The Ties that Bind

It was pretty uncommon for Leech to travel to Canterlot, since it was neither a cheap nor short trip, but she’d recently made a windfall of bits from some questionable investing. The train ride had been long and boring, with perilously little to keep her occupied, but she eventually found herself in the resplendent capital. With her trusty satchel hung from her shoulder, and a to-do list of sights to see and places to visit, she traipsed off of the passenger car and into the bustling metropolis.

While she wasn’t normally one to visit bigger cities, having had a number of unfortunate experiences in the past, there were things she simply couldn’t find living in a podunk little village. Everything from upscale eateries to high-end adult shops awaited her, but there was one particular place she’d been dying to see - the Zebrican embassy.

She’d crossed paths with a handful of zebras in the past, all of which being exceptionally pleasant, but she hadn’t seen or spoken with one in ages - as such, she figured it would be nice to give their consulate a look-see. Though being distantly related to ponies, the striped equines had a rich, unique culture that she’d always been curious about. Besides being a new addition to the city, the consulate was supposedly haunted by one hell of an attractive ambassador, which only heightened her curiosity.

Fishing into her bag, retrieving a bottle of water and a granola bar to snack on, she trotted her way through the metropolis and towards her destination. One thing she particularly disliked about larger towns, besides the hustle and bustle, was that everyone was so impersonal. Throughout her nearly mile-long hike from the train station, not a single pony smiled or waved at her, despite her warmly greeting and nodding to a few denizens; though it was a bit disheartening, she did her best not to let it get to her.

With the sun gently setting in the west, basking the city in the warm glow of evening, the street lamps steadily went alight. She hadn’t reserved anywhere to stay - then again, that wasn’t really a concern. With a number of hotels scattered throughout the settlement, she felt sure she’d find lodging at a reasonable price without too much trouble. Traipsing down the sidewalk, she spotted the embassy ahead.

Though there was nothing obviously marking the building, a Zebrica flag hung just beside the front gate - the front gate which was closed and, if she had to guess, locked. She honestly hadn’t given any thought to the embassy having public hours, though it did make sense. The place was an official consulate, not some convenience store - still, they couldn’t be too angry if she gave the place a peek.

Straying by one corner of the walled property, surreptitiously scanning the area for any onlookers, she innocently stretched her arms over her head. The second her fingers grazed the top of the brick barricade, she secured her grip, sprang upwards, and hopped over the imposing barrier. She’d hopped taller fences in the past, making the task almost laughably easy, but she hoped nobody had spotted her.

Landing within the grounds, hastily taking stock of her surroundings, she marveled at the number of foreign plants about the place. She was familiar with a wide array of native Equestrian vegetation, what with regularly spending her free time in the woods, but a lot of the flora was unfamiliar. Creeping up to a particularly gorgeous bush of flowers, leaning towards one of the vividly colored blossoms, a clearing throat caught her ear.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, unless you wanted to have a small seizure,” a sonorous voice entoned, causing the unicorn mare to go rigid.

He’d first seen her shortly after she’d let herself into the compound, though her motives were yet to be seen. Given her casual attire, lack of equipment, and carefree demeanor, he was left to assume she meant no harm, yet her actions were either exceptionally brazen, foolish, or possibly both. Walking towards her, keeping a dozen paces between them, he waved at the shrub.

“That particular flower has a strong paralytic effect, so I’d be cautious,” he added, watching her shy away from the plant. “Now then, if I may have the name of our uninvited guest…”

While Leech had been startled by the sudden and wholly unforeseen introduction, her surprise gave way to a stunned silence. Standing before her, adorned in a simple loincloth and holding a long-stemmed smoking pipe, was a striped angel. Tall, powerfully built, and with a mohawk trailing from his crown to his neck, the stallion was an adonis. Though she realized he’d asked her something, the question went in one ear and straight out the other.

She had no earthly idea why he was wearing something so scandalous, but she wasn’t about to complain. From his sculpted calves and power thighs to his six-pack abs and broad, chiseled chest, the guy was an absolute stud. By the time her eyes settled on his grinning face, with her mouth already watering, she’d completely forgotten that she’d been trespassing.

“Do we not have a name?” he mused, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Or perhaps you’re unable to speak.”

