This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
*****
Virgin Sacrifice
Bwci's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful smack as if a bird struggled to free itself from the cage of her ribs. Tied over a rounded block of wood, the young, albino equine twisted against the ropes, rubbing the skin raw in the dying embers of sunset. She had tried to escape from the mounting block for hours to no avail. No one ever escaped, yet the anthro clung to a shred of hope that she could free herself from the sanded smooth log on the raised platform before it was too late. She curled her fingers into a fist and relaxed them, wriggling on her belly into a more comfortable position, limbs bound on either side of the log so that her full weight rested upon it. She had been there since sunrise and the breeze tickled her bare nether regions, playing the hair of her fine, white tail over her plump sex. She was ripe for the taking for the very first time.
Every month, the mages gathered. Every month, her village sacrificed a maiden to the Horse Lords. Every month, it was the same ritual of choosing, uncovering which mare had been chosen this month. Sometimes, the Horse Lords signed that they desired a stallion, though that was rare. When the village mages chanted, swaying, they would be sent a sign from the Horse Lords - they would tell the mages which mare was to be sent to the mounting block. None of the villagers other than the mages and perhaps the chief, now that Bwci thought about it, knew how the mages received the signs but they had never questioned that. There was evidence enough that the Horse Lords existed and were just, as long as sacrifices were made, and the continued peace in their land was a blessing indeed.
The sacrifice fared worse than the villagers.
It did not matter whether the mare sent was a virgin or experienced. After the ordeal, she would return to the village in whatever state the Horse Lords left her in, broken or proud - there was no way to tell. Usually the sacrifices tried to clean themselves before returning, but all of them held the rank stench of a raw, powerful stallion, his seed forever marking them as bred. Months later, their bellies would swell and those with mates would weep.
Sometimes the Horse Lords would have a favourite mare to call on to be a sacrifice, repeatedly. The mates of those poor souls rarely stayed with them long once it was clear that they were in demand of the elite and left them to raise four-legged offspring that were no more intelligent than beasts. That was the will of the Horse Lords. Bwci shuddered and threw her weight into the ropes, throwing with a sick feeling in her heart that they would hold, just as they had for every other mare in her position.
And he was coming.
The thud of hooves drawing near was unmistakable. Nothing like the gait of an anthro equine, the thunder of a full-fledged gallop made Bwci shiver and she shrank into the wooden block as if she meant to disappear completely. Around her, the forest shivered, the mounting block set in a small clearing. The space only had to be large enough for one of the Horse Lords to reach her and she had heard that they liked their privacy, hence the comforting pines branching out into the open air, creating a thick canopy.
Thud-thud, thud-thud. The hoof beats came swiftly. The Horse Lord crashed through bracken and brambles alike, power surging through his veins. He forged his own path. In one, last futile attempt, Bwci whinnied fearfully and hurled her body back against the ropes, shoulders arching up as her tail flagged at the strain of it. Yet, it was useless, absolutely useless. She would be taken.
And then he burst between two tree trunks in a shower of pine needles and bracken, thrown up by his mighty hooves. Bwci's eyes went wide.
A stallion, 18hh - her best estimate in the moment - at the shoulder slowed to a canter as he entered the clearing, black coat gleaming in the crimson sunset, soon to turn to twilight. Built like a four-legged draft horse, he exuded elegance from his muscle-laden body, moving with the grace of one who had known the lands and the form he chose for countless centuries. Bwci gulped, nickering anxiously. He circled the clearing once, twice, three times while the small mare tried to follow his course, head whipping back and forth when he tracked behind her, inspecting his sacrifice from every angle, tasting her fear. Her mouth was dry and she clamped her tail down over her rump as if it would help her case to show herself as unwilling. Her wrists and fetlocks were sore from the rope and she groun her teeth together, lifting the fine curve of her cheek. She would not be afraid. She would survive.
