Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2010 17:17:49 +0000
From: out-cast@hotmail.com
Subject: equine dominance 4

Like before, don't read this story if it is illegal or repulsive for you to
read about sex between men or between a man and an animal.  Don't try to
emulate the story, or if you try to anyway, don't blame me if you get hurt.
In a fictional world unprotected sex is safe, not so in the real one.
Events, people and places are all fictional.

Equine dominance - part 4

      "Happy Birthday, Adam!"
      Yawning, I stretch myself languidly and complain that it is far too
early to wake me. Doesn't he know it is my birthday? To be honest it is
almost 11 o'clock already, but I can sleep into the afternoon any day if
given the chance.
      "If you had known what present I got you, you'd have been nervously
awake since 5," Chris teases as he nestles against me in our bed and rests
the tray with breakfast on our laps.
      "So what did you buy me?"
      "Nosey! I am not going to tell you; it is a surprise. Suffice to say
it is something money can't buy."
      I probe a bit more to find out what it can be, but it is useless. My
boyfriend refuses to reveal the secret and stuffs my mouth with toast to
stop me interrogating him.

      An hour later, Chris pulls out of my arse, having just filled me with
a big load of cum. In contrast to his usual fucking, he has been gentle and
loving, rather than rough and overpowering, presumably to allow me to enjoy
it too on my 21st birthday.  In fact, I enjoy it however he screws me.
      "Time for your presents - some of your presents, the big one will
follow later."
      He grabs under the bed and feels around for what turns out to be
three small parcels. I am handed the first and impatiently rip away the
paper; his earlier comments have made me curious what he has got me.
      A digital camcorder - a good one, loads of pixels, expensive by the
looks of it.
      "Wow! That must have cost you a fortune."
      "And it will be worth it, you'll see."
      The next gift turns out to be a large tub of our favourite lube. A
look at Chris and he smiles his disarming smile, raising his eyebrows
suggestively.
      "You'll need it. Believe me," he says as he hands me the final,
smallest parcel.  I tear it open to reveal a set of car keys.
      "What the fuck?! Please tell me that you didn't buy a car."
      "Rental, I'm afraid, but I thought it would make a nice extra
present. It's an essential part of your treat today. Now go and have a
shower and get dressed, we have a busy day ahead. Something casual will
do."
      I do as I am told, although this is my birthday and I should be the
one who says what we are going to do. I bet Chris' plans are going to be
enjoyable, though.  Today is going to be fairly warm autumn day, so a pair
of longish shorts, a nicely tight T-shirt to show off my body, and my high
Converse trainers will do. I'll go commando, as one of the presents
suggested to me that underwear will only get in the way.
      On the pavement in front of the house Chris hands me the keys and
points at a parked Golf GTI.
      "You drive, it is your present. I'll tell you where to go."
      He puts the hold-all he packed while I was showering into the boot
after taking out my new camcorder.
      "I'll play with this thing on the way."