Attempting to ascertain his guest’s motives, he studied the stricken mare. Her garments were simple, comprised of a pair of decidedly short shorts and a very snug t-shirt, though she was traipsing around barefoot. Between the ill-fitting clothing and lack of footwear, he was left to assume she was destitute, yet he may have been mistaken. Her garb, while somewhat unconventional, wasn’t what primarily held his interest - her figure was.

Relatively short, with a black coat and white marking over her muzzle and upper face, her snowy mane and tail made her appearance rather striking. Outside of her interesting monochromatic color scheme, she sported a modest bust and strikingly large hips. He had no way of knowing if she was a mother, but he felt certain that she was more than capable of carrying and delivering a healthy foal.

“Well,” he pressed, meeting her violet, cat-like eyes, “what is it, mute or mum?”

“Leech,” she blurted, recognizing she had to say something, “the name’s Leech.”

He gave a curt bow, though not deep enough to take his eyes off her. “Ambassador Mkuu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The mention of ‘meet’ crossed a logical wire, bringing her attention to his barely veiled loins. “P...pleasure to meet you too,” she sputtered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not in any trouble am I?”

“That depends,” he chuckled, taking a step closer. “Was there a particular reason you decided to intrude on embassy grounds?”

“The gate was locked and I wanted to look around,” she admitted, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know, I should have just come back tomorrow, but-”

“And did you try the gate?” he interrupted. Walking through the garden, towards the barred entryway, he motioned for her to follow. Peeking over his shoulder, ensuring she wasn’t far behind, he reached the gate, turned the handle, and swung it open. “Our grounds are always open, be it for our citizens or visitors alike.”

The mare facepalmed, cementing his suspicions. She clearly wasn’t the scholarly sort, although her actions smacked of resourcefulness and initiative - even if they weren’t clearly thought out. Smiling to himself, amused with his visitor, he trotted over and extended a hand. With little else to do that evening, he saw no harm in getting to know his intrepid and unexpected company.

“So you’re not going to call the cops on me?” she softly inquired, cocking her head.

“Call the authorities on a bold and beautiful mare like yourself?” he gasped, feigning shock. “Perish the thought - if anything, I would be honored to give you a tour.”

His mention of beautiful set her heart aflutter, and sent blood rushing to her nethers, but she maintained her composure. Whoever the guy was, he was drop dead gorgeous and a flatterer - just the sort of stallion who could and, if she was lucky, would sweep her off her feet. Daintily taking his hand, smirking up at him, she had to force herself not to fawn over him.

Walking at his side, as they made their way into the building itself, she cleared her throat. “Sooooooooo,” she began, slipping a glance at his gently fluttering loincloth, “is that your formal-wear or casual-wear?”

“This,” he quipped, nodding down at the flap of leather, “is the traditional garb of my people. Most of Zebrica is hot and quite arid, so our attire reflects that. We actually have an exhibit regarding our apparel, both the usual and ritualistic, which I’d be happy to show you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Leech waved him forward. “By all means, lead the way!”

Side by side, the two entered the foyer of the embassy. As Leech was quick to discover, the place was massive. Serving as both a consulate and home to the staff housed there, the building held all the creature comforts. From offices and conference halls to bedrooms, no fewer than two kitchens, and an expansive lounge, the facility was equipped to entertain both guests and employees alike.

True to his word, towards the end of his guided tour, Mkuu showed the mare to a display of native arts, tools, and garments. A number of outfits were presented on mannequins, showing how they would actually sit on one’s frame, but one ensemble immediately caught her eye. One dummy wasn’t like the others, wreathed in gold and fine silk.

“Ok,” she chirped, turning to her host, “I have to ask about this one.”

The getup was as provocative as it was dazzling. Slender golden chains hung over and beneath the model’s chest, with bangles and anklets about its limbs. A jeweled peytral hung over its neck, stopping just over the bust, though the bosoms were left almost entirely exposed. The only fabric on the garment, if it could be called that, was a long strip of gossamer thin cloth. In short, attire was both the most expensive and slatternly garment she’d ever seen.

“Ah, you have a fine eye! This was the garment of a past king’s favored consort; while it isn’t by any means common attire, more than likely belonging in a museum, I’ve always had a fondness for it,” Mkuu explained, beaming down at the mare.

Though his smile was genuine, there was another reason behind giving her another look. Truth be told, he’d paid a hefty sum for the ensemble, before he’d left his homeland, and he’d hoped to see it put to use. Being without a regular lover, he was relegated to occasionally relieving himself with mares in the capital. It wasn’t like he held anything against ponies, though he knew he would only ultimately romantically court a female of his own kind.