The horse flowed into trot and them a long-legged walk, obsidian mane shining over the arch of his neck. Pride thrummed through his form and he approached her head on, leaping on to the platform from a walk with one powerful surge of his hindquarters, front hooves tucking up and thudded down on the wooden boards. They quivered and held his weight. Hanging his head over her back, he huffed, snorting a wash of hot breath over her back. She shuddered as his velvety muzzle brushed her back and she fought the natural instincts of her body, tail aching to jerk up in welcome.
A virgin... You are delectable, my dear.
She started. He spoke? Well, that did not help her situation at all. She simply had not thought they were ones to communicate with the villagers, the Horse Lords. Strange. Confusing. Irrelevant.
Trembling, Bwci closed her eyes as the massive head swung over hers, the horse standing to her side so that he hung over her. Anger flared in the mare's stomach. Was he just toying with her? Fury made her bold.
"Leave me alone!" Bwci snapped, teeth clicking together an inch from the stallion's neck as he jerked upwards just in time to avoid her teeth. "You can get by without doing this! Stop abusing us! Leave all of us alone! We never did you any harm! Never went against you!"
Snorting, the Horse Lord trotted around her, heavy hooves thumping. They had to be the size of the clay plates the villagers ate their evening meals from. She could not help but feel in awe of his sheer size and confident strength. It was only natural. Unwelcome heat raced through her body, clouding her thoughts, and she bared her teeth at the stallion, ears pinned to her skull.
There is a fire in you, filly. He nipped her rump, making her squeal. I shall quench it.
As he passed in front of her muzzle, she whimpered to see his cock unsheathed, hanging below his stomach. Larger than any of the anthro stallions she had seen in the village, it was larger than her arm, sending writhing snakes of anxiety into her stomach. Her lips parted in shock and, to her shame, her pussy lips moistened, drooling her own juices in preparation for the entry it knew was coming from the scents on the air, an instinctive reaction. Traitor. Her body was a traitor to see him as a breeding stud, strong genes to pass on, further her line. It would break her! She would not live! It did not matter how strong in spirit she was to last through the ordeal - her body could not take that!
"You'll kill me," she whinnied shrilly, the piercing note cracking in terror. "Please, I beg you, don't do this to me. There are other mares, bigger mares. They have taken you before. Please - take one of them! Some of them even like it, I'm sure. They tell tales. They want you. Have mercy on me, my Lord."
You are not to ask mercy of me, filly. He stomped one hoof, pawing the air. Know your place. I chose you.
His shaft jerked, slapping against his belly in a splatter of pre cum. More virile than any normal, four-legged stallion - or even an anthro, for that matter - the Horse Lord oozed pre cum from his flatter cock-tip, more than was natural. The shaft, mottled dark grey and pink, twitched with his movements as he paced behind Bwci, each step sending a tremor through the platform that Bwci felt travel through her whole body. He snuffled over her rump, muzzle pushing away her tail to taste her sex. He snaked his head back, upper lip curling away from his teeth as he shifted through the scents, her virgin aroma, her first season.
Pleased, he mounted her, rearing up and bringing his forelegs down on either side of the white mare, gripping the sides of the smooth log as he would a mare. Bwci panicked, twisting and writhing in the ropes, yet they were drawn so tightly that she appeared to do little more than squirm. His cock pushed over her rump and lower back, leaving slick trails of pre cum in its wake. No, no she could not do it! She would not!
He nickered, nosing over her thin mane and snatching a clump of it between her teeth, reminding her of her place as he moved over her, chest pinning her shoulders down. Head to far forward, due to their size difference, to bite and play further with his sacrifice, the Horse Lord forced the mare to bear his weight, tail swishing proudly. Beneath him, she was tiny.
The Horse Lord neighed out his victory to all that cared to hear it, the sound echoing far through the forest, further than sound would travel naturally. Bwci shivered at the power of it and closed her eyes as his cock slipped between her buttocks, seeking entry. He snorted.
I chose a virgin.
