shaved, and your hair is a disorderly mop from sleep. The caked sludge looks like dried clay on your cheeks, neck and bare chest. Dry rivulets run down your body and nearly reach the boxers. But no such luck. You take a washcloth and scrub it off.
You feed Stod and then groom him when he orders it. He runs his thick, strong fingers over your bare ass, his hand inside the boxers as you polish his coat with the cloth. It leaves you shivering with desire, nearly cumming just from his touch. His thick lips curl upward in a smile.
"Bet you can't wait for sunset now, can you, horny little slut?"
He chuckles and tosses his mane.
"Day's heating up. You'd better get started on the other chores."
"Other chores, sir? I...I don't know what to do."
Stod slaps you across the face.
"Don't you think I know that, bitch? The other stud was just as ignorant when he came here. Follow me."
He leads you through the chores of the day, starting with cleaning the stalls. You bite back your protests as he orders you to clean out their latrine areas and then fill the stalls with fresh dry hay to absorb their excrement. It's sweaty, backbreaking, humiliating work.
With stable cleaning over, Stod gives you permission to eat lunch. You enter the house and grab the first thing you can make quickly. Munching on your second triple layer sandwich, you hear a rhythmic grunting and clanking coming from the stable. Curious, and a little afraid that you might be intruding, you inch your way toward it.
Between the latrine area and the bedroom area of the stable, you see that an elaborate and massive private gym has been set up. And both stallions are hard at work. You nearly drop your sandwich at the sight of the two huge equine studs pumping literally half a ton of iron between them, both of them nearly naked.
They work with a fury that's terrifying to behold. On the more dangerous exercises, like bench presses, one spots the other and urges him on with a mixture of encouragement and insults, working the one on the bench into a snorting, frothing animal who growls and roars as he lifts the bar again and again.
The floor becomes covered in a wet layer of raw muscle sweat. It drips from the squat rack, the lat pull down, the barbells. Still, they don't stop. Huge biceps shiny with sweat flex and bulge, veins visible from as far away as the two hundred feet to the farm house porch, as they work them on preacher curls and with free weights.
At last, after a full two and a half hours of training, they stop. Their huge bodies shake and pant, manes slick against their bulging backs. The air is so hot it shimmers. Stod looks up from dunking his head in the water trough and locks eyes with you.
"You enjoy the show, bitch?" he says with a nasty, almost predatory sneer.
You gulp and stammer an apology.
"Shut up," he says low in that deep voice. "This is what we do, bitch. This is what we live for. And you're here to make sure we get what we need to grow even bigger."
He pumps his massive pecs. Otto smiles and flexes a huge bicep. Stod runs his fingers across it, still eyeing you, daring you to ask to feel it. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
"You thirsty, bitch?"
"I.."
"Don't lie to someone three times your size."
"Yes," you admit, afraid of what's coming next.
Stod chuckles. His leather thong is barely containing his throbbing, massive cock.
"Good. Get over here."
You hesitate. He snarls, his muscles seething, nostrils dilated wide.
"Ohhhh you must want a beating REAL fucking bad, you little runt."
You shake your head, lip trembling. He points one finger at the ground near his feet. Shaking, you obediently come over to him. He grabs you by the scalp, so hard you fall to your knees from the pain. His huge hand cracks across your ass like a whip. You scream. He slaps your nipples so hard that welts start to rise instantly. He tilts your head back hard and bares his blunt teeth, inches from your face.
"That's what you get when you make me repeat my orders, you insolent, pathetic, puny little runt! You don't deserve the drink I'm offering you. You don't deserve to shovel our shit let alone drink the sweat off our bodies."
He shoves you to the hard concrete floor and puts a huge foot on your back.
"So lick it from the floor instead. You'll learn better next time!"
Weeping again, you extend a shaking tongue and run it over the stone. The sweat is a salty, bitter aftertaste on hot brick flavor.
Otto stands over you, watching you lick the sweaty floor.
"Lick the bench, too."
Stod raises his foot to give you access. You close your eyes and lick the sweaty leather padding. You turn pleading eyes to Otto. Anything is better than this humiliation. Even...
"What, you want something, boy?"
"Please..." you whisper.
"Speak up, boy. Can't hear you over your blubbering."
Anger dries your tears, but your face burns with humiliation.
"Please, let me lick your sweat off, sir."
Otto turns his body, displaying the sweat still running in rivulets down the cleft of his spine.
