Author's Note
Thank you for reading this mini story, which was written as a commission for Coaldust and Greenhoof!
A short story (part of a mini series) containing straight erotica with anthro ponies, milking, lactation, groping and implied interaction between female ponies. This is intended to be short and erotic, although I would very much like to delve deeper into the world of Equestria if the opportunity presents itself in a lengthier, more detailed tale. This is very short and sweet, intending to stoke the fires, and I'd honestly love to see more of what happens at this little tavern!
I'm always open for commissions, if fancied, and have a strong gallery of furry stories at my back!
Milking the Mares
The Twelve Kinks of Christmas
Milking
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by Coaldust and Greenhoof
Milkmaid Tavern was a popular spot for travellers and locals alike, set in a small town called Coltventry, which was to be found en route to Canterlot from Ponyville in the foothills of the mountains, if a pony was to travel by hoof rather than train. It attracted a steady clientele throughout the year, renowned for their craft ciders and spectacular food – a far cry from the bland fare of Canterlot restaurants – but it was, without fail, most popular during the winter months when Hearth’s Warming Eve approached.
Ponies, clip-clopping on two legs rather than the traditional four of their ancestors, bustled to and fro within the warm glow of the tavern as the barmaid chuckled and levitated a brimming mug of eggnog to the newest patron, who had had the boldness of hoof to ask her just how they managed to make such a divine drink? For it positively tingled on the tongue, slipping down the throat with the finesse of many years of experience in the making. He slammed a hoof into the bar top, making his mug jump, but the barmaid only shook her head and chuckled, claiming – not for the first time that night – that it was a trade secret and she couldn’t possibly reveal such a thing for fear of losing the bar owner’s business, built from the ground up, don’t you know.
He’d find out soon enough, she warranted, as she absently polished a glass with a cloth, clasping the fabric gently with the green glow of her magic. The tavern’s secret, however, lay in the back room of the bar, out of sight of foals accompanying their parents, but within easy enough reach that any patrons who wished could know exactly where the eggnog milk came from. And enjoy the effects of the milking, of course.
Eggnog for the pub, of course, needed milk to be produced. And what better way to acquire it than from the best mares in Equestria? Although it was not simply their milk that the tavern utilised in the making of the finest eggnog in Equestria, oh no. Freshness was vital and their mares were hard working ponies indeed!
Coaldust, a pony with a sleek grey coat and purple mane and tail, groaned on her knees in the back room where eight needy mares had been lined up, breasts strapped into the milking machines that would draw their milk until exhaustion trembled through their limbs. Her arms had been bound behind her back, paws clasped together so that her breasts were on full display, large and heavy with the milk she produced for her tavern. Although it was not strictly necessary for appropriate milking, she was bare but for her natural coat, arousal gleaming on the exposed lips of her sex, nestled between her thighs.
Patrons whooped as the mares squealed and shifted, each bound in place on their knees, more for show than any notion of keeping them in place. They had allowed the mares, initially, to be milked in the public room without the aid of shiny leather bondage straps, but had found, to their surprise, that the mares had enjoyed it. It had been a hit with customers – allowing ponies to grope and tease the mares as much as they wished while they were on public display – and, thus, the tradition continued, year after year.
Greenhoof, Coaldust’s partner in love and in managing their second pub – a retreat from The Ebol Bychan back in Ponyville, which was their main venture – strolled down the line of mares, a small, black crop clasped in his yellow-furred paw. While his sweetheart was working in their tavern, it was part of his role to ensure the mares were happy and looked after while strapped into the milking machines, a job that the stallion took on with pleasure that bulged through his latex trousers, covering his cutie mark while his chest remained bare. He tapped a white mare, with a perfectly curled mane and tail in deep purple, on the diamond cutie mark upon her rump – not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her jerk straight, tail lifted as she squirmed under the attention.
He would never have thought that Rarity would have liked taking a break from running her boutiques to work at a tavern, but he could not deny that the money for their mares was excellent indeed. Bits of all values littered the floor before the mares, to be shared out equally at the end of the night; anything the mares made in tips would be kept by them and them alone. He smiled and shook his head, running his fingers lightly through Rarity’s mane as the mare whinnied and bucked her hips, the cups secured to her breasts pulling them out from her body as they sucked. And a lady had to indulge her kinks, from time to time, after all.
He paused at Coaldust, letting his gaze sweep over her body. A bridle encased her muzzle, the bit at the back of her mouth not disallowing speech, but giving her a decidedly erotic edge. She was a working mare, however, and it was a working mare she would be treated.
Cupping her chin in one paw, he turned her muzzle up to him, blowing her a kiss as the less adventurous patrons shouted requests, asking him to do all manner of things to his mare. He winked to her, knowing that, very soon, they would work out that they could simply step forward and take charge themselves with all manner of kinky desires. It was always the most fun part of the night when a colt got to take his first swat at a mare’s full, jiggling rump.