With that, he powered his hips forward, finding the mare's flushed, winking breeding hole like he had with so many others before. Unlike a feral horse, he needed no guidance or time to line up with her sex - he was a Lord amongst horses and the beings of this world. The large cock-head ground against the opening and it seemed for a moment that he would not be allowed entry, that this mare would be too tight for him. Grunting, he thrust again and this time his shaft sank into her, widening her unused passage with brute force. Bwci screamed.
Her juices helped slicken the way as he ground deeper with several thrusts, each pushing in further than the last. Bwci pressed her cheek to the wooden below her, tears streaming down her face, blurring what little vision she had. As night fell over her torture, her world became darker, dominated by the broad, powerful chest over her shoulders and the forelegs, which gripped and tightened as if she was to be held in place. Her pussy ached but she held out hope that she would not be torn, that she would still find herself whole when she was left raw, broken in soul and used, but alive. With her chest pressed to the log, the mare could hardly draw a full breath and she wheezed out a sob, pussy stretched beyond what she could ever have imagined possible.
Snorting, the Horse Lord thrust brutally, slamming his fat length into the sacrifice with no care for her wellbeing. He had not killed a female during mating for several centuries and had no reason to believe that this white mare would be the first. Either way, she was his to use and abuse. Inhaling the scent of her season, body prime for breeding, he grunted with every thrust, driving in past the medial ring on his cock so she was forced that little bit wider. Bwci sobbed, fingers curling into fists and uncurling again in rapid succession, the small, repeated movement distracting her from what was happening. If she thought hard enough, she did not have to experience it. She did not have to feel the burn in her pussy that was half pain and half arousal, need curling through her loins like a vine around a flower.
But she could not deny what her body so desired. Having never experienced season before, she could never have anticipated how the breeding would make her body sing like a lyre, played with every stroke of his member. Whimpering, she hid her muzzle, letting her mane fall forward, and hung her head low, tail flagging under the stallion's belly in open invite. She did not want him. Her body wanted him. She wanted him gone. Her body wanted his seed. The Horse Lord quivered, snorting in an equine version of a laugh, hips nearly flush with her rump: he could cram no more of his monstrous length into her.
You will learn to crave my cock.
Bwci thought that she would not, not daring to vocalise the sentiment aloud. It was not as if she had breath to do so, pinned as she was. She wondered if he would crush her in a stray moment of passion and let that be the end of it, yet it was not to be so. He groaned, huge body giving him the strength to power into her like the little breeding toy that she was. She was his to use as he pleased. Shuddering, Bwci tried to banish the thoughts from her mind, feeling his cock slam into a hidden barrier inside her, bringing forth a fresh wave of pain that she did not know the reason of, in her inexperience.
The Horse Lord nickered in annoyance: he had not expected to bottom out in his sacrifice so quickly. She had been smaller than originally thought, though it meant she made for a deliciously tight sleeve around his cock, muscles clenching and rippling as if she meant to milk his fleshy rod. Tightening his grip about the mare's shoulders and arms - she was too small to grip her sides - he thrust viciously, taking pleasure in her squeals of pain, breath harsh in the comparative quiet. Good, she should feel pain, she should fear him. She should remember the experience forever, so that she carried his respect in her heart and her belly. The fat pole rammed her pussy without mercy and he groaned, the sound rumbling through his whole body. It was time.
Bwci did not know how to tell when a stallion was getting close to orgasm. All she knew was that the horse suddenly bucked into her with urgency, each thrust striking the barrier within her that she did not know the name of. Her need rose in time with his strokes and she tried to focus on that, take what pleasure she could in order to ride it out, last until it all ended. The pain in her pussy eased, bar the struck barrier, and she felt stronger, placing her paws flat against the wood as if to draw strength from it. The Horse Lord flattened his ears to his skull, jerking his hindquarters in close to the mare until release hit him in a shuddering gasp.