Native Equestrian mares were pretty cute, and a select few were even downright attractive, yet his pride as a Zebrican demanded that he ultimately settle down with another zebra. His species was a rarity, being born and raised in a comparably harsh land with little resources, so he’d inevitably do his part to bolster their numbers - that being said, he certainly wasn’t opposed to fraternizing with his distant cousins. Trotting around his guest, inspecting her figure, he nodded to himself.

“I know it’s against protocol, but...No, forget I said anything,” he sighed, coming to rest before her.

Leech’s ears perked up, and she raised a brow, curious as to what he’d been about to say. “But…? You can’t just tease a girl like that,” she pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

“Well…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to say that it would look lovely on you. Take no offense, it’s just that-”

“Offense,” she scoffed. “Hell - I’d love to try something like that on! That outfit is probably worth more than all the clothes I’ve ever owned - that and I think I’d look pretty damn sexy in it, if I do say so myself.”

Modesty was a bit of a foreign concept for her, so being able to wear something so decadently depraved would be an honor. There’d been points in her life when she’d had little more to wear than wrongly sized clothing from goodwill shops or, at times, things she’d purloined from donation centers. She really didn’t care how slutty she’d look in the outfit - in fact, she found the prospect of wearing something so extravagant exciting.

Mkuu forced himself to knit his brow and scrunch his nose, unwilling to betray his piquing interest. It had been months since he’d last been treated to any sort of intimacy, and he felt certain that the girl would look ravishing in the garment, though that was no guarantee that he’d get to do more than look at her wearing it. Opening the case, carefully taking the intricate attire from off the mannequin, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Just don’t tell anyone about this. I’d hate for the staff to catch word that I let a pony wear something so valuable,” he whispered, shooting her a wink.

If she thought there was some scandalous element involved, so much the better. Looking to his left and right, ensuring the coast was clear, he briskly began walking down the corridor. The sound of bare feet trailing behind him told him everything he needed to know; the mare was following him, nearly as quiet as a mouse. Only one appropriate place came to mind, for someone to try on something so skimpy - his personal chamber.

Through a winding series of corridors, and up a flight of stairs, he took the long way to his room. There was a shorter, more direct path available, although the chances of him running into any of his fellow dignitaries of staff members; he doubted that any would give him any trouble, should he run into any of them, but he’d rather avoid having to explain why he was guiding a mare to his room. Finally, after a brief stroll, he reached his destination.

“Inside,” he murmured, hastily motioning for her to enter.

Nodding to herself, doing her best not to smile like an idiot, Leech scampered into the chamber. While she hadn’t been sure where he’d been leading her, she got her answer quickly enough. The room wasn’t just any other room, it was a bedroom. Tapestries lined the walls, with a king sized bed resting at the far end of the suite. There were other pieces of furniture, including a wardrobe, dresser, and vanity, but she was too exhilarated to pay them much mind.

If she was lucky, she’d be able to slip into the ornate outfit and ideally be able to tempt the striped stud for a bit of cultural exchange. The short walk to his chamber had been torturous, seeing the cheeks of his sculpted behind gliding past one another, and she was definitely ready to see what he’d been hiding under that loincloth of his. As far as she was concerned, given his generous and extraordinarily pleasant treatment, he’d earned the right to plow the living daylights out of her - that is, if he was into mares.

“I have to admit, you’ve got some really nice digs,” she commented, noticing a bathroom sat to one side. “Now then, since we’ve got a bit of privacy, would you rather I change here or…” she fell silent, pulling at her shirt and revealing her midriff.

Fighting back a snicker, Mkuu held his tranquil smile. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be surprised. Please, feel free to change in there,” he continued, nodding towards the restroom. Leaning in, bringing his snout to the side of her head, he breathed hotly on her ear. “I promise, I won’t peek.”

No sooner did his quiet words hit her than her marehood angrily clenched upon itself. Be damned if she could say all zebras were as smooth as the ambassador, but her panties were already drenched. Gnawing her lip, grinding her thighs together, she sweetly rubbed his bicep. The sensation of his soft coat, above the toned muscle of his arm, caused her to shiver.