“Got to make more milk for the pub now, my sweet, haven’t we?” Greenhoof whispered, stroking Coal’s muzzle as she nickered and pushed into his paw, seeking a treat. “Our pub is doing well and it’s all because of you and your mares, our little pub herd here.”
Coal shivered at the praise, arching her back to thrust her breasts out, pulling down under their own weight as the milking cups sucked and pulled around her teats. Her milk flowed into the clear cups, showing observers a flash of what they would shortly be receiving as the machine drew it smoothly away, down the tube into the metal contraption, partly powered by a very helpful unicorn’s magic, ready for the pub to utilise as only they could.
The stallion frowned, tail flicking as he surveyed the crowd. Whereas the pub was utilising the mares well that night for milking, it seemed that the patrons were particularly shy.
Well, he’d just have to go and change that then!
Lifting Coal, he turned her about so that the room was presented with her large, round rump, bending her forward so that her breasts swayed beneath her chest. The mare groaned as she was handled, arching her back to push up her backside, tail flicking out of the way to reveal her pulsing sex, twitching and winking as she drew the crowd to a chorus of appreciative whistles and murmurs. Greenhoof grinned. Coal never failed to play the crowd, whether they were a shy bunch or the boldest of the lot.
“Come now!” Greenhoof neighed encouragingly, slamming a yellow hoof into the polished floorboards. “These mares are up here for your attention!”
He smiled charmingly, disarming even the most nervous patron with a smile that could have won over a dragon.
“Do you want to leave them all cold and wanting up here?”
The guests, stallions and mares alike, murmured to one another, none seeming to want to be the first to join them on the ‘stage’. But as Greenhoof spread Coal’s sex for them, fingers dipping lightly into her hot marehood, a trembling red stallion with an orange mane and tail downed his drink and stood, wiping the back of his paw across his lips. On the shoulder of his jacket, someone had stitched a bright green apple – his cutie mark. Greenhoof grinned and squeezed Coaldust’s rump. It was impossible not to recognise Big Mac.
“You, sir!” Greenhoof winked and stepped back from Coal, bowing with a flourish. “Will you be the first, this very fine evening, to enjoy the pleasures of my mate?”
The stallion shook his head, a grin spreading wickedly across his strong, blocky muzzle.
“Nope!”
A stallion of few words, he stepped up, foregoing the offered crop from Greenhoof, and brought the flat of his paw down on Coal’s upturned backside. It was not hard enough to really hurt, but brought enough of a sting to her flesh to warm her, the mare grunting and jerking forward in her bondage. Big Mac smirked and tossed his head, pulling up her tail as he slid his paw around her body, running it up her stomach and teasing over the cups drawing drop after drop of milk from her body.
With the first stallion boldly moving up to join them, other patrons followed suit, some with more tentative hoof steps than others. One by one, they chose a mare – some mares more popular for how they reacted with cute, little squeaks and moans – to play with, groping and enjoying their bodies as the ponies continued to provide milk for their delicious eggnog.
“The more you tease them, the better the drinks shall be!” Greenhoof encouraged, taking leave of the stage to let the tavern patrons have all the fun they’d paid for. “Look at how much milk my mare is producing even now – just from that!”
It was true. All heads turned to Coal, the mare shuffling awkwardly to the side so the ever growing crowd could see how milk sloshed about the suction cups over her large breasts, flesh pulling away from her body as the machine whirred and struggled to keep up with every drop. The mare nickered and tossed her head, rolling her chest into the delightful sensation, sucking and pulling against each of her breasts. She swore they got larger after a milking session, though really they should have been drained. No matter how much milk was taken from her, she never seemed to run out of it, her body replenishing her delicious produce as quickly as the machine could draw it from her.
Groaning, Coaldust played her tongue under the bit gag and arched back as two fingers eased into her cunny. She didn’t know whether it was her partner or Big Mac or some pony else entirely, but could not find it in herself to care. The room took on an erotic glow, the sounds of revelry mingling with ponies enjoying themselves in a carnal manner, neighs and grunts blending together sensually.
And it was all for their bar and their mares who loved to be milked, all for the pleasure of the ponies they entertained there. Coal flushed with pleasure, casting her eyes down the line of needy mares enjoying the attention, some with more than fingers buried in their dripping snatches. Even the mares got into teasing the ‘milk maids’, squeezing around their breasts and acting as if they were trying to sneak a taste of the milky deliciousness. Coal chuckled breathlessly as whichever stallion that had decided to play with her curled his fingers up against that patch of nerves inside her passage that made her heart jump, arms pulling helplessly against the leather bondage around her wrists.
There was no hope of escape and, the funny thing was, Coal wouldn’t have changed it for anything else.
They would be locked in the milking machines for many hours yet, but the time spent in them would lead them into a relaxed and deep slumber. Until the day began again, of course, and they trotted to their duties, a neat and eager little herd lining up for Greenhoof to strap them into their bondage gear and place the cups tenderly over each of their breasts.
Starting with Coal, of course.