"You promise to be a good boy from now on?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be a good boy," you say.
Otto glances at Stod. Stod snorts in victory and smiles. He nods.
"All right, boy," Otto says. "Come on over. Drink up."
He purses his lips into the most incredibly manly, sexy smile you've ever seen as he brings his arms up and back into a stunning rear double biceps pose. You groan, pre oozing into your crotch hair. You unconsciously reach for your dick and then freeze at a warning glance from Stod.
You reach toward Otto.
"Did he say you could touch him, bitch?"
You gulp and drop your hands. This forces you to lean forward with just your face. At first, you go too far forward and end up plunging your face into hard, unyielding sweaty muscle. You come away, shake the equine sweat from your eyes and try again.
Your tongue curls up the coarse horse hair and hot black skin. Sweat rolls into your mouth, intensely salty. Otto's skin itself tastes incredible. Rich and rawly masculine. You moan and finally feel your willpower breaking. You clean Otto's entire spine free of sweat, down as far as the start of his tail, just above his huge ass.
Stod walks over and pulls you off by the arm. He grabs your head and shoves it against his abs. Wide, deep, bulging and cut as the Grand Canyon, with sweat trickling into the folds of muscle.
"Try a sample of these, bitch."
You shudder and groan as, unbidden, a spurt of true cum bursts out of your cock while you lick.
"Oh no you don't!"
Stod's hand grabs the base of your cock through the boxers and squeezes hard, acting as a cock ring while you surrender to a lust so intense it makes you giddy, your tongue worshipping his huge, rippling sweaty six-pack.
He leans down, hot air on your ear.
"Say it, slut. Say it and mean it."
"Master!" you moan. "Oh God! Oh my hot, sexy master!"
The tip of his tongue worms into your ear. You hump against the fingers squeezing the base of your cock and Stod bites your ear hard as punishment.
"What the fuck do you want, bitch? Huh? You want more of my godly sweat?"
"Yes....oh please...YES!"
Your entire body is shaking. You're beyond reason. At this point, you would do anything, absolutely anything if only the two studs would let you release.
"First you promise. You promise never to disobey or hesitate on an order again."
"I promise, sir."
"You promise never to try running away or call for help. Ever."
You gulp. Stod has just sealed your fate.
"I...promise," you say, forcing yourself to say it clearly.
"You promise to tell your masters every sex fantasy you have, no matter how lewd and kinky it is."
You smile and easily promise to that one. Finally, Stod makes you swear fealty to him. He yanks down his leather thong and slaps his cock against your face. Otto comes over, whickering, stroking his massive meat to harden it. White meat and dark, pulsing against each other, bobbing in the hot sunlight, caressing your skin.
"Swear on our holy cocks. You will be our little slave until you die," Stod says.
You weep then. You shake with sobs, mourning the life you can never have again. Because you are so horny that it's impossible for you not to.
"I will. I swear," you sob.
"Seal it with a kiss," Otto orders.
You reach out. You gently kiss each of their cockheads like the lips of a lover. Gently, they raise you to their feet.
"Welcome home, slave."
Stod's hand grips the back of your neck. He grins as he lifts one arm, flexing it behind his head, and pushes your face into his pit. Fulfilling your request. His fingers, cutting off blood circulation to your cock, are the only thing preventing you from exploding like a volcano. Stod's pits are shaved smooth, and the sweat and musk pour over your skin. It stings your eyes, fills your nose, and you lick it, welcoming it like holy water, like the Catholic host on your tongue. Sacred sweat from your new master and god.
Otto reaches in and pulls your head out. He shoves his own armpit against Stod's, sandwiching you between them. Unlike Stod, his pit is filled with dense, smooth hair. It traps even more sweat and man stink, and rasps softly as you clean it with your tongue.
With deep chuckles, your masters slowly release you, Stod slapping your ass hard again for good measure. Your cock aches so hard you think it'll never soften, and when it finally does, it sits between your legs like an itching, burning snake, and just the thought or whiff of the stallions makes it throb. It is a long, long wait until sundown...
...You try to kill time. You have no TV, no radio, no video games or magazines. The only books are on horses, from the history of breeds to medical reference texts. You don't dare touch them, or you'll think about the feeling of running your tongue over your masters' muscles, kissing their huge thick cocks. Stod's tattoo blazing in your mind: Big Boss.