Like a striking serpent, unable to control herself, she pecked his cheek, snatched the outfit from his hand, wheeled around, and dashed into the bathroom. She didn’t know if the stud was married or in a relationship, nor did she care; one way or another, she wasn’t going to leave the grounds until she’d gotten some action from the big lug. Closing and locking the door behind herself, tugging her shirt up and over her head, she hastily disrobed.

As the mare disappeared from view, a sinister grin split Mkuu’s muzzle. If she was so enthusiastic to get changed and bear her body for him, he couldn’t wait to see how she’d react to the little surprise he had in store for her. Nonchalantly trotting over to his night stand, he retrieved a small urn and paint brush from the top drawer.

There was a tradition of sorts among his people. If they couldn’t become intimate with one of their own, they’d often mark a prospective lover with stripes. The act was subtly demeaning, inferring that other species were somehow beneath them, but that was part of the charm. Having a mate who willingly degraded themselves held a certain appeal, an appeal he’d grown quite fond of, and he was curious to see her reaction to the proposal of being anointed.

Many mares viewed it as a taboo, especially because of the erotic and foreign nature of zebras, but there were some who relished the act. The simple fact was that, in both Equestria and Zebrica, females were beneath their male counterparts, with pony mares being definitely of lower standing than their striped kin. Hopping onto the bed, placing the crock of white ink beside himself, he flipped his loincloth and began idly stroking his length.

He had her on the ropes, judging from her erect nipples to the faint aroma of lust emanating from her, so bedding her should be a relatively simple task. Even if he didn’t get to paint her body, he still had every intention of giving her an evening she would never forget. Compared to the average pony stallion, his size, experience, and stamina were a force to be feared, so he knew he’d outperform any of his pastel kin. Smugly smiling, as blood rushed into his growing shaft, he awaited his guest.

Staring at her reflection, with her mouth agape, Leech was speechless. The getup had looked pretty good on the blank, white form of the mannequin, but it was provocative beyond words on her. The gold and glittering gemstones accented her frame perfectly, while the translucent fabric over her loins caused her drooling marehood to be easily visible. There was no back of the garb whatsoever, leaving her rear wholly exposed.

Turning in place, basking in just how radiant she appeared, she wondered to what lengths she’d have to go to procure the attire permanently. It wasn’t like she had many spare bits on hand, but there were other, less orthidox means she could compensate the emissary with. Smirking at herself, she reached down and massaged her crotch.

If the sight of a scantily clad mare wasn’t enough to get him worked up, she’d employ every weapon in her sensual arsenal to bend him to her will. He seemed kindly enough, and was friendly to a fault, meaning he shouldn’t be too hard to break - after all, he was a healthy, young stallion, and all stallions had buttons which could be pressed. With everything as it should be, feeling more than confident that she would at least get laid, she adjusted the jewelry about her person and strutted back into the room.

Hearing the restroom door click, Mkuu lazily turned his head towards the bathroom and froze. Practically bleeding self-assurance, sashaying into view like a model, the mare was a sight to behold. He’d figured she’d look good in the attire, but he hadn’t realized just how stunning she’d be. Briefly at a loss, staring wide-eyed at her, he swallowed and composed himself.

Leech’s conviction wavered, spotting the towering pillar of zebra flesh. Gazing longingly at his stallionhood, keenly aware of the nectar creeping down her inner thigh, she willed herself to stay cool. Though she was damn tempted to sprint across the room and bury her face in his package, that would have to wait - for the time being, she’d just put the ball back in his court.

“Do you like it?” she demurely asked.

Slowly turning in place, giving him a perfect view of her sides and back, she felt her cheeks darken. It was rare for her to get flustered over potentially bedding someone, but her host had somehow done the trick. Sauntering towards the bed, seeing him swing his legs over the edge of the mattress, something curious caught her eye. Resting just beside him was a small crock and brush.

She’d heard tales that some zebra stallions took some perverse pleasure from painting their mates, though she’d never been lucky enough to experience it herself. Salivating from both ends, with her heart skipping a beat, she knew just what to do. Boldly striding to meet him, she sank to one knee and lowered her head. If he wanted to enact the sinful ritual on her, she’d be sure to play her part.

“My lord,” she breathed, prostrating herself before him, “forgive this concubine’s impudence, but do you intend to claim me?”

The question caught Mkuu off guard, giving him a moment for pause. He’d expected her to be shocked by his endowment, yet the sight had seemingly stoked the fires of reverence in her. Stooping low, drawing his fingers under her chin, he locked eyes with her. Had she been any other simple pony, he would have thought the presentation laughable, but her humility and respect practically demanded he take her seriously.

