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“I… I need a distraction and, I'm… I'm thankful you can give it to me!"

Rhannah smiles. She then hops up and holds her hand out. “Come on, then. Why don't we get this painting done together? It's about time I do some heavy lifting around here.

“S… sorry, mistress…" Halia says."

“Hm…? About what?" There's honesty in her voice this time.

“I just had another bad thought about myself."

“What's it this time, pet?"

Pushing herself up, Halia begins to head her way back to the living room. “It's just that I thought there's no way I deserve someone like you in my life."

“I have to say, Halia, you really know how to make a house a home," Rhannah says, sweeping her arms around in a grand gesture around the newly-finished room. “I knew you had it in you."

“I mean, you helped me," Haliah says, rubbing at the seem of her muzzle.

“Oh, hush," Rhannah says, walking past the horse and towards the stairs. “It was a team effort in labor, but in design, this is all you. You've made quite the impression in our home, and I'm looking forward to it being a reminder for us for years to come."

“Years…?" Halia's voice trails as she stares at the room. She walks up towards the couch, sliding her fingers over the back of the seat.

The shower upstairs turns on, and Halia's voice wafts down from above. “Get yourself cleaned up, alright? You deserve yourself a reward for all your hard work."

Halia pulls her fingers away, bringing them close to her chest, but shakes her head and heads off towards the second bathroom, ready to clean herself off.

—

Halia leaves the shower with a fresh set of clothes, making some adjustments to her prostheses. Rhannah's voice beckons her from the living room, and so, she heeds the call, only to pause, her mouth slack from the sight.

Rhannah sits on the couch in her usual cross-legged position, but this time, she is as naked as she is when she is at work, but not in that professional posture. No, she leans back, arms draped over the back, letting her breasts be the centerpiece of the display, while she squishes her udders under the gentle cross of one leg over the other. The smile she has curls at the corner of one lip, her eyes half-lidded. “Good evening, pet," Halia says, pushing herself up, exposing the rest of herself for the horse. “It's time for your reward. Strip."

Halia's nostrils flare with the intake of air, the mare's mouth closing as she stares all over Rhannah D'Ayrie, from her hair to her derriere.

Rhannah furrows her brow, placing her knuckles upon her hips. “Did you hear me, pet? I said 'stri-"

The next moment, Rhannah stares off to the side, her cheek upon the floor, her stomach, udders, and breasts pressed to the cold, hard wood. She takes a moment to regain her breath. Where had it gone? And where did that pain through her body come from? She tries to move her hands. They're clamped together, and weight is on her, and breath, and a voice in her ear.

“Being your personal aid is a job," Halia growls. “You're my fucking boss, and I'm your employee."

Halia's grip on Rhannah's wrists tighten. Her knee presses into the cow's back. “I will not be treated like a piece of meat in the bedroom. Do you understand?" Her voice gets higher at that last one, barking that order at the cow.

“I… I…"

“I said, 'Do you understand!" This command comes louder.

“Ma'am, yes, Ma'am!" Rhannah lulls.

Halia nods, her grip loosening. When Rhannah whines at the gesture, the horse frowns.

“Y… you know…" Rhannah says, looking over towards the horse from the corner of her eye. “You're pretty good at taking charge in the bedroom. I think I might be getting turned on."

Halia stumbles away from Rhannah, scrambling to her hooves. “Huh? Wait, what? I…"

Rhannah groans, pushing herself up, rubbing her back a little. She arches, a crack, and a sigh following soon after. “Well, then, if you have no interest in that, I understand." She returns to a standing position, her hands behind her back, facing away from the horse as her tail swishes back and forth. “I suppose you have been submissive this entire time. It's my mistake to think you'd take such a direct order in matters of intimacy. Very well, I shall be much more gentle in my requests of you."

“Hey, now you listen here. I'm not going to sit back and make you objectify me," Halia says, stomping up to the cow, pressing a finger to her chest.

Rhannah bites her lip, nodding with a quick “mm-hm!"

“I say how far I can go in things."

“R… right." Rhannah says, removing one hand from behind her back and caressing the horse's wrist.

“And… you can't just… spring this on me without warning."

“I apologize," Rhannah says, placing a hand upon her own chest. “We shall establish rules and boundaries together. That way, any surprise shall be a pleasant one from now on. Is that an amicable solution to you?"

Halia nods, her eyes flicking down every so often back to that view she dares to stare.

“If you'd prefer to service me with your clothes on, that's quite fine for you."

Rhannah snorts at that, her glance locking back to Rhannah's.

The cow's tongue peeks out from between her lips. The pause lasts. She then continues. “Or, I wouldn't mind if you vented on me a bit. How long has it been, Halia?" She reaches up, her hand upon the horse's cheek. “How long has it been since you've been close to someone who wants to make you feel happy, and someone who can match your speed and your desires?"

