The fountain of youth is found in the face of innocence
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The fountain of youth is found in the face of innocence
Author's Note
On D/s grammar:
Hello, Dear Reader! You might catch that the submissive character has her name left without capitalization for most of the short. It is voluntary, being an integral part of the dialectic of such a relation. I hope it doesn't take away from your reading experience. Remember this is a gift.
Have a wonderful read!
The fountain of youth is found in the face of innocence
The leash snapped tautly around an iron grip, pulling down a collar fastened loose enough to let in avid, searching fingers. They wrapped around the fur within it, the leather without, and dragged mayor mare faltering and swaying into the strong grasp of her sole Master.
Applejack. Her Burgess Applejack.
A sharp slap across the cheek snapped her back to the present. The warm sting upon her face sent pinpricks of light flying inside her shut eyelids. She struggled to escape the burning sensation of her Master’s brazen skin against hers. Tried and failed. The charged scent of Applejack’s sweat filled mayor mare’s nose as she was pulled up and closer.
Her Mistress’ long breaths brushed against her face, right where the slap made her skin pulse white-hot. It radiated outwards with each purposely-made breeze.
Quickly, the sharp knuckles of Applejack’s hand dug against mayor mare’s throat. With the tightening grip around the collar, the leather edge painfully bit down against the back of mayor mare’s neck.
What She desired, mayor mare would heed.
Eagerly.
Her lips teetered apart as a wash of arousal pumped through her backside. She kept her eyes closed to better drink in the sensations. Her legs haggard and heavy, she stood subdued in front of Applejack and crooked forward. Only to be held up by the biting collar. She reached at it with her hands, vainly fighting for a comfort she was not afforded, tiptoeing for air.
Her Burgess, exuding carnal power and judgemental hunger, spat at mayor mare’s face. In her gasp, she missed the slur that flew with it.
“More,” mayor mare rasped, trying not to touch that powerful hand that kept her standing by the neck.
“I know how to take care of my stock,” Applejack said, her common drawl erased by the snap of her tone.
What Applejack wished, mayor mare would fulfill indeed.
Her Burgess swung her to the side, ragdolled with enough momentum she slipped and she hung to the collar that held her like a rope. The front of her feet dragged against the grainy floorboard. She coughed, clawing to hold on the collar that burned around her neck — a fire that mixed with the drowsiness born from being robbed of any slivers of autonomy.
“And my stock don’t beg.”
Applejack swung her on the other side where mayor mare was sent falling on her back against a bed of hay. Her shoulders thumped painfully against the hard flooring hidden beneath.
The hand that leashed her rotated in and out, and flew up to clasp her muzzle shut. mayor mare’s muffled gasp went unheard.
In the hot summer night outside Applejack’s most isolated barn, the cicadas populated the sticky, humid air buzzed and clicked loud and clear. Enough music to cover the sins of the couple within, given a quidam would come. But for all intents and purposes, those breeding insects would be Applejack and mayor mare’s sole witnesses.
And they both liked it that way.
In that moment when air failed to slither through mayor mare’s locked-up lips, the tug from the very leash she’d forgotten even existed went limp. Following close, a second set of fingertips brushed against her navel and chest, only to end their course against one of her petite breasts.
They clawed into her flesh. Rugged and harsh; causing many silky sparks to careen along her quivering limbs. mayor mare’s fingers crackled with numbed spasms.
Applejack’s adventurous hand kept mayor mare sunk deep into the hay — she worshipped that strength that pressed her back rubbing against the bale. The stinging split ends of the bedding, scraping like long nails against her skin, sent shivers running down her spine. mayor mare wormed her contorting body to better feel the pressure, the fingers, the pain. And Applejack’s other hand, coarsely shut around her muzzle, forced her to turn her head to the side.
Moans and purs rumbled in mayor mare’s throat, until Applejack’s knee bent in a jerk and rapped against her nether parts. She tensed, batting her legs… and in the hurry hit her Burgess’ backside.
mayor mare gasped and thrashed, choking for air when the hand tightened harder around her lips — like a vice. Cold sweat sprung off her back and febrile legs. She lurched and fell immobile, limp and submitted, only to offer her neck for a callous hand to punish. She ought to be, she deserved to, she wanted to.
The dough doesn’t strike back against the Sculptor.
“Open your eyes,” was ordered.
She didn’t quickly enough. The hand that locked her jaw surged down around her throat.
With candlelight pouring down from a yellowed ceiling bulb, her Burgess’ face and towering stature were cast in shadows. Only her green eyes and a few freckles caught reflections of light.