“Stand,” he commanded. She obeyed without hesitation, getting to her feet and holding her hands before herself. “Might I presume you know what this entails?” he inquired, reaching over and tapping the urn.

“I do, my lord,” she murmured.

Averting her gaze, she waited. If what she’d read was correct, it wasn’t proper for traditional concubines to act of their own accord, or speak without having been spoken to, putting him in control of the situation. Ordinarily speaking, had he been any other stallion, she would have gleefully pushed him onto the bed and had her way with him, but that wasn’t the case; if she was going to truly adopt the role of a Zebrican mistress, she’d have to exercise self-restraint.

“If I do this,” Mkuu began, dunking the brush in the thick, milky ink, “you realize the paint will mark you for nearly a week and, as such, indicate your fealty to me…”

“Lord,” she sighed, bowing, “any simple pony maiden would be privileged to be claimed by such a fine stallion as yourself.”

Her actions, as well as her words, were carefully chosen, something she rarely did, and it caused her pulse to quicken. She’d done roleplay before, getting dressed up to perform various lewd roles before, but this was different. Once he’d painted her, if he chose to do so, anyone with the slightest inkling of the perverse would know just how kinky she was - a fact which made the situation all the more appealing. Biting her lip, she made an impulsive move.

“So long as you bring me out, displaying your prize for all to see, I will promise myself to you,” she continued.

Though the request was a bit impetuous, Mkuu couldn’t help but chuckle. “As you wish, slave, but know that your insolence has been noted. Now, extend your arms and close your eyes.”

Leech nodded, unquestioningly doing as she’d been told. Though she was unable to see what her host was doing, she felt the soft brush gliding over her left forearm. Slowly moving up and around her limb, making his way to her chest, he anointed her bust and back. It was a deliciously sensual experience, even if it wasn’t overtly obscene. As he reached her hips, she broadened her stance and spread her legs.

As much as she would have liked to take a peek at herself, she kept her eyes glued firmly shut. Being striped was more thrilling than she’d given it credit for, causing the ache in her loins to grow steadily worse. As he painted around her calves, likely squatted down before her, she suppressed a shudder. There was no way he couldn’t see just how aroused she was, but that was fine - if nothing else, it was a testament to how excited she was.

Eyeing her crotch, drawing his tongue over his lips, Mkuu drew in her scent. Though some part of him was inclined to lean in and slip his muzzle behind the thin cloth over her nethers, he focused on the job at hand. There’d be time later for him to taste her, if she was as devoted as she seemed, but that could wait. Nearly finishing up, with only her face and abdomen left unmarked, he straightened up.

“This way,” he breathed, taking her shoulders and guiding her before the vanity. Revealing his work to a subject was always particularly entertaining, yet not as entertaining as what was to follow. Moving her before the mirror, ensuring she’d have a good view of her reflection, he released her. “Open your eyes…”

Peering out, Leech’s jaw practically hit the floor. Contrasted against her nearly black fur, the white paint was absolutely stunning. Simple banded designs covered her limbs, but that was only the start; a whirl circled one nipple, while a star covered the other, although her lower belly and face were left untouched. All in all, the patterns accentuated her figure and perfectly complemented her ornate outfit.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Mkuu asked, gently rubbing her upper back.

“Y...yeah,” she stammered. “I mean, yes, my lord.”

“Before you ask about your face and abdomen, those must be earned,” he explained, turning away and trotting to the bed. Crawling to the dead center of the mattress, rolling to his back, he rested his hands behind his head.

“How may this humble slave earn those marks, my lord?” she inquired, silently hoping things were about to move on.

“Come,” he mused, flexing his stallionhood, “show me your dedication.”

Her enthusiasm and subservient behavior were impressive, but that would mean nothing if she wasn’t skilled. While it was true that he could and had trained mares how to properly treat a stallion, the process was exhaustive and, frankly, not as enjoyable as many may think. She’d talked the talk, now he’d be able to see if she could walk the walk.

Swallowing hard, fighting the compulsion to throw herself upon him, she calmly strolled to the foot of the bed and crept onto the mattress on all fours. His legs parted for her, allowing her open access to his equipment. Taking her time, steadily closing on his package, the first delicate hints of his musk wafted to her nostrils.