      The journey across the width of the country takes about 2 hours,
partly because Chris has sent me on a route along the winding back roads,
where the raw power of the 'hot-hatch' is more entertaining. I enjoy taking
the car through it paces so much that I barely notice where we are going,
just that we are getting close to Cambridge.
      "Slow down, Adam. It should be on our left here somewhere ... There,
the large white gates, that's it."
      'Birchfield Stud' the big sign next to the gate reads. I look over at
my boyfriend again as things are clearing in my mind. He winks at me in
response. This is horseracing country; Newmarket, the unofficial
thoroughbred capital of the UK, is somewhere around here.
      "Can I help you?"
      Some guy in jodhpurs has walked up to the car as we were getting out.
      "I am Chris Gates; I'm a friend of Lucas Waring. This is Adam
Sanders. Luke invited us to see the farm in action ..."
      "Oh, you're the veterinary student he mentioned. Welcome, I'm Ed, one
of the lads here. Luke is in the stables, I'll take you."
      He leads us through a gateway into an unfeasibly well-kept courtyard
with not a flaked patch of paint or an unsightly pile of horse dung in
sight. Seventeen doors, most of them with horses looking out of their
stalls surround the open space.
      "Chris! Good to see you, mate!"
      Luke, or so I presume, is about our age, not particularly handsome,
but with a gorgeous strong and trim body, probably from the heavy farm
work. The two of them embrace in a tight bear hug.
      "Luke, this is Adam, my boyfriend."
      He sticks out his hand and squeezes mine hard when I shake it.
      "Luke and I were best friends for the first few years of secondary
school.  When you moved away, I was inconsolable for ... oh, at least an
hour or two. You're looking well, pall."
      "Thanks, likewise."
      From the gentle smiles that are exchanged, I sense that they were
more than the usual 'best friends'. I've never wondered about Chris'
previous relationships, but I have no doubt he had some, and don't mind the
idea.
      "Let me give you a tour of the farm. You must have heard of
Birchfield; it's the preeminent stud farm in Europe at the moment. Sir
Malcolm Frasier is the owner, but we don't see him much. Mr Willows, the
manager, does most of the work."
      He leads us into a second almost identical courtyard, similarly
immaculate.
      "I've been head lad here for almost a year; it means I'm sort of a
sergeant- major, running the stables, trying to make sure the lads and
lasses all do their work."
      Walking up to one of the curious horses, he takes an apple from his
pocket and feeds it to the animal, rummaging her ears as she contently
munches on it.
      "This is Blossomchild, Dame to two Gold Cup winners and one Derby
winner," he says proudly, "one of the few mares here owned by Sir
Malcolm. Most of the 40 mares we have at the moment are guests, waiting to
be bred."
      He calmly leads us through a third yard, pointing out and naming some
of the animals who are particularly noteworthy. Every single one is a dame
- or mother in more common parlance - of winners of various classic races.
      "Do you only have mares?" I ask as innocently as I can, but it
doesn't fool our host, who sends me a knowing smile.
      "The stallions are in a yard of their own on the other side of the
mating centre.  It's better to keep them away from the mares. Just be
patient, you'll get to see them."

      In the next half an hour, we are shown the mating centre, a set of
spacious well-padded rooms, where the mares and stallions are 'introduced
to each other'. In the stud farm's offices, we get to meet the manager, who
makes some small talk with Chris about his alleged plans to specialise in
equine veterinary medicine, which is new to me because Chris and I both
study Law. I presume that it is the pretext for our presence.
      Finally, my patience is rewarded as we are led to the stallions'
yard. It turns out to be a much smaller affair than the three large mare's
yards: four stalls around a small open space.
      "You don't need nearly as many stallions as you need mares for
breeding. We have three studs here at the moment," Luke explains. "This
here is Leveller's Lad; the old man of our farm. He is semi-retired, but he
still has a few admirers, who send their mares to him every year. He is
relatively cheap at 100 grand per mating, because he never really sired any
top class offspring. Most of them good, some very good, but none of them
top of the class."
      I lean nonchalantly against the half door, looking at the beautiful
animal. It is not the quality of the offspring that interests me. What I am
interested in does look very, very attractive. And thick ...
      "Blue Master here is our National Hunt stud, breeding offspring for
steeple chase and hurdles races." Luke has moved on to the next
stall. "There is not so much money in jump horses, so his stud fees are
only 75 grand. But he is one of the best Hunt studs around."
      Blue Master looks very nice as well. He doesn't give me a clear view
of his dick, but the rest of him looks very strong and powerful; not unlike
Lilliput, if I'm honest. Which horse do I like best? It makes me feel like
a child on Christmas morning, having all these massive horse cocks to
choose from.
      "Our third stud is already in the mating centre, because he is due to
breed one of the mares. Shall we go inside to have a look?"

