FSE

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The lift headed towards the 9th floor without stopping, its progress efficient and swift. The stallion grunted in disappointment; trust the lift to work the one day he most wanted it to break down. He had no idea what the meeting might be about, but that didn't stop him guessing. Danger. Intrigue. A chance for a half decent orgy in a Turkish bath house while being oiled by nubile waif waisted fox chicks.

Probably going through the results of his latest staff engagement survey, he sighed internally. Or another ticking off for wasting precious bullets.

He could think of a couple of places he wouldn't mind wasting some bullets.

The doors opened serenely, and he passed through another automated security checkpoint manned by another dim looking bull with a sideways grin on his muzzle. The bull gave him a mocking salute and pointed him to the Director's suite.

"Hope you've got a spare pair of balls at home Sir..."

The stallion rounded on his tormentor, and was about to launch into a tirade about undisciplined behaviour and mocking a senior officer when he realised who it was. He grunted instead, and the bull grinned a notch wider.

"That's the spirit Sir...just like I remember..."

That was the last memory the stallion needed before facing his boss. Stuff his boss; first he had to get past her gatekeeper. He would be lucky to manage that without getting skinned alive.

The double doors opened, and he found himself face to face with his nemesis.

"Well! Colt...nice of you to drop by. Our mistress does so like it when you come round for a chat."

"Cut it out Miss Honeybadger. I'm not in the mood."

"Is that what you say to all the girls when you get them into bed and they find Mr Floppy isn't getting perky today?"

The stallion ground his incisors, slamming down the desire to pull the insufferable honeybadger into a wild hard kiss that reduced her to a whimpering needy wreck. She could not possibly resist the sheer masculine power of his kiss, could she? And yet...somehow, she remained disturbingly aloof in spite of his best attempts and flirting all these years. Maybe the angry contempt was a mask for her deep seated need for his cock, something she hid under an icy façade. So far he hadn't found the way to melt the ice...perhaps another try?

"Why can't you call me 'Stud', Honeybadger. It is my first name you know."

"Colt, if I tried to call you 'Stud', my brain would explode from the sheer inane wrongness. Colt seems more appropriate. Or perhaps I should use the same terms our boss does?"

Now he was intrigued.

"Oh?"

"Hmm...Knucklehead, That stupid Horse You Know The One I Mean, Captain Brainfart..."

"You wound me Honeybadger..."

He dropped his head, and his ears and tail, the perfect picture of a meek stallion hurt and crushed by her torments. It was the only tack he hadn't tried so far. It seemed to have some effect though.

"Ohh...look...Colt...I'm sorry, I mean..."

"No...It's ok..."

"No, really...look, I...I do kind of fancy you a little, it's just...being so brave and fearless and all, well...I don't want to get involved with someone who may be dead tomorrow and..."

He raised his head finally, catching a glint in her eye. It was incredibly sexy; his cock slid from its sheath, tenting out his pants in an obvious yet reassuringly bulky bulge.

"Look...the boss wont be back for a while, she has gone to brief the Minister...we have some time..."

Suddenly the stallion gave a whinny as he felt a deftly placed hand stroke his bulge. It was all happening too fast, but he was used to that. The ladies couldn't resist what he had.

Miss Honeybadger reached for his hand, pulling the startled stallion into the main office. His boss' office; a perfectly ordered space complete with exquisite furniture and antique rugs. The secretary stepped back with a coy smile, sitting on the edge of the desk and winking at the stallion.

"I've always wanted to know what you had...go on, show me Colt...or should I say...'stud'"

With a whinny of triumph, he unbelted, tossing his Walther PPK to the rosewood drinks cabinet by his side, and slowly slid his pants down his muscular thighs. Miss Honeybadger maintained the same look, her grin if anything taking on a slightly sardonic edge. He ignored it, concentrating on impressing his latest conquest. He couldn't believe it was finally going to happen after all this time. All it took was displaying a little vulnerability; who knew the metrosexual touch would work.

Then the final unveiling, as his Calvins joined his pants. He stood, erect and proud, waiting for the inevitable applause.

There was silence, eerie, disconcerting silence.

"Hmmm...not bad, I must admit. Decent length, pretty good thickness. And I like a good mottling, and a nice wide flare too I see. Have to admit Colt, though you are gullible, you aren't badly hung for a dumb horse."

"Hey! What the fuck...?"

There was a flash, and he realised the secretary had pulled out a camera and taken an impromptu shot of his junk.

"The girls on Level 6 didn't think I could get a shot of you, but I knew my Colt. Thick as two short planks and about as much use."

Now he was burning with embarrassment, but for some reason, his cock became even harder at the humiliation. A spurt of pre dribbled from the tip, falling in a single line of disappointment to the priceless Bokhara carpet under his hooves.