Balls tightening up to his body, he neighed victoriously as he pumping cum into his breeding sacrifice, tail flagging. Bwci cried out as the hot, viscous liquid filled her - she had not thought she would be able to feel it inside - and oozed out around his thick shaft, unable to find anywhere else to go besides deeper into her. He did not pause in his thrusting as he spent himself, instead taking her more fiercely than before until she gave a sharp cry of pain, the Horse Lord playing at pushing past the entrance to her cervix. But no: that treat was for another time, another foal. He was patient in waiting for his fillies to be ready to breed again. He had his favourites to call upon in the meantime.
Balls drained, the stallion huffed and pushed back, dismounting the mare and dragging his cock from her in a rush of semen. Her pussy winked at him, red raw and drooling his cum in a thick stream. It almost poured from her, so much had he filled her, and she hung limply over the log, barely able to believe that it was finally over. Bwci ached, though she could not pin down exactly where she hurt, only that her body desired both more of that illicit pleasure and a long rest, preferably in that order. Pathetically, she dragged her tired head around to look back at him over her shoulder, eyes wide and pleading. The Horse Lord stomped a fore-hoof and nickered in equine laughter.
Carry my foal well, breeding filly. Perhaps I will teach you how to feel the pleasure I do when I next call for you.
His need for her gone, the stallion turned and leapt from the platform, landing on the forest floor with a shudder, gouging hoof marks into the earth. Bwci dropped her head to the log, every muscle going slack as she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, sensing more than hearing her abuser disappearing into the forest, his dark form winding between tree trunks with uncanny grace. The sound of hoof beats faded and Bwci shook her head in despair, conflicting emotions fighting for dominance that could never be truly won.
Aching and sore for something she could not name, the mare dropped her muzzle to the log and ground her hips back into empty air, begging him with a shrill whinny to return for her, to quell the heat surging from her loins. Yet he was gone, far gone into the world that fed his soul. Night had fallen entirely and wrapped her in its cool embrace, wind licking her coat as the Horse Lord's seed dried upon her. The villagers would come for her shortly, torches lighting their way, but she did not want to see them.
It would be eleven months before the Horse Lord was interested in this particular filly again.
*****
Virgin Sacrifice
Bwci's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful smack as if a bird struggled to free itself from the cage of her ribs. Tied over a rounded block of wood, the young, albino equine twisted against the ropes, rubbing the skin raw in the dying embers of sunset. She had tried to escape from the mounting block for hours to no avail. No one ever escaped, yet the anthro clung to a shred of hope that she could free herself from the sanded smooth log on the raised platform before it was too late. She curled her fingers into a fist and relaxed them, wriggling on her belly into a more comfortable position, limbs bound on either side of the log so that her full weight rested upon it. She had been there since sunrise and the breeze tickled her bare nether regions, playing the hair of her fine, white tail over her plump sex. She was ripe for the taking for the very first time.
Every month, the mages gathered. Every month, her village sacrificed a maiden to the Horse Lords. Every month, it was the same ritual of choosing, uncovering which mare had been chosen this month. Sometimes, the Horse Lords signed that they desired a stallion, though that was rare. When the village mages chanted, swaying, they would be sent a sign from the Horse Lords - they would tell the mages which mare was to be sent to the mounting block. None of the villagers other than the mages and perhaps the chief, now that Bwci thought about it, knew how the mages received the signs but they had never questioned that. There was evidence enough that the Horse Lords existed and were just, as long as sacrifices were made, and the continued peace in their land was a blessing indeed.
The sacrifice fared worse than the villagers.
It did not matter whether the mare sent was a virgin or experienced. After the ordeal, she would return to the village in whatever state the Horse Lords left her in, broken or proud - there was no way to tell. Usually the sacrifices tried to clean themselves before returning, but all of them held the rank stench of a raw, powerful stallion, his seed forever marking them as bred. Months later, their bellies would swell and those with mates would weep.
Sometimes the Horse Lords would have a favourite mare to call on to be a sacrifice, repeatedly. The mates of those poor souls rarely stayed with them long once it was clear that they were in demand of the elite and left them to raise four-legged offspring that were no more intelligent than beasts. That was the will of the Horse Lords. Bwci shuddered and threw her weight into the ropes, throwing with a sick feeling in her heart that they would hold, just as they had for every other mare in her position.