      Inside, we are shepherded into a viewing bay off one of the mating
stalls. A waiting mare is being prepared, tied to a ring in the wall and
covered with a thick padded quilt from ears to tail.
      "Prince of Manitoba, the stallion, is a pretty aggressive mate, so we
have to protect the mare."
      Prince of Manitoba is a name even I, as a relative horse racing
layman, have heard before.
      "'The Prince', as we usually call him is the pride of our farm:
winner of the Derby, St Leger, 1000 Guineas and Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe,"
Luke explains proudly. "Definitely the fastest horse alive, possibly the
best horse ever; a toss-up with Shergar for that one, I suppose. Current
stud fees are 1.2 million pounds! And if the next crops of foals are as
good as the first ones, it is likely to increase. He has sired one Derby
winner already."
      The stallion at that moment is being led into the room and the sight
takes my breath away. He is magnificent: a tall, elegant chestnut who
excitedly shuffles back and forth as he smells the mare. There is not a
gram of fat on him; all muscle, sinew, velvety skin and raw
adrenalin-fuelled might. Chris puts his hand on my bum and gives it an
encouraging squeeze.
      "Happy birthday, Adam. There's your present, I hope you like it," he
whispers into my ear.
      Prince of Manitoba evidently knows where he is and he knows why he is
there. As he stands regally in the centre of the stall, his cock starts to
slide down from its sheath. And it just keeps coming ... Although the
stallion is one of the tallest horses I have ever seen, his cock, when it
finally stops its descent, almost seems to reach the floor.
      "Oh my fucking God!" I murmur unintentionally, making Luke who heard
me laugh out loud.
      "He's a big boy, alright." He bends over towards me and whispers into
my ear, "you'd better make sure that you are ready for him," revealing that
he knows why we are really here.
      The stud by now is ready to take possession of the nervously waiting
mare, his long supple dick having turned into a massive, thick and
rock-solid pole. He jumps with his front legs onto her back and bites hard
into the quilt covering her neck. His hind legs are bucking, his manhood
stabbing wildly at her. When he finds her pussy, a huge shunt sends most of
his cock deep into the target; the next ones plough in deeper still until
there is nothing more to give. With ragged, violent jerks he fucks the mare
ferociously for several minutes before he lowers himself, shuddering. His
long softening tool slowly slides from her body, a long string of sticky
cum the last connection between their bodies.
      The show over, I inhale in deeply; I think I may have forgotten to
breathe for the duration.
      "Fucking hell. He is a violent lover."
      I get another bum squeeze from Chris and when I turn towards him I
see for the first time that he has been recording the entire event on the
new camcorder.
      "That will make a nice intro for the main performance," he says just
hard enough for the three of us to hear.

      Not long afterwards, Luke sees us to our car, chatting amicably with
Chris about their teenage years. When we are about to drive off, he leans
forward through the open window.
      "See you guys at 9 tonight," he says softly. "The main gate will be
closed, but I'll open up for you when you arrive."