"Oh my Colt...did you just...did you just leak at the thought of being humiliated?"

"No!"

"Oh fuck, yes you did! You...you like being humiliated don't you..."

"No, fuck off you mad bitch, this is..."

"Wait...what are those marks on your sheath and balls?"

The stallion looked down, noticing the red raw outline of the scratches left by the Gretchen. That lynx had really done some damage.

"Just claw marks..."

Now Miss Honeybadger was openly laughing, her chest moving in heaving gulps.

"Oh my God! You really are crap in bed!"

"No, that's a lie! She just got...a bit enthusiastic..."

"No, its ok Colt, really. I mean...I can imagine, a nice kitty...disappointed...unsatisfied..."

"I always satisfy my ladies thank you very much!"

"Let me guess...hmmmm, lost your stiffy? No...I can imagine...even better..."

The secretary leaned back on the desk a little, her eyes becoming unfocussed. She felt all warm...and one paw reached absentmindedly for her crotch, stroking through the soft cotton of her Yves Saint Laurent.

"Naked stallion...all, hard and drippy..."

"The fuck?"

"You give her a clumsy muzzlejob, teeth scraping her clit and making her yell and pull your mane..."

"What are you doing? I don't even..." for the stallion, incomprehension was giving way to anger, and embarrassment...as well as a large dose of shameful arousal.

"You try to get her bra off, but the catch is too difficult, and you manage to break it and ruin a perfectly good Victoria's Secret ..."

"I can't believe this..you're actually..." the stallion was almost stuttering in rage now.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh fuck yesssssss.....then the final moment, a fuming kitty, still wanting that thick piece of horsemeat though...prepared to overlook your clumsiness for a taste of that in her quim...but then...ohhhhhhh fuck yeah....then....."

"...you're actually getting off on imagining me being a lousy fuck???"

"Ohhhhhh then you crush her a little as you spread her legs, your thick flare touches her pussy and...ohhhh fuck so close....then.....you cum.....soooooo awkward..and she claws your package in frustration.....your useless cock spurting all over her coat...ohhhh yes....yes...yes....fuck....yes.....ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

He just stood, watching his secretary lose herself in an orgasm in a very Miss Honeybadger way, her body seemingly under complete control and only a brief flick in her ears betraying her pleasure. Then she looked him in the eyes with a glint of amused evil.

"Never thought you could make me cum Colt...I'm amazed, but you found a way."

"You bitch!"

The honeybadger stood with languid grace, smoothing down her skirt as she walked to stand right up close with the mortified stallion. He still had his cock out, drooling and twitching in the air.

"Not very nice. By the way, I've got a boyfriend. He's a bull, a Royal Marine, with a mighty fine cock and a set of balls bigger than this building. He knows how to fuck, thanks all the same Colt. I wouldn't fuck you if the safety of the Realm depended on it. Besides...I don't want to be next."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

She kissed him gently on the nose.

"Awww....let me spell it out for you Colt. Lets see...remember the lioness?"

"Yes, Sabine."

"Yes, and what happened to her?"

"Um...the Russians shot her, in Istanbul."

"Yes. And Moirag, the assistant to the station head in Hong Kong?"

"Ahh, thrown from the cable car by that triad thug?"

"Now were getting somewhere. And...Lisa? Tamara? Vanessa?"

"Um...eaten by sharks, poisoned by the North Koreans, trampled by wildebeest....hey, wait a minute..."

"Yep, now you get it. Every girl you fuck ends up dead Colt. Face it."

"Face what?" His nose quivered a little, as the sexy temptress next to him reached for his aching stallionhood.

"This magnificent piece of horsemeat is cursed. Your cock is cursed Colt...you have The Deathcock, and I don't want to be next."

She gripped his horsehood, savouring the feel for a moment. He was kind of cute, in a lost puppy kind of way. Her hand stroked once, just once.

"Whinny!"

A sudden shudder went up the stallion, culminating in his balls, and suddenly he erupted, spraying horse seed all over the office. His boss' office.

At the scent of horse cum, Miss Honeybadger reached her own unexpected climax.

"Ohhhhh yesssssss...that's my Colt. Soooooo sub-par...."

And with a final wink she walked out the door to her own desk. The stallion just stood, head bowed, not wanting to believe. He gripped his wilting cock, trying to deny the reality.

"You aren't cursed are you old pal....tell me it isn't so..."

His cock didn't answer, except to wilt a little more. His secretary did however.

"You can ask our boss if you like. She will be up in about two minutes; the main desk just buzzed, she returned from the Minister's office early."

The stallion was struck dumb, staring at the office floor. And the antique oak desk before him, now decorated with the same white lines also covering the even more antique rug.

"I'd clean that up if I were you."