And he was coming.
The thud of hooves drawing near was unmistakable. Nothing like the gait of an anthro equine, the thunder of a full-fledged gallop made Bwci shiver and she shrank into the wooden block as if she meant to disappear completely. Around her, the forest shivered, the mounting block set in a small clearing. The space only had to be large enough for one of the Horse Lords to reach her and she had heard that they liked their privacy, hence the comforting pines branching out into the open air, creating a thick canopy.
Thud-thud, thud-thud. The hoof beats came swiftly. The Horse Lord crashed through bracken and brambles alike, power surging through his veins. He forged his own path. In one, last futile attempt, Bwci whinnied fearfully and hurled her body back against the ropes, shoulders arching up as her tail flagged at the strain of it. Yet, it was useless, absolutely useless. She would be taken.
And then he burst between two tree trunks in a shower of pine needles and bracken, thrown up by his mighty hooves. Bwci's eyes went wide.
A stallion, 18hh - her best estimate in the moment - at the shoulder slowed to a canter as he entered the clearing, black coat gleaming in the crimson sunset, soon to turn to twilight. Built like a four-legged draft horse, he exuded elegance from his muscle-laden body, moving with the grace of one who had known the lands and the form he chose for countless centuries. Bwci gulped, nickering anxiously. He circled the clearing once, twice, three times while the small mare tried to follow his course, head whipping back and forth when he tracked behind her, inspecting his sacrifice from every angle, tasting her fear. Her mouth was dry and she clamped her tail down over her rump as if it would help her case to show herself as unwilling. Her wrists and fetlocks were sore from the rope and she groun her teeth together, lifting the fine curve of her cheek. She would not be afraid. She would survive.
The horse flowed into trot and them a long-legged walk, obsidian mane shining over the arch of his neck. Pride thrummed through his form and he approached her head on, leaping on to the platform from a walk with one powerful surge of his hindquarters, front hooves tucking up and thudded down on the wooden boards. They quivered and held his weight. Hanging his head over her back, he huffed, snorting a wash of hot breath over her back. She shuddered as his velvety muzzle brushed her back and she fought the natural instincts of her body, tail aching to jerk up in welcome.
A virgin... You are delectable, my dear.
She started. He spoke? Well, that did not help her situation at all. She simply had not thought they were ones to communicate with the villagers, the Horse Lords. Strange. Confusing. Irrelevant.
Trembling, Bwci closed her eyes as the massive head swung over hers, the horse standing to her side so that he hung over her. Anger flared in the mare's stomach. Was he just toying with her? Fury made her bold.
"Leave me alone!" Bwci snapped, teeth clicking together an inch from the stallion's neck as he jerked upwards just in time to avoid her teeth. "You can get by without doing this! Stop abusing us! Leave all of us alone! We never did you any harm! Never went against you!"
Snorting, the Horse Lord trotted around her, heavy hooves thumping. They had to be the size of the clay plates the villagers ate their evening meals from. She could not help but feel in awe of his sheer size and confident strength. It was only natural. Unwelcome heat raced through her body, clouding her thoughts, and she bared her teeth at the stallion, ears pinned to her skull.
There is a fire in you, filly. He nipped her rump, making her squeal. I shall quench it.
As he passed in front of her muzzle, she whimpered to see his cock unsheathed, hanging below his stomach. Larger than any of the anthro stallions she had seen in the village, it was larger than her arm, sending writhing snakes of anxiety into her stomach. Her lips parted in shock and, to her shame, her pussy lips moistened, drooling her own juices in preparation for the entry it knew was coming from the scents on the air, an instinctive reaction. Traitor. Her body was a traitor to see him as a breeding stud, strong genes to pass on, further her line. It would break her! She would not live! It did not matter how strong in spirit she was to last through the ordeal - her body could not take that!