After dinner, Otto gives you permission to shower. He wants you "fresh and rested." You take an icy cold shower. The water leaves no room for thought. It's painfully numbing and has a faint metallic tang when it strikes your lips. Well water, or a local aquifer, you guess. The entire farm is self-sustaining. There is a mail room for ordering more food and supplies. The house runs on solar and wind power, with a generator in the basement along with a human-sized home gym and a closet whose contents make you shiver.
You stand for a half hour, running your fingers along the bull whips, cat-of-nine-tails, ball gags, butt plugs, chains, cuffs, leather harnesses. There are huge black boots and leather gloves with glittering metal spikes on the knuckles. There is a specialized black mask not made to fit a human face, and a full leather gimp outfit with a zippered mouth slit that is. There are leather hats and ankle braces. There are jumbo sized containers of lube and posing oil.
Your mind swirls with unbidden images, each one darker and nastier than the last. You slam shut the closet. It was put here deliberately for you to find, you suspect. A taste of your life to come. By tomorrow, it will have moved into the stable where it belongs.
You pace your tiny room as if it were a cell. The cicadas' throbbing makes you run your nails across your temples. When will they call for you? When? When??
There is no way to judge time without the clock on your cell phone. But you wait as long as you can stand to, and there is still nothing. With a moan, you head for the stable. You walk down the stairs of the house and enter the yard utterly naked except for your collar. A stray mosquito bites your arm and you slap it away. Your feet swish through the brittle dry crass and crunch over the dust.
You stop at the open door to the stable. Smell of stallion, clinging to the hairs on your skin. They're waiting for you, at the very back where you were taken the previous night. You see their eyes reflected in the moonlight. You stand before them, and then you bow your head and kneel.
A click, and the light comes on, illuminating your masters. Your gods. The center of your universe. You drink them in with every sense, feasting your eyes on every slow ripple of muscle, inhaling their mingled sweaty animal stench, hearing their low breathing.
"I knew you'd show up sooner or later, you little slut," Stod says softly with a sly smile. "Told you you wouldn't be able to get enough of us."
You say nothing. You wait for it to begin. You see them stand and move slowly toward you. You dare not look up. So all you see are two huge sets of humanoid feet heading toward you. They stop.
At first there is nothing. You risk a glance up at your two gods. They're kissing. Kissing like stars of a porno film, the muscles of their powerful jaws working, snorting hot air, ears back and lips doing things you've never even imagined.
Otto parts with a chuckle, glancing down at you.
"Jealous, boy?"
"A..a little, sir."
"Don't be. Stod and I thought up a little present for you."
You wait with baited breath, half dreading and half longing for whatever it is. Otto reaches to the bed and holds up a towel. He twists it in his hands and cold, reeking sweat drips from it in a slow stream, directly over your hair. It runs down your neck and bare back, dripping from your nipples.
"You can have it when we're done with you," he says and sets it aside.
You shudder. Stod slaps your face hard.
"What do you say to him, bitch?"
"Thank you, sir," you say.
Stod sneers.
"And dream on about ever kissing one of us. This is the most you'll ever get."
He puts one of his thick fingers inside Otto's mouth. Otto whickers and slurps it up like a miniature cock. He does the same for Stod. Then they yank you to your feet by your collar.
You grunt in surprise as both fingers are shoved into your mouth. You can taste their mingled saliva and it makes you whimper.
"Time to get him warmed up," Otto says.
Stod points to the wall.
"Straddle yourself against it."
You do as you're told, heart hammering, breath coming in short bursts of fear. You hear Stod come over to you.
"This is for being so insolent today. You'll remember better."
"Yes, yes sir, I will!" you say quickly.
"Nice try, bitch."
He slaps your ass. Hard. You scream.
"That's right, bitch! You better scream for mercy!"
His blows come hard and fast, his powerful palm spanking you, slapping your shoulder blades, knuckles grinding into your spine. You yell and shriek with pain, though your cock is instantly hard. You glance over to the bed. Otto is there, a cold smile on his face, and he's slowly stroking his monster erection. The prince albert crowns his cockhead like a star.
"You want something to look at, bitch? Look at THIS!"
Stod grabs you by the hair and slams your face against his huge pec. His nipple plunges between your lips.
"Suck it, bitch. I wanna see what kind of a cocksucker we have, or if we have to train you on that, too."
His nipple is huge and thick. As you obey, it hardens until it's half the size of a normal human phallus. You can see the word BOSS, horribly distorted from so close up. It seems to loom at you hungrily. You shut your eyes and suckle. The night is still hot and sticky, and both horses stink of sweat. You can taste the fine layer of it on Stod's skin.
