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Paying Her Way

Written by Amethyst Mare (Arian Mabe)

Sean's lips turned down in a frown as he mucked out his seventh stable of the day. The pitchfork froze to his paws and he had been forced to uncover a ragged pair of bright purple gloves to ward off the cold. There was a hole in the little finger of the left one and he scowled at it as it stared him down, mocking his attempts towards warmth. The gloves did little to improve his mood as he wheeled the barrow out to the muck heap, dumping yet another load of soiled straw and dung at the precipice. It was a mess, quite frankly, straw piled high and spreading as if it wished to claim the yard for its very own. He sighed and eyed it distastefully. It would have to be at the very tail end of the day, or perhaps during his lunch break, but, at some point, the muck heap would require taming.

Turning to face the stables with a groan, he swished his tail, agitated. There were ten more stable boxes to go, alongside the rest of the work he had left to do. A hole in his jodhpurs glared starkly, smack across the knee, and he picked at it, unwillingly breathing in the cold air raking his lungs with the sharpness of a hoof pick digging out mud.

He scowled. Even with one of the other lads - a strange lizard anthro with slick, green markings, informally known as 'Keon' - jaunting off on his holidays, he did not receive any more pay than normal. Sean shook his head, flaxen mane sticking to his neck, which shone with sweat, his chestnut coat dark. Why did Keon get to go off and have fun while he was stuck at the yard? There was the same amount of work to do and not enough time to complete it regardless of who was there and who was not. Alan had it easy. He begged off at the end of the day with a little flick to his cream tail. It was easy if you did not care about your job and had someone else to rely on. Someone like Sean.

The chestnut equine heaved a sigh, breath frosting in the air, and paced back into the stable to tie up a well stuffed hay net and fill the water bucket. Fresh water always seemed a bit of a waste to the youngsters and he begrudged emptying the previous day's aqua vitae every morning, spilling it down the legs of his jodhpurs. Since one old stallion, a crafty bastard, had shown them how to dunk their hay in the water, leaving it to soak, they had all started doing it. Only then, once they had had their fill of soaked hay, they deigned to drink from the bucket at all and stared over their half-doors with forlorn eyes, begging for just a little glass of water, please.

Swallowing his gnawing belly, snarling for sustenance, Sean swept the stable clean, the coarse rasp of the broom soothing in its rhythm. Money was an issue and sleep even more so, though the sleep issue and long hours would be rectified once the holiday-goer returned, hopefully refreshed. Money, on the other paw... He flattened his ears to his skull in distaste. Money was hard to come by. There were bills to pay and, truth be told, he was rather second guessing the sustainability of his most recent 'bill', so to speak.

"'Morning!"

Alan sauntered up with a grin, his palomino coat shining in the winter sunshine. The stallion grunted a reply, hunching further into his worn green gillet, the long fleeced sleeves of his top doing what they could to keep out the cold. They did not help all that much. Alan clapped him on the shoulder and he shrugged the bright equine off, unwilling to be Billy best mates with him when the horse was being such an obstinate prick about work. Did he not have better things to do than pester him during mucking out? Was he already done? How could he have finished already?

The palomino stallion took no note of the snub, tail swishing merrily.

"Where's that spotted mare gone then?"

Alan peered into the stable behind Sean as if he thought the stallion was hiding her from him. He had gone without the pleasure of her warm muzzle for too long, at least in his mind. Gulping - it was going to come to light sooner or later - Sean shook his head, focusing hard on shovelling muck into the barrow.

"Not here," he grunted when Alan did not leave after a period of silence. "She's not here."

Sweeping his mane back, Alan puffed cold air from his nostrils like a dragon, squinting to see the condensing moisture disappear before his muzzle. If he had not been so peeved, Sean would have laughed at his antics, his idiocy. Simple things for simple minds, that was the saying. But sometimes the simple things were what made him smile the most.

Alan raised an eyebrow.

"Not here? Huh. Didn't think they'd sell her on when she was preggers."

Sean grimaced.

"They didn't either. Sell her on."

"Hey?"