      By now it is past 5 o'clock and Chris suggests we go for an early
dinner, something light to prevent my belly being too full later tonight. I
drive to Cambridge where we find a nice looking sushi restaurant. Dinner
doesn't take long and an hour later he takes a bag from the hold-all in the
boot of the rental car.
      "We can leave the car; the next place we are going is walking
distance from here," my friend says, leading the way.
      The next place turns out to be a sauna, and I immediately know that
it mainly caters for a gay clientele. Chris' naked body attracts quite a
few lustful looks as we make our way to the hot room, and rightly so,
because he is one of the most attractive men alive. I proudly walk close
against him, possessively slinging my hand around his waist. I love gay
saunas, not just the heat and cold treatment, but also that particular
semi-erotic atmosphere of a room of naked men, ogling each other virtually
unashamedly. I've never been attracted to dark-rooms, but you can take me
to a sauna any day. I pull my boyfriend towards me and kiss him roughly,
grinding my cock against his to tell those around us that this beau is
already taken.
      We spend a leisurely time in the steam rooms, dunking into the cold
baths from time to time, until Chris interrupts my train of thought.
      "It is almost seven thirty, so we should get on."
      He picks up his bag from the changing room and heads down a quiet
corridor.
      "They do private rooms here too."
      He leads me into a room, where a large padded massage table is
waiting for me. I'm urged to hop on and Chris coats my back with
oil. Slowly and sensuously, he rubs it into my skin, kneading my shoulders
and back muscles as he moves closer and closer to the final destination.
      "And now for your next special birthday treat..."
      While he massages my bum cheeks, Chris bends over my body and slowly
licks along the crack. His long tongue pushes into my cherry, wriggling to
relax the tight muscle. I groan and tense up at the unexpected pleasure; it
is rare that I am on the receiving end of a rimming. With my hole suitably
open, my lover greases up his arm and I know that the preparations for
later tonight are beginning in earnest. I get onto my knees, sticking my
arse high up into the air.
      "...and relax..."
      After the tongue treatment that advice is unnecessary, because I am
as relaxed as I will ever be, and the slippery fingers slide into me
easily, two ... three ... Chris takes his time to open me up fully, giving
my arse the chance to accommodate before adding another finger and finally
his thumb. Completely relaxed, I fully enjoy the sensation of his large
fist gliding past my sphincter and ever deeper into my gut. The thrusts are
almost in slow motion, but that doesn't make it less pleasurable, on the
contrary. When my body envelopes his entire arm, he twists his wrist
stimulating my gut in an extraordinary way.
      "Oh Christ, Yes! More please ... like that ... yeah ..."
      The tempo of the fisting increases rapidly, until Chris' arm pumps
through me like a piston. I desperately try to postpone my orgasm, but it
is impossible feeling this much stimulation. Moaning, I cum on the towel
underneath me when an elbow smashes into my prostate. The limb inside my
arse slowly retracts and after the balled fist has popped out, Chris digs
in the bag.
      "Look! I got you another new toy."
      He is holding up an oversized dildo - more than 16 inches long and at
least 4 wide, I'd guess - which he slides easily into my welcoming
behind. The attached straps form a harness, going around my groin and
through my crack to a band around my waist. The belt effectively prevents
the invader from being expelled.
      As it is time to go back to farm, I want to wrap the towel around me
to hide the dildo from view while we walk to the changing rooms, but my
boyfriend puts his hand on my arm.
      "Let them see it and wonder how big that thing is," he says smiling.