"How's that taste, bitch? You like that? Make you fucking horny? Huh? You wanna wank that pathetic little prick to my muscles, don't you?"
You moan aloud. He shoves you away. You crash into the wall and fall to your knees. Stod laughs.
"He's got good subby reflexes."
The bed creaks as Otto stands. Apparently, the stallions intend to take turns playing with their new toy.
"Boy," he says. "Come."
You meekly stand and walk to him. He slaps a hard metal table, normally used for welding or hammering horse shoes.
"Lie down."
You turn your back to it, plant your sticky palms on the cool metal and push yourself up onto it. You lie, staring up at the rough wooden boards of the stable's ceiling. Otto walks up behind you. You can feel the edge of his massive balls brushing your hair.
"How'd you like to kiss master's ass, boy?"
You shudder, but you know what he wants to hear.
"I'd like that very much, master," you say.
Stod snorts.
"You call that begging? Here, lemme give you a sample."
Your eyes widen as the huge white muscle stallion straddles the entire table. You stare directly up at the underside of his spread thighs, his baseball sized nuts sway, smooth as silk, and his cock towers above you. Then you're presented with his huge ass cheeks.
"Start licking, bitch. If you don't satisfy me, you're not getting him."
You close your eyes and begin to run your tongue up the smooth hard curve of his huge rump cheeks. His tail swishes over your hair. His ass is clean, so there's nothing you smell or taste but sweat and raw stallion musk.
And then you gasp. Stod's fingers roll against your nipples. You roll your head back and MOAN.
"DON'T YOU FUCKIN' STOP LICKING!" he roars.
You need no more persuasion. Your lust from the afternoon comes raging back, an uncontrollable beast that possesses every cell of your body. You plunge your face deep, deep between his ass cheeks. Your tongue slurps over his tight star. And the taste is indescribable. Like the smell of sweat and sex amplified, washing over your tongue like candy.
Stod's fingers caress your belly. They trace around the edge of your navel and finally rub flat over your throbbing cock. You go wild. You suck up his ass sweat like nectar, more sweat rolling down his back and dripping onto your face.
Otto comes over.
"You ready, boy?"
"Yes! YES, PLEASE, MASTER!!"
He turns his back to you and whickers aloud as he simply sits down directly over your face. His full weight crushes you to the metal. The ass cheeks rub every inch of your face, pushing your nose sideways, smearing across your lips. Your tongue can barely keep up. Otto's ass swallows your face as he works himself down comfortably, as if your face were a dildo. You're buried in hot, sweaty, rancid darkness. A black hell of male stench you never want to leave.
At last, they let you up for air. You gasp like a drowning man. But they don't let you rest. They are gods without mercy, and you are their sacrifice. Otto straddles the table the other way, and you choke for air at his massive weight crushing your pelvis.
"Awww, am I too much for you?"
You try to answer and can only gurgle. You nod. He relents and stands back up, but then puts his hands on the table to either side of your head, smiling down at you.
"Open up, boy."
You obey. He flexes his hips. His ebony cock plunges forward, a battering ram of flesh. His piercing bruises your lips as it enters your mouth. Taste of steel and huge, warm flesh, filling you, blocking your windpipe.
"Hrrhm.....lick my piercing, boy. Worship my cock."
You groan and swirl your tongue over his cockhead as he pulls back, just inside your lips. You roll the prince albert back and forth, making Otto neigh. It echoes off the walls.
"GOD, BOY!"
You smile, warm pleasure washing through you at having pleased your master so well. He smiles down at you playfully and lowers his lips to your ear.
"One of these days I'm gonna fuck that little throat. But not too soon. My huge dick would break your neck."
"Master..." you moan.
He smiles, his lips inches from yours, mane draped across your face. But you do not try to kiss him. You know your place.
Stod grips you under the arms as Otto stands back up. He yanks you off the table and holds you in the air like a slab of meat. You gaze into his deep, lust-filled eyes. There's no compassion or love in them. Only animal hunger.
"Get the chains," he says over his shoulder.
You hear a metallic rattling. Otto strides over, giant gorgeous body rippling. He has a heavy chain in one thick fist. You see manacles dangling on the end. Your breath quickens. You can't imagine the perversions you are about to be subjected to.
Otto's lips press to your ear. His thick equine tongue worms its way over your ear, in and out and around, up and down, making you writhe and whimper. Clank..clank...and your wrists are manacled. Otto yanks you to your feet.