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the backlash that was sure to come. He would be forgiven his little moment of insanity, infatuation, though it was doubtful that others would be so immediately accepting. Least of all Alan, of all that he knew.

"I bought her."

The palomino blinked foggily, alcohol still working its way through his system after his usual round of Monday night drinks the previous day. Realisation dawned upon him like a ray of sunlight and he stared incredulously, tail still against the back of his thighs. The stallion did not even breathe. Sean paused in his work, wondering how long he should wait before consulting further help - how long could Alan hold his breath? - eyes narrowing just a fraction in concern. It was only a few seconds later that rowdy mirth took hold, however.

"Buying a slave mare for yourself? Hah!" Alan snorted and slapped his thigh. "Mate, would you even know what to do with her? And how the hell are you gonna look after a foal too, her four-legged little foal on the way?"

Sean glared, anger seething below the surface of his usual calm exterior.

"Well then?" Alan pressed for an answer, obstinate.

"I don't know!" Sean snapped. "There was just something about this one, I had to have her. You know how it is with horses, right? The four-legged ones now."

Alan tilted his head from side to side, musing over the question. Thoughts of his own gelding, a stunning bay Warmblood, flickered through his mind and a smile graced his lips, if briefly. He wouldn't give up his feral boy for the world, even if it was still frowned upon to own a four-legged creature of one's own species, expecting illicit affairs to take place on a frequent basis between them. It was legal, if frowned upon in the public eye. Behind closed doors, there were few that outwardly objected to an anthro mating with a feral. His boy, his Barney boy, was for competing only, not for anything dodgy. No one had any illusions as to what most got up to with anthro slaves, however.

"I've fallen for my fair share of four-leggers, that is true," Alan conceded, if grudgingly. "They are a fair side easier to care for than an actual anthro slave. How on earth are you going to afford it? It's a bomb to look after them."

Sean winced: he'd hit the nail right on the head. What was he going to do? His bank account looked very sorry for himself and there was no time to take on an extra job without exhausting himself. He would wear down to the bone. Pursing his lips, he tossed the fork and spade in the wheelbarrow with a clang, setting his sights on the eighth stall of the day. The sun was as high in the sky as it would be for winter and he was already behind schedule. Alan would have to pull his weight for once.

"I'll figure something out."

*

Skylark fidgeted in the car, wearing nothing but a worn out leather bridle. Glancing sideways at her as civilisation peeled away from them, leaving open fields and farmland, he winced at its crude design. The thing did not even fit her properly, too large across the brow band. If he could have afforded it, he would have bought Skylark the fanciest bridle in the world, with all the sparkles and gemstones she desired. The slave mare was yet to discover diamonds. He smiled. What would she say when she first looked into their cold fire? She had missed out on the finer side of life and he would change that, if he had any say in the matter.

And he would have a very big say indeed, if everything went to plan.

They spoke little as he drove them further into the countryside. She pressed her nose to the window and observed with wide eyes, having seen too little of the country she had been born into. Born a slave, all she had seen of the world was the inside of a horsebox and the yards they had worked her on. Rolling fields and sweeping forestry were beyond her range of experience and the white appaloosa mare drank it all in with bated breath. Sean chuckled, though did not answer her curious glance. The little mare had much to learn.

Without warning, he slowed and took a right off the main road, following a narrow, bumpy track with a sign stating 'Barefoot Sanctuary'. Skylark squeaked and clung to the seat with both paws, grumbling her discomfort as the car jolted from side to side. A run around intended for getting to work and home again, the abused blue vehicle had seen better days and Sean held his breath as he eased the car through the pot holes. The road needed serious work and it was with some relief that he drove on to a stable yard strewn with straw, the meagre crew halfway through mucking out.

The yard was small and seemed to boast more fields than stables, populated with equines of all breeds and sizes. All were four-leggers and one particularly curious black equine with a narrow stripe down his face leaned over the white painted stable door, playing with the bolt as if planning an untimely escape. Sean smirked. He knew a few that were too quick off the mark if he forgot to kick across the bottom bolt on his own hard, monsters they were.