Still withholding air from her willful victim, Applejack released her breast and snapped her free fingers around mayor mare’s aching sack.
mayor mare arched back at the intense burning, that feverish half-stiffness that radiated between her legs. She gagged with her obstructed throat. Her craving unabash, she tasted the acrid bile with bliss.
Applejack’s thumb, searching down below, pushed slightly inward against mayor mare’s flaccid parts like an artist’s chisel upon soft marble. Another shiver rumbled out from her thighs outward in a drunken and electric burst. She groaned, spasmed… shuddered.
The heavenly feeling of sinking under warm waters wrapped her mind into listless awe. Eyes unfocused, seeing double, she stuck out her tongue to lap at the salty beads of sweat that rained down from her goddess above.
The night creeped around mayor mare’s vision. She basked in it. Giddiness. Pain. Lust. A vaporous anguish. Her dick throbbing, weakly stiffened to a notch above its generic flaccid, it was held wholly within the large, chastising hand of her Burgess. A cage of fingers that jerked her about.
She forgot that exquisite feeling, and the feeling of her own skin. The sensation in her back legs, hands, and ears felt far away. Then gone.
Only rolling darkness as her sight shuddered out. Only bliss and oblivion.
Oblivion.
Bliss.
And her Burgess’ release.
mayor mare bolted for air, thrusting forward only to meet a barring hand that cast her back down into the hay. As weightlessness vanished as it had come, mayor mare watched Applejack stand above her and carry her legs till she rode her on, a smirk splitting her shadowed face.
Applejack sat down with force, wrestling another grunt from mayor mare who haplessly closed her own lips with both her fidgeting hands.
She ought not speak, lest she was commanded to.
And given to watch, and especially to feel, mayor mare sensed the supple rubbing against her dick. She held herself from rushing her hands down to take part in pleasure’s genesis. She was a tool, and she would act like it!
So mayor mare watched. She marveled at the wet threads that barely glinted in the subdued light as they linked her own little hen to the beautiful lips of her Burgess’ new vulva.
Through pain, courage and time, Applejack had obtained the plump accessory she sought: a vulva proper she was prideful to have, and now was eager to try, and greedy to satisfy.
And mayor mare was only quivering to be plied to it. An instrument of her Master’s pleasure, she splayed herself on the hay and held her hands above her hands. Her pelvis slightly pushed up to better contact with her Master. Her teeth pinched on her lower lip.
Applejack ground against mayor mare’s with lovely grunts — tensing, jerking back and forth. She would only part contact only for split seconds where mayor mare arched herself up as if begging. Then Applejack would achingly tumble back down to build the enchanting friction that now tore moans away from them both.
mayor mare’s supple penis pulsated, chivered, leaked. But despite everything, it was never up, never properly stiff. And yet arcs of lightning blasted outwards like dashes of fire that blinded and deafened her. Skin, skin, skin; it overrode sight, smell, and taste alike.
She basked.
Only for bliss to be taken away, in the shape of a powerful smack across the face.
“You can’t even satisfy me with that excuse of yours,” Applejack managed to utter between two breathless pants, her face reddened with sweat and a wicked, giddy grin. She worked at it again, tousling in crescendos forth and back.
An excuse, it was. mayor mare knew it. An excuse she shuddered with, with ecstasy as each of her Burgess’ juts, sometimes merely feathering, but most often savage, thundering over her titillating tool of sin.
At such a treatment, mayor mare pulsed. Divested of strength, she let herself sway along with Applejack’s crouched desires. Until her Burgess slowly strained, gradually falling back down into a shuddering sitting stance.
She crossed eyes with mayor mare, and slapped her again.
The blow petrified her into a listless stupor; the burning sensation whitening the world around her.
When mayor mare came to, two wicked hands had locked on her shoulders like a bar to rest on and Applejack redoubled in intensity. Lacking breath, each puff of air came out into lustful grunts. And a hint of drool down her lips.
mayor mare smiled and Applejack caught it.
And Applejack stopped.
“If you’re having a blast,” she growled, seizing her jaw with a forceful hand that betrayed a hidden febrility, “better put those lips to use.”
Applejack cracked her joints as she stumbled up, nearly falling back down face first. Between two rough pants, she elected to reel forward on her four legs.
She came to crouch on her knees right above mayor mare’s face.
It was beautiful. mayor mare admired the vulva as it stood above her, clean and slick with a finely trimmed tuft of hair to crown it in its magnificence — garnered with glistening filaments that dripped down from it. mayor mare tasted herself in it. That slight salty bitterness. Overall, the warmth and softness of her Burgess leaked raw strength as her thighs pulsed and gleamed with rolling sweat. Her skin, both an apollonian and venus canvas that would spark envy if not for the unabashed love and admiration mayor mare had always felt.
mayor mare chuckled and smiled again, closing her drooling mouth she could not recall opening. Her Burgess could have fit a ball gag in it. Applejack…
Drawing in a short breath to brought her reverie to an end, she swallowed and sheepishly looked up, her eyes going past the object of her selfish lust, upward at the judging stare of her Master.