Halia grasps the wrist, pulling it away from her face. She leans in, hot breath blasting the cow's face. “You have no fucking idea how far my desires go, 'mistress Rhannah. You think you're ready for that shit?"

Rhannah arches her back again, rubbing it gently. “Well, for one thing, I don't very much oppose to you treating me like your object, so, play away."

The reaction that Rhannah gave Halia wasn't quite what the mare was expecting. Neither was Halia expecting her own response to the situation. Could she have foreseen herself leaning in and whispering into the bovine ear the sweet poisoned word of “no."

Could she have envisioned the cow's moo being so intoxicating? Could she have seen herself clasping the woman's hand and leading her up to the bedroom, discarding garments along the way in a mad dash to find a place of comfort?

No, she could have thought of any of that.

Halia had her suspicions that Rhannah wanted her in bed since the moment they met. The cow always dripped of raw sensual energy. Halia had seen her naked before, of course. With the horse laying half-naked on the bed and seeing the cow remove the last of the horse's clothing, tits, and udders and shaggy coat on display, it was completely different. There, it was business, here it is all for pleasure.

Halia snorts, and from her lips, she ushers a command. Rhannah agrees and climbs onto the bed on top of the horse. At the behest of the equine, her mouth and her tongue grace her body. Fingers drag down over her muscled form, enjoying her, worshiping her.

Halia's breaths come out with quick huffs, and between them, she asks the cow if everything is alright. The bovine beauty, of course, assures the mare, while placing sweet kisses upon her breast.

Halia grabs Rhannah's head, pushing her up against her body. The cow's face finds its way right between the horse's core. With that tongue lapping away, giving her little sparks of attention, Halia cannot help but feel her boldness grow. She speaks to her-commands her and traps her in a leg lock. The cow's squeal of delight between the horse's thighs only urge Halia onward to continue issuing those commands, to order the cow to not stop until she comes.

It doesn't matter precisely what words Halia says. They all spill out from her want. Every last breathy order and barking command erupts from her heart and out of her throat, saying what feels right at the moment. Judging by how the tongue inside her reacts, she can only guess that the words are working.

Object, indeed. Can an object be so spurred on by a simple jumble of nonsense words? Could a sexual slave be what the mare needs in the bedroom and out of it? No, this is something different. This is something better—magical, even, if she were to hazard that such a thing would exist.

Halia grits her teeth, her gasping, growling cry of pleasure, played up for her partner, escapes through her mouth, rattling the prosthetic. She doesn't care about the discomfort right now. The satisfaction she feels is only part of this wondrous equation, and she lets out one more set of nonsense words. One last cry from deep within her sex-starved soul. It is something that means absolutely nothing. It resonates in such a way as to drain out all the energy from her being. But, it makes her heart race.

“M… Mistress!" she hisses. “I…. I love you!"

How much time passed since her orgasm? She doesn't know. What she said cannot be unsaid, and yet the cow didn't seem to have been phased by it at all. It was just a stupid set of words. She didn't actually mean them. They were a script written out in some sappy romance novel. It's the way things like this were supposed to go. At least, that's what the authors of those works would have people believe. Even though she didn't believe herself, and though the cow said nothing, she still lay there on the bed with her, the mare's arm around the cow's shoulder.

Rhannah curled up next to Halia, seeming to not need to come to orgasm herself in the exchange. Halia is afraid to ask her. She doesn't want to open up that conversation. “Is there anything I can do for you?" or “What do you wish?" Those questions might lead to something else—might lead to the dreaded reciprocation. And then, what would happen? What would they become? Is there a “they"?

The sex… was great. Oh, it was beautiful beyond words. And the lead up to it, like it was some kind of conclusion. Like this is the end of their story. How ridiculous. They'd have work tomorrow. Life goes on. The storybook doesn't close, and so much uncertainty on what the next page will hold will always be there. There's the next mission. There's the following command, whether she's giving it or Rhannah is.

The stirring of the spooning bovine snaps her out of her thoughts. However, the anxiety still buzzes in the sides of her brain.

“Mmm… you're so tense," Rhannah says, her hands finding new ways to stimulate Halia even when they are just laying there.

“I… I'm sorry, M… mistress. The bad thoughts, they're-"

“I know," Rhannah says, placing a kiss upon the horse's shoulder. She snuggles up against Halia, just being there for her.

Halia pulls Rhannah in closer, being that strong woman she knows she can be, turning to face her as the warmth of their naked bodies comfort each other. She looks to Rhannah in the eyes, and Rhannah looks back. Her throat is so dry. “Mistress, about what I said, I-"

Rhannah kisses Halia, and Halia's tensions disappeared. She couldn't feel it. Of course, she couldn't, not like she should, but… it still feels real, even if it is only the sight, the sound. She opens her mouth, and soon, it's also the taste.