"You'll kill me," she whinnied shrilly, the piercing note cracking in terror. "Please, I beg you, don't do this to me. There are other mares, bigger mares. They have taken you before. Please - take one of them! Some of them even like it, I'm sure. They tell tales. They want you. Have mercy on me, my Lord."
You are not to ask mercy of me, filly. He stomped one hoof, pawing the air. Know your place. I chose you.
His shaft jerked, slapping against his belly in a splatter of pre cum. More virile than any normal, four-legged stallion - or even an anthro, for that matter - the Horse Lord oozed pre cum from his flatter cock-tip, more than was natural. The shaft, mottled dark grey and pink, twitched with his movements as he paced behind Bwci, each step sending a tremor through the platform that Bwci felt travel through her whole body. He snuffled over her rump, muzzle pushing away her tail to taste her sex. He snaked his head back, upper lip curling away from his teeth as he shifted through the scents, her virgin aroma, her first season.
Pleased, he mounted her, rearing up and bringing his forelegs down on either side of the white mare, gripping the sides of the smooth log as he would a mare. Bwci panicked, twisting and writhing in the ropes, yet they were drawn so tightly that she appeared to do little more than squirm. His cock pushed over her rump and lower back, leaving slick trails of pre cum in its wake. No, no she could not do it! She would not!
He nickered, nosing over her thin mane and snatching a clump of it between her teeth, reminding her of her place as he moved over her, chest pinning her shoulders down. Head to far forward, due to their size difference, to bite and play further with his sacrifice, the Horse Lord forced the mare to bear his weight, tail swishing proudly. Beneath him, she was tiny.
The Horse Lord neighed out his victory to all that cared to hear it, the sound echoing far through the forest, further than sound would travel naturally. Bwci shivered at the power of it and closed her eyes as his cock slipped between her buttocks, seeking entry. He snorted.
I chose a virgin.
With that, he powered his hips forward, finding the mare's flushed, winking breeding hole like he had with so many others before. Unlike a feral horse, he needed no guidance or time to line up with her sex - he was a Lord amongst horses and the beings of this world. The large cock-head ground against the opening and it seemed for a moment that he would not be allowed entry, that this mare would be too tight for him. Grunting, he thrust again and this time his shaft sank into her, widening her unused passage with brute force. Bwci screamed.
Her juices helped slicken the way as he ground deeper with several thrusts, each pushing in further than the last. Bwci pressed her cheek to the wooden below her, tears streaming down her face, blurring what little vision she had. As night fell over her torture, her world became darker, dominated by the broad, powerful chest over her shoulders and the forelegs, which gripped and tightened as if she was to be held in place. Her pussy ached but she held out hope that she would not be torn, that she would still find herself whole when she was left raw, broken in soul and used, but alive. With her chest pressed to the log, the mare could hardly draw a full breath and she wheezed out a sob, pussy stretched beyond what she could ever have imagined possible.
Snorting, the Horse Lord thrust brutally, slamming his fat length into the sacrifice with no care for her wellbeing. He had not killed a female during mating for several centuries and had no reason to believe that this white mare would be the first. Either way, she was his to use and abuse. Inhaling the scent of her season, body prime for breeding, he grunted with every thrust, driving in past the medial ring on his cock so she was forced that little bit wider. Bwci sobbed, fingers curling into fists and uncurling again in rapid succession, the small, repeated movement distracting her from what was happening. If she thought hard enough, she did not have to experience it. She did not have to feel the burn in her pussy that was half pain and half arousal, need curling through her loins like a vine around a flower.
But she could not deny what her body so desired. Having never experienced season before, she could never have anticipated how the breeding would make her body sing like a lyre, played with every stroke of his member. Whimpering, she hid her muzzle, letting her mane fall forward, and hung her head low, tail flagging under the stallion's belly in open invite. She did not want him. Her body wanted him. She wanted him gone. Her body wanted his seed. The Horse Lord quivered, snorting in an equine version of a laugh, hips nearly flush with her rump: he could cram no more of his monstrous length into her.