      Driving the car back to the farm, I wriggle in my seat, moving the
big dildo inside me. Every speed bump or pothole forces the thing deeper
into my gut, and I do nothing to avoid the bumps.
      Luke must have been waiting for us, because the gate to Birchfield
opens before we come to a standstill. Except for the illuminated windows of
the cottage, the site is completely dark. This welcome is more personal,
now that there are no witnesses. Luke pulls my boyfriend against him and
they go into a long, hard-worked snog, their hands straying over the
other's body. When they finally disengage, I am next, although the kiss is
shorter and less intense. One of our host's hands squeezes me against his
muscled frame, my hard-on caught between our bodies. The other roams over
my arse, teasing the dildo deeper.
      "You are ready and rearing to go, I notice."
      He leads us into the mating centre.
      "I am the only one to live on site," he explains on the way, "so
outside the foaling season, it is deserted after evening stables at 7
o'clock."
      We go into a different room than the one where we saw Prince of
Manitoba mate this afternoon. In the centre stands a padded frame vaguely
shaped like a cubist horse. Above the 'hind legs' a large hole obviously
invites the stallion to penetrate it.
      "This is normally used to take sperm samples. We screw a rubber fake
vagina on the hole and let the stallion do what it does best. I thought we
could use it to protect you from the Prince's hoofs and teeth ... Why are
you still dressed?"
      I need no more encouragement and kick off the few garments I'm
wearing and remove the harness on my dildo. Luke has positioned a box under
the frame and when I stand on it, bent sharply at the hips, my arse lines
up perfectly with the one on the fake horse.
      "Eeeexcelent," Luke says in a passable 'Mr Burns' impersonation.
      "I am not sure I can stand like this for very long," I say, trying to
stay upright in an uncomfortable and precarious balance.
      "No worries!"
      A wide canvas belt comes into view and straps my chest and upper arms
to the wooden plank above me, which is supposed to be the horse's back. A
second belt does the same to my lower arms and belly, while a third one
fixes my hips to the frame. In no time, I am helplessly hanging from the
straps underneath the fake horse, but that is not enough yet for Luke. The
box is moved from under me and four more bands tie both thighs and both
lower legs to the legs of the 'horse'. Now I am almost an integral part of
the frame and my butt won't shift more than an inch from the 'glory hole'.
       "I am going to get some vaginal fluid from one of the mares in heat
to make you smell more attractive."
      With Luke out of the room, I smile at Chris and at the camera he has
been operating since we entered the room.
      "Not too uncomfortable? You look nervous."
      I tell him I am quite okay, but indeed rather anxious; hiding the
fact that having my arms tied to my sides is rather disconcerting. Luke,
having returned, pulls the dildo from my arse, whistling impressed at the
size of the thing.
      "You've had this up your bum for the last two hour? Impressive! I
suppose you need to be able to do that if you plan to be fucked by the
Prince."
      When he has wiped my behind with a cloth, I am ready for my next big
horse adventure. After the ferocious show this afternoon, I am very
apprehensive about what he will do to me, but 'Hell!' I am hot for this.