Skylark followed her owner's lead as he got out of the car and stretched, a lead rope swinging from one paw.

"Why are we here?" She asked innocently, tail swishing.

Sean paused. How much could he say? How much should one say to a slave? To buy himself time, he clipped the lead rope to her bridle, ignoring the reins that fell over her shoulders and down her back. They would come in more useful later and, as her bridle currently boasted no bit, a lead rope would do the job just as well. It was also a side less likely to break than the fraying, dark brown reins.

"We're here for you to pay your way, filly," he said at last. "Come now."

Skylark trotted on the end of the lead rein and picked up her hooves happily. Pregnancy suited her and the swell of her belly was clear in broad daylight, curving up from her white stomach spotted with black. Absently, Sean caressed it with the hoofed fingertips, drawing a nicker from her lips. Her lingering enjoyment at his touch was music to his ears. What was the point in an unhappy slave, he asked himself. Why, there was no point at all!

A brown cow with soft grey eyes raised her head from sweeping in front of the stables, several small piles of hay in her wake ready to be collected in the wheelbarrow. Huffing, she flicked her ears and straightened, stretching out the kinks from her back. She was older than most stable workers and clearly felt the weight of her years, edging towards an age where she should have been taking it easier. Sean nearly turned tail and fled but steeled himself to continue. It was the best chance he had for Skylark. Who knew what would happen to her otherwise?

The cow raised her paw in greeting as they approached and her muzzle broke into a smile, brightening her expression tenfold.

"You're early," the bovine smiled and spread her arms wide. "Welcome to Barefoot! I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place."

"Not at all." Sean coughed into his paw and rubbed the arch of his neck. "Bit of a drive though."

"If this little one is the filly I'm looking for, a 'bit of a drive' should not be a problem at all for you."

She hesitated, bovine tail flicking. The tufted tip was almost completely devoid of hair. Sky's eyes followed it avidly, though the mare half-hid behind Sean, wary of this strange fur that was not of her species. It was said that slaves that had not been socialised were often more comfortable around their own species, though it was the first instance of anxiety he had seen in Skylark. Sean ran his fingers through her mane reassuringly and she arched into his touch, leaning in closer.

"Please, allow us to adjourn to the office," the cow said, stepping back and gesturing with a little jerk of her head. "As for introductions, most call me Sandy. You'll have to excuse my appearance - it's been a very busy day."

"That's no problem," Sean said. "I know what it's like on a busy yard, trust me. Getting today off was a struggle."

Sandy, as she had been so named, brushed dirt off her worn jeans and strode out confidently around the side of the stable, only a few strides away. It truly was a petite yard that could have done with a hefty dose of TLC, Sean thought privately, unwilling to query its state aloud. All would soon be clarified, he was sure. The office swiftly revealed itself to be a storage container - a common feature on stable yards for tack storage - and the cow stepped inside on to the hollow floor, cloven hooves ringing out.

The container walls were lined with saddle racks and bridle hooks, stocked to the brim with various tack and rugs on a separate stand closer to the back. A desk hid just inside the door and Sandy plopped into the chair behind it with a groan, stretching out her legs to relieve tension in the muscles. The fat on her thighs squashed out to the side of the muscle, drawing attention to her plumper than average body shape, and her breasts hung large and heavy beneath a simple pink t-shirt. Though the colour clashed with her soft, brown coat, it had been chosen for workday comfort and not fashion.

She studied Skylark carefully, paying Sean less attention for the moment.

"Are you clear on why you are here?" She asked Sky, drumming her fingers upon the desk.

The desk shuddered as if it was about to topple over at any second. Skylark blinked.

"I'm here to pay my way," she answered simply.

Sandy chuckled and rubbed her throat.

"I suppose you could think of it like that," she conceded. "I see your owner hasn't explained how this works to you very well."

Skylark raised an eyebrow and studiously avoided looking at Sean, her owner. It was difficult to think of him explicitly as such.

"Does he need to?" She asked plainly: it was as clear as day to the slave mare.

"I suppose not..." Sandy's lips twisted and she fixed Sean in her fiery stare. "Do you treat all your slaves like this?"

