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The shackle around your tarsus was loose and the night was dark. Your hind quarters were drying up and getting sticky from a recent encounter with one of the lords staff. The peasant happened to have the tools needed to loosen the shackle around your leg. For once it wasn't a pleasure-less rape or being forced to trot around town as if you were some trophy. The peasant really did try and satisfy you not just himself. You hoped you might see him again, you shake that muse from your head and refocus on your escape. Grabbing the shackle in your right foot you pull it off your left then roll onto your feet. You leap into the air with a powerful down stroke of your wings and head for the compounds closest boundary. You pass it as elation overcomes you, you were free. After soaring a small distance you felt oddly stiff and decide to land. You start to descend but the stiffness rapidly gets worse leaving you several hundred feet up increasing speed as the forest canopy races towards you. Panicking you try forcing your muscles to move but nothing moved as you passed the point to save yourself from a crash landing. The last thing you remember is your wings slamming into the treetops. You wake up in serious pain and still paralyzed, blood dripping out of your snout and a multitude of cuts and tears. The sun just risen and you could hear the faint clopping of horses dragging a cart as it clatters up a nearby dirt path. The horses stop and you hear men with boots tromping toward where you lay tangles in the tree tops. Suddenly your paralysis let go of your body allowing it to slip out of the canopy. Instinctively you try flapping your wings but this just brings immense pain as you crash against the ground. You lay there in a pile of mangled wings and tree branches. The lord was there with a scowl on his face which turned even more sour after seeing the dried sheen covering your haunches and tail base. He turned to his guard captain "Make sure it can't fly again, then give the whore to the horses". After listening to the lord's orders things blurred together as you fell in and out of consciousness. In one of your more conscious moments, you heard "broken beyond repair" "what else can we do". You had a nightmare that night where your left wing was ripped from your body at the socket and your right was first broken, then the thin membrane was torn taking the rest of your hide with it.

You came to with a shiver at the cold crisp air. You open your eyes you can see a brightly lit moon in the sky but something is wrong. You close then open your eyes again but you were still unable to see out your left eye. You use your long tongue to feel around the left side of your head. You curse to yourself as you quickly find most of the skin and flesh on the that side of your snout and head was missing or covered in gnarled scar tissue. Looking around with your good eye, you find you are laying on your left side, strapped to a small awkward bench, that had a rough representation of a horse standing over your hips. Your tail was bent as far up as it would go leaving your round puckered cloaca exposed. You mused that this whole setup looked like 12:07:52 from above as if it was one of those ancient clocks you read about. Your legs were bound at the knee with the strap running over your back keeping them pinned to your flanks. The rest of your leg was folded up using a strap around the back of your tarsus and the front of your thighs. Your eyes come to rest on a two foot stump where your right wing should have been. You could barely make out a thin scar where your wings silky smooth stretchy membrane used to be. There were no flaps of skin left or jagged edges just a faint thin scar running from the back of her stump to the middle of her tail. Your left wing felt like it was completely removed possibly with part of your shoulder. It takes a second for what happened to hit you as tears well up as you quietly sob yourself asleep. You are woken by something wet splashing against your rear leaving a thick slimey mess on the base of your tail and back of your pubic boot. You felt your wooden prison shake as a horse mounted, violently prodding for an opening. After a couple tries you felt that horse cock press hard against your cloaca nestled in the crook formed where the tail met the back of your pubic boot. You squeezed your love hole as tightly as you could, trying hard to keep that horse out, but all the clenching did was make his entry more painful. The stud fucked you hard shoving his member deeper and deeper in your love tunnel. Soon the stud was hammering against the fleshy gates of your rectum at the back of your cloaca. A few hard thrusts and the horse broke through sliding the rest of the way in hilting himself deep in your bowels. Pushing forcefully against your theropod shaped rear, with its swept back pubic boot, he shuddered releasing streams of cum deep in your bowels. He quickly shrank spasming a couple more times leaving your vent dribbling his seed onto the bench, the tiny puddle of milky white maleness nearly a foot behind your left buttock. Before too much spunk dribbled out another stud was already probing for your special hole. Seven horses and two griffins shot their loads inside your body, leaving your bowels feeling bloated and uncomfortable. Your abused hole was sore, drooping slightly to the left with the gentle pull of gravity. You try to squeeze it closed, your sphincter trembling as it strained, but it was too stretched to stop the flow of leaking spunk. You relax your stretched vent, letting your belly of cum work its way back out into the puddle which was now soaking your left buttock. A tear splashes against the boards you are tied to while thoughts about the past few years and how your life has become a hellish nightmare lull you into a deep sleep.