You know better than to try and resist, but you can't help straining reluctantly at the chain as you're led to the wall near the bed. With practiced ease, Otto slips the chains through the rings in the wall and tightens them. You are yanked down to your knees, unable to stand.
You pant as the two stallions circle you like hungry predators. Fingers press into your rump, rub your shoulders, slap your chest. It's as if they're inspecting a gelding before a race . Another moan escapes you. Otto chuckles.
"Oh yeah, he's ready."
"I'll be the judge of that," Stod snarls.
He straddles your arms so that your wrists vanish between his tree trunk thighs. He flexes those thighs as he leans against the wall, snorting hard. His massive cock slaps your face.
"Lick it," he commands.
"Y..yes, sir..." you whimper.
You nearly cum the instant your tongue connects with that throbbing, rock hard flesh. All the pent up lust from the afternoon and evening comes roaring forth. You start to cry out wordlessly as he saws his shaft laterally against the edge of your tongue, holding you by your hair and laughing.
"Yeah, I knew you'd break soon enough, little bitch slave. Such a good little whore...good little cocksucker."
He slaps you hard with his thick meat and rubs it against your lips. He gives no commands, just continues to smear his huge thick head over your lips. You can't move forward due to his grip on your scalp. You can't move back from the chains on your wrists. For maybe half a minute you are in a hellish limbo, and then you can't stand it any longer.
"Master!!!" you scream.
"What, bitch?"
"Mmm..master...p..please let me suck you off. Please! I want..I NEED your cock! Oh please sir! Please let me suck it!" you beg.
Stod smiles slowly.
"About fucking time you asked, bitch."
He rams your head forward. You were expecting it rough, but you aren't prepared for Stod's savagery. His huge, thick cock is as large as any normal draft horses. And he fucks it into your mouth with the full force of his mighty hips. Your eyes bulge. You choke. The head blasts past your choking reflex, down your throat so deep you can't breathe, even through your nostrils. Stod holds it there, throbbing like a living thing, chuckling cruelly as he watches you start to struggle in your bonds for air.
This evidently turns Otto on, because he starts to stroke himself and rub his massive balls against the back of your neck. His meat is a heavy piece of salami on your head. You're desperate for air. You stare up at Stod's huge body and cruel smile, silently begging for mercy.
Stod relents, pulling out just enough so you gasp in air, then ramming it home again.
"Though you wanted to suck it, bitch? WHERE'S THE FUCKING SUCTION?"
With tears running down your face, you obey. You suck and slurp wetly, your own saliva running down your lips and chin as he abuses your mouth, slapping your lips with his heavy balls from each fucking thrust.
He doesn't say a word, only snorts and whickers as he takes you like a stallion taking a mare. He hilts your mouth with his cock and gives a huge whinny, grinding your face into his crotch until you feel your nose crack from the pain. You can't scream, can't breathe. A thick stream of precum blasts into your stomach.
"YES!" Stod roars.
He pulls out, soaking your face with his pre, aiming his cock slit so that more lands in your hair and splats onto your chest.
It's too much. The instant he pulls out, you scream at the top of your lungs. It feels as if your cock is ripped from your body by the force of your orgasm. You've shot before, but nothing like this. It blasts out of your cock like a rocket's exhaust, soaking Stod's abs from a full foot away. You writhe and shudder and buck, flailing wildly as you scream out your orgasm.
Stod chuckles as you finish, panting and moaning and weeping from the sweet release.
"You lasted twice as long as your uncle, bitch. Which means we can have twice the fun with you."
He moves forward and rubs his abs against your face, smearing your own cum onto your cheeks and eyelids. You hear wet slurping and deep moans. The two stallions are kissing each other like lovers.
"Mmm...yeah...big black stud..."
"You like that, don't' you, Stod? Mmmm...kiss me harder"
Otto moans as Stod does so. You feel his cock stiffen. As Stod pulls back and unstraddles you, Otto seems to notice you for the first time. He nearly pounces you in raw lust. Stod's hand on your scalp is replaced by Otto's.
You gasp as he yanks your head sharply backward by it and he whispers huskily in your ear, so close his teeth rub your neck.
"I'm gonna fuck that tight little pussy ass up and down and sideways. I'm gonna fuck you until dawn. And then I'm gonna string you up and finger you and fist you and slap you and smear my sweat all over your slutty body, boy. And you're not gonna shower ANY of it off until it dries and cakes, and you stink of both of us."