      The sound of hoofs on the concrete floor makes my mouth go dry
instantly.
      "How does he look?" I ask Chris croakily. The camera, which had been
fixed on my body, pans to record the beast who will take my arse.
      "Gorgeous! Powerful and full of energy. His muscles ripple under his
shiny chestnut coat. He seems to be really horny ... he is shivering with
excitement and his cock is dropping pretty fast."
      A soft whinny from the Prince of Manitoba sounds like he is feeling
as excited as I am.
      "His cock is fully out now and it is getting hard, very hard. Good
grief, it looks even larger than this afternoon! He has found your arse and
he is smelling you now."
      I can feel the stallion's warm breath on my exposed bum. A sudden
lick of his long tongue at my crack manages to surprise me and I almost let
out a rather girlish squeal. I had prepared for a hard fuck, not another
gentle rimming.
      I don't need to wait long.
      A crash on the frame above me and the appearance of the stallion's
front hoofs on either side of my head signify the start of the action. For
a few moments nothing seems to happen.
      "He is bumping into the frame. Luke is going to help him aim at your
hole."
      A second later my arse seems to explode in red hot agony. Seriously,
I think it has finally been ripped apart. And I don't get the time to
accommodate to the invasion, 'cause the next shunt follows almost
immediately. I groan loudly almost directly into the microphone of the
camera of Chris who crouches underneath my body get an unobstructed view of
my arse being breached.
      "He's about halfway in, Adam."
      Oh my God, I am full already! I can't take more cock, certainly not
twice as much. I scream when another drive of Prince's powerful muscles
forces some into me anyway. It hurts so badly! God, it hurts!
      The stallion, oblivious and indifferent to my suffering, keeps
bucking and thrusting violently, knowing only that he can stuff more of his
manhood into the mare beneath him and eager to do it as hard and fast as
possible. And he is succeeding, because each shove manages to push his tool
just a little deeper than before, forcing my body to make space where there
isn't any.
      "Just about six inches to go, love."
      I had thought that my experiences with Lilliput had prepared me for
anything, but now I know that he had merely fucked me. This is real rape!
This is what happens when a sadistic psychopath decides to take you as
brutally as he wishes, no matter what. This is sheer unadulterated
violence! I feel how the stallion's dickhead forces a path through my
screaming gut. I feel how the incredibly fat base of his cock stretches my
arse further than Lilliput or Chris had ever managed. My body cannot take
anymore pain, but I am helpless against the power of the thoroughbred.
      However, I am so fucking hard, that I fear my cock might burst from
all the blood squeezing in. My balls are so full of cum from experiencing
the most violent and most erotic rape imaginable, that they must be visible
from space. I am heading for the biggest, most intense orgasm of my life!
      The invader is no longer going any deeper and the horse's motions
change.  Instead of the fast, short shunts that forced the initial
penetration, he now fucks me with ever longer, but still forceful, thrusts
that make the leathery cock slide along my prostate.
      "Is he all the way in now, Chris? Please, tell me there is no more to
come." I can barely speak anymore, and when I get no answer I fear that the
quiet whispers are inaudible.
      I look over towards my boyfriend and notice for the first time how he
is on his knees fucking Luke doggy-style, the camera still pointing at the
huge equine rod that runs me through. I'd been so preoccupied with the
brutal rape of my arse that I failed to hear their groans.
      "He is in up to his balls, Adam," Luke answers breathlessly. "He is
pulling out, how much is that, 16 maybe 20 inches and slamming it back in
all the way, again and again and again ..."
      The repetitions of 'again' make me realise that Chris has in fact
synchronised the fucking of his teenage crush with the tempo of the horse's
thrusts into my battered body.
      "... How can you stand it, Adam? How much horse meat can you take up
there? Oh man, that looks so hot! Ahhh..."
      An even harder and deeper shove of my boyfriend's tool silences the
man underneath him.
      How can I stand it? This phase is in fact easier than the first
penetration. Yes, my bowel feels like it may tear every time the fat head
is rammed through and my arse almost rips when Prince forces some of his
sheath down my chute. But at least the path has already been cleared and my
internal organs are no longer pummelled to the side to make space of the
humongous invader.
      The long-dicking that I am receiving, is getting ever faster and more
brutal and the agony in my belly increases as a result. I am praying that
Prince will start cumming soon, because I am now definitely reaching my
limit. My tool is getting harder still, though. I am about to shoot
myself. My massive cum-filled balls are pulled tight against my belly.
      How long has it been going on? It feels like an hour, but it probably
isn't more than ten minutes. Finally, I feel the familiar flow of horse cum
filling my gut. In contrast to Lilliput, though, Prince keeps fucking me
throughout, pushing the copious amount of juice deeper and deeper with each
thrust. More than a million pounds worth of cum is being pumped deep inside
me. The incredible feeling of the massive horse dick driving through my cum
dump of a gut is enough to send me over the edge to and, screaming in
ecstasy and crying in agony, I have the most intense orgasm I have ever
experienced.
      Limply I hang from the straps that hold me up, letting myself drift
off, for once glad to feel the hollowness after a horse cock has pulled out
of my arse. I know this rape was too violent and too painful ... but I also
know that in a couple of weeks, when the pain has dies down and the edge
has been taken of the distress, I will be yearning for that feeling again.
      "Oh fuck, Adam, you're bleeding!"
      I have to force myself to pay attention. "That doesn't surprise me."
I have trouble staying with it. "How bad is it? Just a little blood or a
lot?"
      I am gone before I get an answer.

      "I don't know what you did, Mr Sanders, nor do I want to know to be
honest, but it was very, very dangerous."
      I woke up in hospital several minutes ago, a worried looking Chris at
my side, and an earnest looking doctor hovering nearby.
      "You have extensive internal bruising throughout your abdomen, a tear
in the spleen, causing internal bleeding and a tear in the large intestine,
causing the rectal bleeding. We've repaired the damage during a keyhole
operation and you should recover completely, but you have been very
lucky. If the damage to the spleen had been slightly more serious, you
would have bled to death before we could have done anything."
      I look appropriately shameful.
      "Can I suggest that nothing goes up there for at least three months?"
the surgeon continues. "And after three months nothing bigger than a penis
..." He looks meaningfully at Chris and me. "A human penis!"