He lifted and lowered one hoof uncomfortably, fingers curling around his forearm.

"Skylark is my first, Sandy," he mumbled, looking down. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do, if I'm to tell you the truth."

"And you haven't sough guidance?"

He shook his head, flaxen forelock falling over his eyes.

"Everyone thinks I'm nuts. But it didn't sit right with me to have her used as a breeding mare on that yard. They're treated well but...there's something different about her."

He trailed off with a nervous snort, scuffing his hooves over the floorboards lining the interior of the container. Words failed him. Sandy leaned back and locked her fingers behind her neck, little fingers grazing the bovine tuft of hair atop her head. Sean tried not to grin or let his eyes drift to it, seeing that it was in need of combing. The cow was certainly one that cared more for her cause than her appearance and he could not help but like that about her. She also wanted to make sure he was looking after Skylark properly, which was another plus.

"To clarify what is happening here today," she began, "you can see that the sanctuary is in need of additional help. There's a lot of work that needs to be done around here and we need more hands on deck to get everything taken care of."

"Do you want me to work here?" Skylark flicked her tail, confused. "I'm not sure how good I would be."

"Not quite like that, slave," Sandy held up her paw to stave off further questions. "You are experienced with feral equines, yes?"

Skylark nodded and smiled, confidence returning to her in a flash of familiarity.

"Yes, I am." She glanced down at her belly, resting a protective paw over the pregnant swell. "Better at pleasing with my muzzle and paws though, if I may be so frank, ma'am. Though I've been mounted...as you can see."

"Excellent. We can work on the second part but, to be concise," she paused as if unsure how to phrase it. "To earn money for the sanctuary, so we can continue to rescue horses in need, we need to go one step further than traditional fundraisers. Sex between feral and anthro creatures is hardly taboo now but we have an untapped market when it comes to pornography. The sex acts have always been for breeding purposes and never anything more."

Her eyes shone and she leaned forward, inching her elbows across the desk as she told of her plans.

"I will pay your owner for your use in films," she said, licking thick lips with a pink, fleshy tongue. "You may start by doing what you say you are best at - pleasing the horses with your mouth. God knows, they've been through enough that our stallions deserve a bit of pleasure where they can get it. This will be filmed and sold on, so that I may fund the farm and your owner may earn money from you."

The mare shivered and covered her breasts, placing opposite paws on her shoulders as if suddenly realising that she was exposed. There was no protecting her bare cunny, however, and she stared at the tack for a distraction. None of the tack was designed for anthro equines. She straightened, clear blue eyes meeting Sandy's with all the resilience she could muster.

"Well..." Sky squirmed under the scrutiny. "I guess it would be okay. I don't have a say in this really...do I?"

She looked back at Sean, who had allowed her to speak uninterrupted with Sandy. He rolled his shoulders helplessly and raised his paws.

"You do," he said. "You have a choice here. But I am worried that I will have to sell you to someone else if I am unable to care for you."

His tail drooped and the stallion gnawed the inside of his cheek. He felt like a failure for admitting it but it was true. He was too weak with too small a monthly pay cheque in his account to provide for Sky. He had no other way to pay for and care for his slave, for his Skylark. If she wanted to stay with him, she had no choice.

Or perhaps he was giving her the choice to stay or move on, as she pleased.

Skylark shifted her weight, muscles quivering beneath her coat. Decisions were not something that a slave frequently encountered - not when they had a choice in the matter, even if small. Twitching, she took a deep breath. Either way led to something that she was used to, but one choice had a particular added benefit that could not be ignored, if Sean was to be believed.

"Okay...I'll do it."

She stepped sideways until her shoulder bumped Sean's arm and he automatically raised it to wrap around her waist, fingers curling on to her ribcage. He brushed his lips over the top of her head in a chaste kiss.

"If it means I get to stay with Sean...my owner..." Sky gulped, tail flicking. "Then I'll do it, yes. I will."

"It's settled then!" Sandy did not allow them time to think and stood from her seat, eyes shining. "I'll fetch our first stallion for a test run today and some demo footage, just to make sure that all is suitable."

