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The Drunk and the Stallion Written by Amethyst Mare

Leaves rustled across the bare stable yard, scudding along the ground and stirring up the gravel, carried by a bitter wind. Work on the yard had been completed hours earlier and cheers from the white house boasted a celebration to which all friends had been invited, a direct contrast to the peace of the deserted yard. By the feed shed, a fox scratched, glancing about warily as he scavenged for edible scraps, carelessly left behind for one such as him to discover. He scarpered from the raucous laughter emanating from the house, brush stiff and straight behind him, and disappeared into the night, leaving the drunken party-goers to continue without a friendly fox scream.

A chestnut stallion stumbled from the house, supported by a petite brown and white mare who fussed over him like a dam with her foal, taking his arm with two, delicate paws. He brushed her off and swore under his breath, the world swaying sickeningly around him: it had been a bad idea to drink that night.

The skewbald mare tossed her mane over her shoulder and huffed at him as he reeled against the wall, clinging on to the rough surface for the semblance of support.

"It's your own damn fault, Sean," she snapped, rubbing the corner of her eye in tiny circles to relieve the tiredness there. "Go and sober up, dunk your head in a water barrel or something. Sit down in the cool. It's too hot in there for anyone to breathe."

"Sure, girl," he groaned, leaning heavily against the wall, little particles of grit digging into his palm. "An' I'll be back soon enough, don' you worry now, darling." She snorted.

"Sure you will, Sean, sure you will," she rubbed the back of her paw over her eyes, smearing her smoky eye make-up that had been so carefully applied, the long, fake lashes comically askew. "Damn stallion can't even remember my name by now," she added in an undertone, shoving him towards the yard. "Git on, off with you, colt!"

The chestnut blew her a sloppy kiss but the door had already slammed closed, the harsh noise hurting his ears so that he flattened them back slightly, rubbing the side of his head. Staggering through the open gate that linked the small, unkempt house garden to the yard, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the shadowy shapes and colours that rocked before his gaze. Blue. The water barrels were blue. He had to wash his face like...like the mare said. Clean up.

There was a water barrel at the corner of the dirty white block of stables on the upper end of the yard and, somehow, the unsteady stallion made his way over to it. He collapsed over the barrel with a weary sigh, as if the walk over had drained him entirely, and dipped his paw in the cold water, splashing some on to his muzzle half-heartedly. What was the point in cleaning up now? Nothing was going to happen between him and that mare, he knew it. It had been such a stupid idea to have so much to drink. Alan had plied him with the stuff, mocking him when he was unable to keep up with the palomino horse's number of shots, glasses of liquor... The drinks had blurred into one. Stupid, so stupid.

With his face clean and a measure of sobriety returned, Sean wandered through the yard, not yet feeling well enough to return to the party. Some of the horses looked curiously over the bottom half of their stable doors, eyes bright as they anticipated a late night treat or scratch across their withers. Sean paused at his rescued racehorse, the smart, bay gelding that was blind in one eye, to pat his nose fondly.

"We'll go out tomorrow, we will, my boy," he crooned, brushing the horse's forelock out of its eyes. "Go out for a gallop down the railway line track. You'll like that, won't you? We'll have a blast, a right good blow out."

The horse blew warm air into his face as if he understood every word and Sean believed he did, smiling as he walked away to continue his aimless wander. The yard was a very different world during the night, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life - it was a lazy, sleepy time, even if winter's chill nipped at his coat. Early November. What a horrible time of year to work. He yearned for the warm, summer mornings where he could take his horse out for a hack before even beginning work, dishing out the morning feeds when the sun was up rather than still weakly rising, if that.

He stopped, swishing his long tail that had grown all the way down to his fetlocks; he needed to get it trimmed again. Rubbing away an itch behind his ear, Sean rested a paw on the arena fence and wondered what had drawn him down here, away from even the horses. It was a bare, cold patch in the equine warmth of the stables. Another slave mare (a stroppy black) had been bred earlier that day and the breeding stand, complete with immobilising bondage, had been left in the middle of the arena, perhaps forgotten by Alan or himself. Sean couldn't quite remember. But he had more fun breeding the two-legger mares than he used to - it had certain added pleasure for him. Oral pleasures, that is. Anal, if the mare was fit for it.

Slipping the catch on the gate, he paced inside and his hooves sank into the moist sand, which was scattered with wisps of half-eaten hay; an empty water bucket stood at the far side. He went over to the breeding device and ran his paw over the top, patting it as he would a horse, though not understanding his own actions. One could put it down to intoxication.