Bringing her muzzle to his ripe, lightly furred balls, she trembled. Not only was his endowment extraordinarily, but he smelled heavenly. Similar to a pony stallion, yet distinctly exotic, his scent drew her in. Propping herself on one elbow, she reached up and gently wrapped her fingers around her shaft - at least, she tried to wrap her fingers around his shaft.

Towering above her, like some primitive totem, his cock was magnificent. Long, thick, and with a large vein winding along one side, his length was covered in velvety, coal-black flesh. Pressing her nose to the ambrosial nexus of his bouquet, she drew her tongue over his pair of fist-sized nuts. While she couldn’t fathom exactly how productive he was, she sure as hell planned to find out.

Lovingly fondling his balls with one hand, while lightly stroking him off with the other, she licked and lavished his equipment like the slut she was. There was no need for dirty talk, letting her actions speak more than words could. She was his property, for the time being, and she was determined to gain his favor, regardless of what it took.

Humming contentedly, pleased with the mare’s ministrations, Mkuu enjoyed the show. Despite having only met her less than an hour ago, he had to admit, he was impressed. Her oral skills were a delight, as were the fleeting glimpses she gave him, and she’d only just begun. Lapping at the underside of his shaft, gradually working her way to the blunted tip, she wrapped her lips around him.

As she slowly drew him into her snout, she peered out at him. Maintaining eye contact, bobbing her head, the slightest smile graced her. She knew exactly what she was doing, he had no doubt of that, and that is what he found especially intriguing; since she was so talented with her mouth, he’d be interested to see how well her expertise lent itself to other areas.

Languidly descending down his length, artfully massaging him with her tongue, the head of his cock eventually bumped against the back of her throat. It was a sight he’d become far too accustomed to, seeing nearly half of his shaft left unserviced, but he was in for yet another small surprise. Filling her lungs, while she grasped the trunk-like base of his stallionhood, she continued undeterred.

There weren’t many who could fully fellate him, yet his member steadily disappeared into her cavernous maw. Though he didn’t have the clearest view, he could just make out the imprint of his cock slipping down her throat. He figured he’d have fun with her, getting an easy lay at the very least, but he’d clearly underestimated her carnal prowess. Moving his arms, leaving his head propped on the pillows beneath the headboard, he rested his hands on the base of her skull.

Feeling his hands rest against her head, Leech considered his touch high praise. She’d encountered stallions who preferred to let their mare do all the work, but she’d obviously done something right with this one. His grip on her mane tightened, softly guiding her movements and ensuring she was thoroughly choked on his shaft, but she considered that a good sign. Having him take the initiative meant that he wanted it, and knowing that he wanted it meant the hooks were in.

She’d sucked more cock than she cared to count, of a staggering variety of sizes and shapes, so she knew her limits - limits which her host was pushing. As long as she remained calm, a fact which was easier said than done, she’d have roughly two minutes before she needed to breathe, but that wasn’t the biggest issue. Barring a scant few exceptions, the zebra’s stallionhood was one of the longest cock’s she’d ever had her esophagus swabbed by.

Propped on one arm, using her free hand to massage and lightly squeeze his nuts, she did what she could to stay relaxed. Every time she thought she’d be able to get a breath, she was gently forced back down his length. Deeper and deeper still she went, enduring all the while, until her nose bumped against the tuft of fur at his groin; somehow, despite all odds, she’d managed to lodge the entirety of his substantial dick down her gullet.

“Outstanding,” he muttered, relinquishing her and allowing her to move freely.

Much to his amazement, instead of withdrawing and gasping for air, she furiously throated him a handful of times before clearing her muzzle. Her absolute audacity left him stunned, genuinely unsure if he should be offended or proud of her temerity; in the end, he settled upon being both. Watching her lick a cocktail of saliva and pre-cum from her lips, he flashed her a wolfish grin.

“I hope you’re prepared to pay for your impertinence,” he snickered.

“Only if it’s a promise, my lord,” she smoothly countered, pushing herself up to her knees. Kneading her marehood, coating her fingers with her arousal, she smirked. “May this lowly slave mount you, my lord?”

“Mmmmm,” he impassively hummed. While he wasn’t opposed to despoiling her, her question gave him an opening he wasn’t about to pass up.

Shuffling forward, Leech swung one leg over the stud’s waist. Whereas a novice would have been nervous, she felt ecstatic. Something about testing herself always got her wound up, and she knew she’d be getting a good stretch from him. The masochistic part of her pined to feel him battering her hapless womb, to have her insides rearranged by his majestic stallionhood, and that notion was enough inspiration to spur her onward.