A cocky smile flitted over her blocky muzzle.

"Though, with your experience, I don't foresee any problems."

Sky blushed and huddled into Sean's embrace, nosing the lead rope for comfort. He held her tight as Sandy disappeared around the edge of the container to the stable block, clucking to one of the horses as she prepared him for what was to come. Clearing his throat, he tried to clamp down on what Sky had said about staying with him. She could be so sweet when she wanted to be. Was that who Sky truly was?

"A horse will be thinking you're getting sentimental about him now," Sean grinned shyly, ducking his muzzle.

Skylark swallowed and twisted her fingers together, glancing out the door where Sandy was fetching one of the stallions from the small stable block.

"Maybe I am."

There was no time for further conversation as Sandy called them from the yard and the equines trotted out to meet her, Sean unclipping the lead rope from Sky's bridle. For good measure, he removed the bridle too, leaving her completely exposed in the cool air; he wagered that she would not feel the chill for too long.

Sandy led out a stunning black stallion with a clip-clop of unshod hooves, the red head collar stark against his coat. There was not a drop of white on his hide, though he was of uncertain breeding, somewhere between a Warmblood and an Irish Draught, Sean suspected. It was difficult to tell with horses that did not have a passport and rescues were rarely. He sported a freeze brand across his withers to ensure he would never go unidentified again and the stallion lowered his head to whuff at the ground, nostrils flaring at the fresh scent of mare.

Tying him to an O-ring outside the stable, Sandy produced a handheld video recorder from a small, green bag and switched it on to capture the magnificence of the rescue stallion. He stomped and pawed at the ground, anxious for something to happen. Sky raised her chin defiantly, daring nerves to get the better of her when it came down to the crunch.

"Pretend I'm not even here," Sandy instructed, crouching down with the camera for a better angle.

Dropping to all fours on the paving, Sky chuckled and arched her back, thrusting her rump out to the camera in a way that made Sean's cock jump in its sheath, tip pushing out into his boxers. He willed it to settle down and looked at the stallion instead of his slave, admiring the health Sandy had coaxed back into his gleaming black coat. He was a beautiful specimen indeed.

"I'm used to being watched," she told the unblinking lens.

Licking her lips to moisten them, the mare crawled beneath the stallion, trusting that he would not kick her. She kept her rump pointed towards the camera as she cooed and ran her paws over his nearest hind leg, marvelling at his muscle. She appeared to be in her element as she nuzzled his stomach, keeping the majority of her body out of the way of any stray kicks. Sky lipped his balls expertly, testing his reaction - she did not know if he was used to this manner of attention from an anthro or not - and he reacted the same as any male equine did.

Eagerly, his cock dropped from the fleshy sheath, mottled pink and black drooling proudly into the sunlight. She coaxed it out to its full, proud length with gentle touches of her fingers on his sheath, tongue lapping languidly over his balls. Nickering, the stallion tugged at the lead rope and flicked his tail, catching Sky on the rump with the stinging tips. Though she jumped, she made no complaint as she eased her lips down the length of his cock, supporting its weight with one paw as her lips parted over the tip in an intimate kiss.

Sean groaned and self-consciously tugged at the front of his jeans, adjusting how they sat across his crotch. If Sandy had not been there, he would have dropped his trousers and taken his cock in both paws at the fine show he was being treated to. When a mare like Skylark was so sultry in her approach, it was little wonder that he and the other stable hands had taken advantage of their services at the breeding farm, even if they were not permitted to impregnate them.

That was for the studs and the studs alone.

Putting on a show for the camera, Skylark squatted and pushed a paw between her legs, fingers thrusting into her pussy. Already damp with arousal, male pheromones clouding her senses, her cunt accepted her fingers in eagerly and she thrust as if imagining a male taking her, digits rough in their urgency. Nuzzling and licking down the underside of the stallion's cock, she teased him into heightened need, enjoying the slick feel of skin beneath her lips and the power of muscle surrounding her, hind hoof stomping. She shuddered. He wanted more.