You will learn to crave my cock.
Bwci thought that she would not, not daring to vocalise the sentiment aloud. It was not as if she had breath to do so, pinned as she was. She wondered if he would crush her in a stray moment of passion and let that be the end of it, yet it was not to be so. He groaned, huge body giving him the strength to power into her like the little breeding toy that she was. She was his to use as he pleased. Shuddering, Bwci tried to banish the thoughts from her mind, feeling his cock slam into a hidden barrier inside her, bringing forth a fresh wave of pain that she did not know the reason of, in her inexperience.
The Horse Lord nickered in annoyance: he had not expected to bottom out in his sacrifice so quickly. She had been smaller than originally thought, though it meant she made for a deliciously tight sleeve around his cock, muscles clenching and rippling as if she meant to milk his fleshy rod. Tightening his grip about the mare's shoulders and arms - she was too small to grip her sides - he thrust viciously, taking pleasure in her squeals of pain, breath harsh in the comparative quiet. Good, she should feel pain, she should fear him. She should remember the experience forever, so that she carried his respect in her heart and her belly. The fat pole rammed her pussy without mercy and he groaned, the sound rumbling through his whole body. It was time.
Bwci did not know how to tell when a stallion was getting close to orgasm. All she knew was that the horse suddenly bucked into her with urgency, each thrust striking the barrier within her that she did not know the name of. Her need rose in time with his strokes and she tried to focus on that, take what pleasure she could in order to ride it out, last until it all ended. The pain in her pussy eased, bar the struck barrier, and she felt stronger, placing her paws flat against the wood as if to draw strength from it. The Horse Lord flattened his ears to his skull, jerking his hindquarters in close to the mare until release hit him in a shuddering gasp.
Balls tightening up to his body, he neighed victoriously as he pumping cum into his breeding sacrifice, tail flagging. Bwci cried out as the hot, viscous liquid filled her - she had not thought she would be able to feel it inside - and oozed out around his thick shaft, unable to find anywhere else to go besides deeper into her. He did not pause in his thrusting as he spent himself, instead taking her more fiercely than before until she gave a sharp cry of pain, the Horse Lord playing at pushing past the entrance to her cervix. But no: that treat was for another time, another foal. He was patient in waiting for his fillies to be ready to breed again. He had his favourites to call upon in the meantime.
Balls drained, the stallion huffed and pushed back, dismounting the mare and dragging his cock from her in a rush of semen. Her pussy winked at him, red raw and drooling his cum in a thick stream. It almost poured from her, so much had he filled her, and she hung limply over the log, barely able to believe that it was finally over. Bwci ached, though she could not pin down exactly where she hurt, only that her body desired both more of that illicit pleasure and a long rest, preferably in that order. Pathetically, she dragged her tired head around to look back at him over her shoulder, eyes wide and pleading. The Horse Lord stomped a fore-hoof and nickered in equine laughter.
Carry my foal well, breeding filly. Perhaps I will teach you how to feel the pleasure I do when I next call for you.
His need for her gone, the stallion turned and leapt from the platform, landing on the forest floor with a shudder, gouging hoof marks into the earth. Bwci dropped her head to the log, every muscle going slack as she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, sensing more than hearing her abuser disappearing into the forest, his dark form winding between tree trunks with uncanny grace. The sound of hoof beats faded and Bwci shook her head in despair, conflicting emotions fighting for dominance that could never be truly won.
Aching and sore for something she could not name, the mare dropped her muzzle to the log and ground her hips back into empty air, begging him with a shrill whinny to return for her, to quell the heat surging from her loins. Yet he was gone, far gone into the world that fed his soul. Night had fallen entirely and wrapped her in its cool embrace, wind licking her coat as the Horse Lord's seed dried upon her. The villagers would come for her shortly, torches lighting their way, but she did not want to see them.
It would be eleven months before the Horse Lord was interested in this particular filly again.