"And you see here, boy," he said loudly as if instructing a new stable hand. "You see here, boy, you have to get the mare across this...thing...contraption, an' she'll be nice and tied in. She won't be able to move an' the stallion-boy can 'ave 'is way with her."

"But how does the mare get on to the contraption, Sean?" Another voice asked out of the darkness. Without thinking - his brain was functioning more slowly than normal and his surroundings had a dreamlike quality to them - Sean stepped forward and rested the upper half of his body awkwardly over the stand.

"Like this," he told his observer. "She puts her paws...here...an' her legs...here....an' - oi!"

Somebody grabbed his paw and fastened a leather cuff around it, dragging it into place on the stand so that he could not yank it back. And before he could even stimulate his tired body into unfastening the cuff himself, the strange 'other' fur had secured his previously free paw too, leaving him helpless and forced to lie across the stand like...like a mare to be bred.

"What the hell is going on?" He yelled, coherency suddenly returning to him. "Who's there? Fucking show yourself!"

An all too familiar palomino shape stepped into his line of sight and Sean swore under his breath.

"Alan! You bastard!" He snapped. "Let me out right fucking now, you lazy arsehole!"

"But why would I do that, Sean?" He laughed wickedly, swaying slightly from side to side; he had had a few too many to drink too, or so it seemed. "Lighten up, have some fun! Or I can just have my fun..."

The chestnut stallion writhed, swore and kicked like a foal being approached for the first time, but his drunken contortions were not enough to prevent Alan from grabbing his fetlocks and cuffing them to the device with shocking ease. With all four limbs bound, Sean was helpless to prevent the prankster stallion from lashing his midriff down also, leaving him completely immobile. Sean craned his neck to look back and grunted in pain, his body pulling at the restraints.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Alan?" He muttered, his muzzle flushing with shame.

"Just having some fun, you silly bugger," Alan chuckled, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. "And just a few pictures..." The camera-phone snapped a shot, the click audible in the quiet.

Sean thrashed and heaved but no amount of movement could dislodge his body from the tight, expertly administered restraints or even tip over the stand. Sighing and hanging his head, he let his forelock flop into his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. He was sure worse had happened to others and he would get back at Alan when the opportunity presented itself...by gods, he would!

He swore and cursed fluently as, to further humiliate him, Alan yanked down the bound stallion's smart jeans and boxers, leaving them stretched between his knees; his legs were spread apart, 'hugging' the stand, so they were unable to go any further down. Snorting and pinning his tail over his rump, Sean closed his eyes as the flash on the camera-phone blinked again, further documenting his degradation. The things he would do to Alan when he got hold of him...

"Fuck you, bastard," he groaned. "You've had your fun, let me up now."

"Nah," Alan grinned, pocketing his phone. "I think you can 'chill' there for a little while. Have fun!"

"Alan, you're not serious? Alan - wait! Get back here!" Sean yelled, but the palomino was already gone, flicking his ghostly white tail in the moonlight, forgetting to close the gate behind him.

"Damn him," Sean said, shivering.

He was suddenly aware of how cold it was and he resettled his tail, hoping to cover his rump a little more with the thick hair. It did no good, however, and Sean hoped fervently that Alan would return quickly, just wanting to psyche him out - make him believe that he was going to be left alone in the cold, dark arena for hours. Sighing quietly, he rested the side of his muzzle on the padded stand and listened to the sounds of the night; if he had not been so positioned and bound, it would have been quite relaxing to sit there in the peaceful yard. The gate creaked and the stallion turned his head anxiously, giving a frightened nicker as a dark shape slipped into the arena.

"Who's there?" He asked nervously, licking his lips. "Alan? What are you doing now? Just me up, all right, mate? Come on now."

Nobody answered.

Twitching and praying that he was not about to have an even worse practical joke pulled on him, Sean twisted from side to side, desperate to work out what was going on. He almost laughed aloud when a familiar nose bumped against his side, the stallion snuffing at the strange scents on his clothes.

"Basil!" Sean chuckled. "Got out of your stall again, did you? That bastard must have forgotten to slide the bottom bolt. What the heck are you doing in here though?" He asked the piebald stallion, who stood at about sixteen hands.

The horse snorted, brushing his lips against Sean's clothes. Sean dropped his muzzle and left the horse to his investigations, thinking that he would do no harm. That was until the curious Basil's muzzle touched his displayed rear and the horse nipped the flesh, startling a yelp from Alan.

Fuck! He thought with wide eyes, white rims of fear showing around the edge. I'm on the breeding stand! He thinks I'm a mare! He thinks....oh hell!