Taking the head of his cock between her lips, which were parted as widely as she was able, she slowly eased him into her mouth. The stallion grunted and pawed, hindquarters quivering as if remembering the feel of thrusting into a mare. They had no idea whether he had been used for breeding or not, given his past, but the equine understood what was going on regardless of what they did or did not know. Sky pressed her tongue to the underside of his cock and brought both paws up to the length, one dripping with her own juices, stroking as she carefully took him deeper.

Gulping on the sidelines, Sean exchanged a look with Sandy who could not stop grinning, her smile so wide that it stretched from ear to ear.

"This is gold!" She whispered, barely able to stay still and contain her excitement.

Sean bobbed his muzzle, not trusting himself to speak. His cock pressed against his boxers, only restrained by the fabric of his jeans, though he feared that that would give up at any moment. He imagined her sucking his cock, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes as he fed her every inch, pussy dripping with his cum. The foal in her belly could be his. As Sky convulsed, the head of the feral horse's cock nudging the back of her throat, he ached to be behind, ramming into her cunt with all the force and dominance of a wild stallion of the plains.

He smirked, rubbing the back of his paw across his crotch as discreetly as he was able. Maybe later?

Sky pushed her muzzle down on the stallion's thick shaft as if she had been doing it her whole life - which she had. She had experience and was not afraid to show it off. Tail flicking, she gulped down his pre cum with her eyes half-lidded and pumped his length with both paws as she suckled as if on a fine treat. The taste of stallion cum could be addictive to one that had guzzled down enough of it. His girth strained her lips so wide that her jaw ached, but she was unwilling to ease off, to give up. Her throat worked, swallowing the flat head as the flare grew, glands scraping down her throat and over her tongue as she bobbed, mimicking a stallion's thrusts. She had to keep going, had to ignore the strain. If she gave up, she could not live with Sean any more.

He was getting close - she could feel it in the anxious shift of this hind legs. Stallions never did last long and she groaned inwardly, craving more even as her heart thudded with greater urgency against her ribcage. Encouraged by his rising need, Skylark caressed his balls with one paw, driving her muzzle down his dick to shove it straight into her throat. She had no gag reflex, only remembered from anthro instinct and the force it took to actually penetrate an equine throat. Her nose pushed down his length, past the medial ring, to the soft sheath and her nostrils flared. She could not breathe! It was too much, she would have to pull back!

And then his balls, cupped in two paws, seemed to pulse, though that could have been the little mare's imagination and desire tampering with reality. The stallion's front hooves left the paving as his cock throbbed, depositing a thick load of cum down Skylark's throat. Even though his cock kept her throat snugly filled, the slave mare swallowed automatically, working the muscle there to give her stud of the afternoon even more pleasure. He whickered above her and rocked forward, shoving her nose into his sheath.

The musky sweat of his maleness overpowered her senses and she withdrew with a splutter to the tip of his cock, sending the final spurts over her muzzle. She closed her eyes in time to avoid an untimely splattering and parted her lips as she panted heavily, cum drooling off her tongue and lips. She shuddered, tail flagging to show off her needy pussy to the camera, juices dripping down her inner thighs as her need grew. Giving a feral equine a blowjob never failed to make her feel like a wanton slut.

And, secretly, she would not change that feeling for the world.

The stallion nickered, cock softening between her paws, and she lavished attention on the sensitive glands, kissing and licking until he drooped fully. Disinterested by the mare after having his fill of her, the equine shook himself bodily and rubbed his poll against the wall to sate an itch that had thus far gone unnoticed. Snorting, he turned his head, searching for the evening feed that he was sure was coming his way, sooner rather than later now.

As Skylark licked cum from her lips, she hesitantly peered back over her shoulder at the camera, tail swishing. Had she done okay? She tried to duck her muzzle coyly and reached between her legs to spread her pussy lips wide.

Fuck me...

"Well..." Sandy broke the silence. "I think this one is going to do very well indeed!"

She winked at Sky with her cum painted muzzle, breasts heaving as she regained lost breath.

"Welcome to the film team, little filly!"