Your chains are unclipped. Otto threads the chain through a roof beam and yanks you off the floor, hanging suspended in the air. He snarls at Stod, the most dominant you've ever seen him.
"Get the fucking lube!"
Stod snickers and leaves your line of sight. When he returns, he hands Otto a big tub. Otto rips the top off and dips his finger into the contents. He eyes you, rubbing the lube between his thick fingers.
"Home made, best shit in the world, boy. And guess who makes it for us?"
You realize who he means and moan again.
"That's right, boy. Our SLAVE makes the lube used to take his ass!"
He strokes his cock furiously with his lubed hand. Stod adjusts the chains on your wrists so that you fall back to your knees and your arms are spread eagled as if crucified.
"No more playing?" Stod asks Otto.
"No," Otto snarls. "And I'm first."
He stops fapping and circles you. He slaps your legs.
"Spread 'em boy!"
You do so, and scream as Otto's enormous, flared equine head ploughs past your ass cheeks, sphincter, and up your anal canal without preamble. It very quickly crashes into your prostate, and you cum again. But it keeps going. Deeper, deeper, past the entrance connecting your anus to your intestines.
"Awww..YEAH BOY!"
Otto fucks you hard and fast, his prince albert like a spur, whipping you into a frenzy of pleasure and pain. You cum again. And again. And again. Stod can't just stand by and watch. He grabs Otto around the waist and shoves his own cock up into Otto. The two massive horny stallions sweat and grunt, lost in their rut.
After a full hour of fucking, Otto lets out a huge whinny and your eyes bulge as horse cum is injected into your intestines. The pain of it burns like acid, but as more of it oozes downward into your ass, squelching around his shaft, the pain mixes with an incredible warm wet pleasure.
You grin and smirk and begin to work your ass backward around Otto's cock. Otto moans and grins back.
"You little whore," he says.
It feels good, being called his whore. He grunts as he yanks out, and you're left panting, fully relaxed. Your body is sore from head to feet, and you're barely conscious from the exhaustion.
Then Stod shoves into you. Otto mounts Stod, black horse on white. They do it all over again. Stod is even rougher and meaner than Otto. He bites your neck, his strong hands pinch and pull the flesh of your pecs. There is no pleasure. Only agony. Stod fucks you as if you were a full stallion his size. Within minutes, you're screaming..on and on...and Stod laughs and just rapes you that much harder.
Your throat goes raw from the screaming. But somehow, you cum again, as if your own body enjoys it even if all you want to do is die. Stod cums even harder than Otto, crushing your body to his muscles as he does so. He pulls out, leaking cum down your back.
Otto replaces him. The two switch off, back and forth. Otto gets a harness with a collar for his own neck and clips a chain from it down to your collar, chaining you to him while Stod rapes you for the third time. Or is it the fourth? Stod wraps a chain around your waist and clips the ends together, running a length of it to the far wall. You're now chained to both stallions.
Otto plunges his cum soaked cock back into your mouth and rides you. Taste of your own ass and a mix of Stod and Otto's cum. You can't cum any more, yet your dick throbs with dry orgasms until it's nothing but a mass of agony.
As dawn begins to lighten the sky, the two panting, sweaty stallions are finally satiated. All the chains are removed and you collapse to the dirt, unable to move, barely able to breathe.
Stod empties a bucket of ice cold water onto your naked body. You barely feel it. Otto pulls you up by your collar. He has a scrubbing brush in his hand. Stod comes over with a sponge lathered in soap.
The brush is harsh on your skin, but the soap feels good until it touches your ass. The cuts and tears make it sting and you yelp and try to pull away until Stod slaps you. The two huge stallions clean you like a horse after a hard run. They plant slow kisses on your skin and pet your hair. They call you a good filly, a good bitch, a good boy.
You glow from the praise. You slowly relax into the trance of their cleaning and kissing.
"He's pretty worn out, Stod. What say we just let him sleep here today?"
Stod considers it.
"Just this once. You hear that, bitch?"
You try to say 'yes, sir,' but it comes out as a harsh croak. You nod. Stod picks you up. The two stallions lie down on the creaking, bare, filthy mattress. You are soon sandwiched between their two huge sweaty bodies. Their heavy breathing begins to lull you to sleep. Their hands caress your skin.
"Master," you whisper.
"Yes, boy?"
"What is it, bitch?"
"I love you."