"No!" Sean shouted. "Fuck off, Basil! Oi! Guys! Guys! Help me! Get down here now! Alan, wherever the fuck you are, get the hell down here!"

But nobody answered and Basil nuzzled under his tail, investigating what he was to claim. He had been led to the breeding stand many times before and the piebald only understood one meaning behind it. Sean's objections counted for nothing.

Groaning, Sean drew in a deep breath, preparing to scream as loudly as his lungs would allow him. Basil shoved his muzzle forward though and swiped his tongue between Sean's tail hole and his balls, searching for the hole that allowed him entry. The breath rushed out of Sean again and he bit down on his lower lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood washed into his mouth. Coming from a four-legged horse, it should not feel so good, but his body trembled when the stallion's tongue circled his anus, flicking over the tight bud several times in quick succession as if the horse was trying to taste a mare, test her readiness. He didn't know that a stallion lay before him.

"Basil...go away," he said weakly. "I'll never hear the end of it if someone catches me like this. Please, fuck off, Basil, please."

The stallion flicked one ear forward and then back to a relaxed position again, ignoring Sean's quiet pleas. The chestnut was torn. Did he scream again and summon help? Or did he stay quiet and hope that it would be over soon? Help and humiliation or pain and silence? There would still be humiliation either way: oh the choices... He sighed and quivered, the stallion's tongue scraping against his tail hole, which he flexed nervously, keeping it as tight as possible to keep out the warm, moist tongue assaulting the ring. He couldn't even hear anything from the house and he knew that they would be busy for hours yet... One more try, just in case Alan was still around.

"Alan!" Sean screamed, coughing as his lungs refused to sustain the shrill, fearful note. "Get back over here now! I fucking mean it! Basil got out! If you're there, get back!"

He was met with only silence. Nobody was going to come. Hanging his head in resignation, Sean trembled with fear, terror making him colder than any bite of chill wind could have done. Basil nipped and nuzzled his exposed rear as Sean clenched his teeth together hard, refusing to make a sound that would betray his situation. If he was lucky, he could get out at the end of the humiliation without an outward scratch, though his pride would take a hit.

When Basil backed off, Sean waved off the flicker of relief, knowing that the worst was on its way. The bound stallion huffed anxiously and clamped his tail down, a futile barrier against Basil's attack. The feral horse whinnied and pranced, stirring up the sand around his large hooves, peeling his upper lip back from his teeth to sift through the scents in the air, although he had no alluring mare to mount this time: that did not matter to this stallion. He reared up with a grunt and landed heavily upon Sean's back, half-crushing the smaller anthro beneath his bulky weight. Sean tensed up and looked away into the dark night, counting the stars above in hope of a distraction, pretending that he was not really there.

Something fleshy and smooth jabbed eagerly against Sean's rear and he tried to move away, hopelessly, his breath suddenly coming in shallow, short gasps as if he could not get enough air into his lungs. The stallion on his back was incredibly heavy and, if he had not been in bondage, he would have been rendered unable to move anyway beneath the powerful, lustful beast. They had always commented on the strength and virility of the stallions; two-legged stallions had nothing in comparison to a normal horse. The thick pole of flesh rubbing between his ass cheeks bore testament to the size difference and Sean quailed inwardly, imagining being torn apart from the inside. But some of the mares seemed to enjoy it...

Pressing aside his target's tail with the sheer mass of his body, Basil edged his hindquarters closer to the stand, bouncing his cock against his belly before it touched something that sank in very slightly. Sean gave a strangled howl as the flared head of that cock violated his passage and the stallion, sensing that he had hit his mark, thrust forward sharply, brutally breaking through Sean's defences. The chestnut whimpered and shook his head from side to side, unsure if the trickle of something wet around his tail hole was the horse's pre cum or his own blood. He supposed a bit of both.

The pain of having the cock forced into him thrust by thrust was excruciating and it was all Sean could do to refrain from screaming and crying out to vocalise his hurt. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as the horse's balls slapped against his, showing how deep the stallion had been able to penetrate him. Sean groaned and breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring sharply as the beast above him grunted, thrusting powerfully into his abused, torn depths. And, as he bucked into his 'mare' Sean jerked in his bindings; the pain giving cock had hit something more sensitive within his tail hole, something that sent a spark of surprising pleasure rocketing through his system.

But the pleasure was gone as quickly as it had appeared and the stallion nipped at the back of his head, though Sean whipped his head around and glared at him. The stallion was unfazed and nuzzled Sean's cheek affectionately, pumping his hindquarters forward and scraping the head of his cock against that sensitive spot that made the chestnut pant and writhe, forgetting the pain and violation for but a very brief moment.