She was shaking her head. “Ya thirsty slut.”
She came down hard, her large thighs and legs locking around the sides of mayor mare’s head. She gasped only for her lips to meet Hers, mouth and nose buried into far, sinew and muscles.
Heaving for air that would not come, mayor mare stuck her tongue out and tasted her Burgess for the first time: the privilege of a slight sweet aftertaste, light as it intermixed with sweat and her own fluids.
Her tongue worked each lip one after the other. Long, perpendicular moves she took care to make last with the little air she had. She relished the feeling of the slight, wet scraping the plateau of her tongue offered against her Burgess’ skin. And with each pass, the tension rippled through her Burgess’ body and carried down into her face and cheeks. A delight she created diligently, each tremor its own kind of currency.
Applejack’s blood pounded through her legs and into mayor mare’s eardrums. A rumbling music of feminine flesh. mayor mare thrust her hands forward and around to hold herself on Applejack’s waist and rapaciously forced herself into the fold.
She worked at it like ice cream — around, over, between. Sucking wherever her lips could lust over. And with it all, as masterful as a sub could be, she provoked little nothings, grunts and moans, euphoric roils that bent her Burgess back and forth. A whimper of melted ecstasy.
Applejack crooked forward and clasped her hand around mayor mare’s penis and made lavish work of it, wrapping its flaccidness between her fingers.
mayor mare jerked, trembled, and raved. She never stopped. Still holding on tight, she infused her being into her torment and her gift to her Burgess. Tide after tide of drunken fire rippled through Applejack and down past her legs where mayor mare tasted its intensity at the tip of her ceaseless tongue.
And the pleasure was hers too, fingers forced against her dick, thigh, navel and breasts one after the other. There was no terra incognita for Applejack. A field to plough. mayor mare sought pleasure in pain. But there was no pain anymore.
Just Applejack.
And their redolent waltz...
“You passed out.”
“Uh…” mayor mare opened her eyes and found herself in the embrace of her love’s trusted arms. “Oh.”
“You scared me.”
Mayor Mare rubbed her cheeks and chin, finding them sticky and smelly. She blinked one eye after the other and felt the tiredness settle through her body. She was going to be so sore later that day.
“It was nice,” Mayor Mare whispered, turning around to catch a glimpse of her love.
The ceiling candlelight had long died and only the faint light of dawn peered through the lintels of the barn’s roof. She crawled her arms around Applejack’s torso and held onto her shoulder blades, her face firmly resting under her chin and against her chest. Her cheeks hurt nicely.
“You know I’m a bit wary whenever you can’t say your safeword.” She muttered, closing into a hug herself. “I nearly thought you called it when you locked around my waist.”
Mayor Mare nodded, breathing slowly, in near cadence with the heavy and paced thudding of Applejack’s heart. “I loved it, hun. Though, you could have spanked me a bit too.”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, we can still go for round two.”
Mayor Mare studied the offer. And grinned. “Might as well.”
As neither moved, they both tightened their embrace and Mayor Mare reached up for Applejack’s long, disheveled hair. She combed her fingers through ‘them straw-strands,’ as Applejack loved to call them. Mayor Mare called it a golden cascade.
“You need a shower,” Mayor Mare said, wrinkling her nose. She shuffled a bit and slid one of her feet in between Applejack’s legs, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of her taut skin.
“All the same to ya.” Applejack lifted a hand and brushed off a clump of hair that covered part of Mayor Mare’s face. She went on to kiss her and she answered the same.
As they parted, Mayor Mare snuggled deeper, digging herself slightly between Applejack and the hay, feeling a bit of her love’s weight bearing down on her. In such a position, Applejack’s heavy breaths brushed against her hair and forehead. Mayor Mare curled slightly and Applejack closed around her in a spoon.
Mayor Mare liked her body heat, her body’s firmness, and the steadiness she exuded. She could stay like that forever.
And Applejack reciprocating told her she loved it too.
The sun had risen and pierced into the barn in streaks of yellowed, dusty light when they shifted again.
“I ordered a strap-on,” Mayor Mare said in a whisper.
“Kinky slut.” She could hear the smirk on Applejack’s face.
“I think you misunderstand me,” Mayor Mare snickered, looking up from the crux of Applejack’s neck and into her gleaming olive eyes.
Applejack hummed.
“Next time’s my turn to lead, farmgirl.”