"Bastard," Sean swore at him quietly. "I know it's not your fault you - ah! - fucking fool, but you are a fucking bastard too."

Whether the stallion agreed with him or not was not vocalised, as the horse jabbed forward more roughly, catching Sean's flaxen mane between his teeth and yanking at it as he thrust himself towards climax. Sean moaned against his will as he was pressed into the thick padding, used to satisfy the horse's primal urge to breed and no more, although the experience was taking longer than what he had seen before with a feral horse. Perhaps the different stimulation had assisted him in terms of stamina but Sean dreaded being filled with sticky horse semen. At least he already stank of horses, so a different scent would not be immediately obvious.

Basil huffed and stilled suddenly, spilling his cum into the loosened orifice with a groan of what Sean supposed was equine pleasure. The feral horse flagged his tail proudly, cum travelling up his cock from his round balls, and grunted contentedly, happy to fill his 'mare' with his seed. Under his barrel of a belly, Sean hissed between his teeth, feeling pressure in more than one place as he was filled; his cock had half-swollen from its sheath and pressed painfully against the bench, which had only been designed for mares and had no room for a cock.

Like most stallions, Basil dismounted immediately after he was done, his softening cock hanging beneath his belly, showing Sean in all too graphic detail just what had been inside him. He felt as if his tail hole would never tighten up again and, with the last ounce of his strength, Sean tucked his tail back over the throbbing hole, protecting it from the bitter cold at least. Exhausted, Sean dropped his muzzle down limply and half-faded from consciousness, blinking at the darkness that shifted and changed shape in front of his tired, uncertain gaze."

Shush," a disembodied voice hushed him. "Shush, you're okay."

"I-I'm okay?" He questioned, stumbling over his words; his lips seemed to have turned numb and his tongue was too large for his mouth. "How...how do I look okay? Do you think I'm okay? I'm not okay!"

"You are okay," the voice, now decidedly feminine, insisted. "If I can take it, so can you."

What? Sean thought through a foggy haze of whirling thoughts. Who's that? What?

He raised his muzzle slowly, though all he wanted to do was lay his head down and go to sleep, and snorted in confusion; there were spots dancing before his muzzle. Black spots on a white coat...

The appaloosa slave mare stroked his muzzle gently, going around to his side and pulling his jeans and underwear back up to preserve his dignity, although she was naked from head to hoof. She undid his bindings with deft paws that worked quickly as Sean struggled to comprehend what was happening now more than he did when the stallion was raping him. She put her arm around his shoulders and tugged him sideways, her other paw ready to grab on to him.

"Come on," she encouraged him gently. "Slide off to this side. I'll catch ya."

Trusting her for some unknown reason, Sean did as she said and allowed his body to slip to the right, where she stood, and half-swung his hooves beneath him. She caught him, just as she'd said, and helped him stand up straight, a good head and shoulders taller than her. Sean leaned upon her as the world spun and fumbled over his words.

"Where're we -"

"Shush, come with me."

Unwilling to argue in his current state, Sean allowed himself to be led like a foal up the stable yard and to the staff room, which faced away from the house. As if she was well versed in the layout of the room, the mare sat him down in one of the old, creaky chairs and made herself busy in the small kitchen. In a matter of seconds, she had put the kettle on to boil and was dropping a tea bag into a chipped, red mug, milk and sugar containers in her paws.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Both...please," he answered after a pause, watching her about her work.

The mare hummed a tune to herself and clinked a silver teaspoon against the edge of the mug as she stirred in the sugar and milk, leaving the silverware in the sink when it was no longer needed.

"Here you go," she murmured, passing the steaming mug to him. When he did not take it straight away, she lifted his paws and wrapped them around it. "Take it. It'll steady ya."

Nodding, Sean leaned back and sipped the warm tea, feeling the warmth seep down his throat and into his belly, warming him from the inside. His rear felt very sore and he shifted uncomfortably in the chair, unable to find a position that felt 'okay' in the slightest way. To distract himself, he glanced at the mare attentively standing a step to his left.

"Why did you help me?" He asked, unable to meet her eyes. "After...everything."

She pursed her lips and rested a paw on her stomach; his eyes widened as he realised that she was beginning to show - her pregnancy with the earlier breeding, three months ago, with the four-legged stallions. He had had a part in that and...and in other things.

"You were nice to me," she said simply. "You came in to my stable a few times since we met and you never hurt me, not like the others."

"I used you..."

"I'm a slave. That's what happens."

Her matter of fact attitude astounded him and he fell into silence, brooding over events and 'her'. Sighing, he made as if to lean forward and cried out sharply.

"Are you hurt?" The mare's eyes narrowed in worry.

"I just got fucked up the arse by a bastard stallion," he said wryly, finding a scrap of his old self in the situation. "I guess I'll live if I'm still alive now."

"Let me see. Stand up."

Running his tongue over his bitten lip, Sean swallowed and stood up, waiting for the mare to take a look. He thought that she might be better versed in injuries that resulted in being mounted by stallions. Gently, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his fetlocks, his boxers soon following suit. She paused at the head of his cock, which had failed to retreat fully into the sheath, but crouched behind him to lift his tail carefully out of the way for inspection. She probed the outer edge of his tail hole carefully and slowly slid a finger inside - Sean tensed up but she soothed him with her free paw - to check through feel alone. He had not seen such a kind side to her before.

"There's a little blood," she informed him, letting his tail drop and walking away to wipe her paws. "But I think you'll only be sore for a few days. Think of it like...bruising. You'll need to keep the area clean too and try not to sit down too much until it stops hurting. You can lie down instead."

"I can help with something now though...if you like?" She asked him as an afterthought, a shy blush creeping up her neck. Sean looked at her, nonplussed.

"Help with what? I mean, thank you, but help with...oh."

The slave mare folded sinuously to her knees and nuzzled Sean's balls, lapping over them with the flat of her tongue to cover them in a slick coat of saliva. Her paw massaged his sheath confidently as shook tongue one ball very carefully between her lips, rolling it back and forth softly as Sean moved his hips forward in silent encouragement. Wondering at this strange turn of events, Sean rested his paw on her head rather tentatively and gave an appreciative moan; she really did have a talented muzzle.

Releasing the chestnut's balls and moving around to his rear, the slave leaned in close to him and bathed his twitching tail hole in a series of very soft licks, soothing the hurt that the stallion had caused. Sean's paw groped back until he found the chair and he clung on to it tightly as if it was the only stable and certain object around. He fought a nicker of pleasure and unconsciously lifted his tail high, giving the appaloosa easy access to what he now considered his most intimate, private region.

But it felt good.

"I'm going to have to catch that bloody stallion," Sean blurted out awkwardly; the mare giggled and poked his leg.

"Oh, shush," she told him, pumping her paw along his cock. "I'm showing you how things can feel good here and your mind is on that? Someone else can get him. Shush now."

As if she was anticipating a treat of some kind, the slave kneeled in front of him once more, lapping along his hard and throbbing cock, which had risen to full mast under her tender rimming. She licked her lips and dived down on to his dick, taking the full length into her muzzle and throat with such skill that only an equine slave could master; no gag reflex was a bonus for this mare. Moaning with more pleasure than he had experienced previously that night, Sean twined his fingers with her mane, snorting and whinnying his very vocal approval.

Sliding her lips down to the base of Sean's cock, the appaloosa curled her tongue around as much of his member as she was able to, only pulling back when the urge to take a breath overpowered her. Imagining the taste of his cum and the pleasure that she was giving a stallion that she cared more about than anyone else that she had encountered, she suckled all the more eagerly, her ears flicking back and forth. Her paw found its way back between his legs and she caressed his balls with a lover's touch, rolling each between her thumb and forefingers in a way that made the chestnut buck his hips.

"S...Slave," he stuttered, only knowing how to call her as she had always been called. "I'm going to cum."

He had expected her to pull away at this - what mare would swallow cum willingly? He wanted to give her the choice this time - but, to his surprise, she pulled back a little, keeping half his cock between her lips and stroking a paw along the remainder of the shaft. She sucked and licked as if there was nothing else that she would desire more, her eyes half-closed and a low murr rising from her throat. When he spurting his cum into her mouth, she gulped and swallowed every drop with a particular relish, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

Panting, Sean stroked her mixed black, white and grey mane, lifting it off her neck that was a little damp with sweat. She blushed and looked up at him affectionately, wrapping a paw around his leg as if she was afraid that the stallion would pull away from her like the majority of feral horses had in the past.

"What's your name?" Sean asked suddenly. "I never thought to ask you before."

"It's Skylark," she said quietly, self-consciously rubbing at an invisible spot on her arm and running her tongue along the underside of his cock to catch a stray drop of cum. "My name is Skylark."

"Skylark," he repeated, testing the sound of the name on his lips. "Sky. You're coming home with me, Sky, sweetheart."