Settling onto his lap, sandwiching his dick between her slavering cunt and his abs, she rocked her hips forward and back. She’d impale herself soon enough, but she saw no harm in teasing him just a bit. Leaning forward, she kissed her way from his powerfully built chest, up his neck, and to his chin. She was glad that he wasn’t in a hurry, because she wanted to relish every sensual second with the big, handsome bastard.

“My, aren’t you an affectionate one,” he whispered, shifting his head to face her.

“I can’t help it, my lord,” she bashfully giggled, walking her fingers up his side. “If anything, it’s your fault. You’re simply too perfect to resist.”

“Oh?” he quipped, lifting her chin. “Please, indulge me.”

As shameful as it was to admit, he’d always had a soft spot for flattery. Besides compliments stroking his ego, an ego he’d earned from years of toil, training, and fitness, hearing such praise from a pony was positively intoxicating. Meeting a mare who knew her place, who fully realized she was in the presence of someone superior, fanned the domineering flames of his desires. Flexing his groin, causing his cock to spring free and rest between her supple buns, he brought his lips to within a hair’s breadth from hers.

“Your beauty is beyond reproach, your form is the divine given flesh, and your voice…” she trailed off, quivering against him, “is like that of an angel. For a mere pony mare know such moments of intimacy is like having a taste of heaven itself.”

The grace of her humble words set his heart pounding, but she wasn’t done yet - not by a long shot. Before he could even formulate a response, she ensnared him in a deep, passionate kiss. Not to be outdone, pushing back against her, he jammed his tongue into her mouth. He hated to say it, but he was quickly growing fond of the mysterious, impish mare.

Most ponies he’d met were curt with him, with a few even being anxious in his presence, but not her - not this particularly daring damsel. Reaching down, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, he repositioned her ever so slightly. While he’d initially hoped to sate himself with her, a new compulsion gradually blossomed. He no longer wanted to claim her - he needed to claim her, and that meant putting her in her place.

Breaking their kiss, glowering dead at her, he slapped her rump. “Did I say you could mount me?”

“I - uh -” she faltered, taken aback. “I believe so, my -”

“A simple hum wasn’t a yes,” he smugly cut her off. “If you’d be so kind as to get off of me, I believe a bit of punishment is in order.” As the mare dismounted him, reluctantly moving off of him, he rolled to his stomach and pushed himself onto his knees. “On all fours, slave, and face away from me.”

Crawling to the middle of the mattress, on her hands and knees, Leech presented for him. She wasn’t sure what sort of punishment he had in mind, but hearing the word was thrilling. With her tail flagged and swung to the side, giving him a picturesque view of her behind, she kept her head lowered and awaited his next command.

“Hands,” he grumbled.

Lowering her chest to the soft blanket, she extended her arms behind herself. She dare not look back at him, lest she evoke his ire, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed her wrists and pulled. Suspended by her arms, leaving her breasts to sway in the open air, he held her torso aloft. Being held in such a way wasn’t what she would describe as pleasant, but the sensation of what could only be his stallionhood prodding her entrance erased any discomfort.

“Sing for me,” Mkuu huffed, taunting her marehood.

As Leech opened her mouth to reply, he steadily sank his length into her. A guttural, shameless groan escaped her, while her depths embraced him. The stud’s glacial pace was as much of a blessing as it was a curse, straining her interior; it wasn’t until he was pressing against her cervix did he grind to a halt. She arched her back, pawing at his arms, but she was completely helpless - well, almost helpless.

“My lord, please!” she mewled, clenching around him. “Ruin me for any pathetic pony stallions.”

“And I shall,” he grunted, rocking his hips back, “just like this.”

Using her arms as leverage, simultaneously pulling her back and driving his hips forward, he started thrusting. As much as he would have liked to take his time with her, she’d forced his hand - at least, for the time being. The whorish, depraved noises she made were the sweetest of symphonies, though not as sweet as her depths.

Hot, accommodating, and astonishingly snug, her sex was as wondrous as the rest of her. Even though she’d been immobilized, unable to free herself from him, she sought to please him. Her marehood tightly squeezed on his backstrokes, as if fighting his escape, while she relaxed with each thrust. Looking down at her, he gradually picked up speed.

His hips slammed against her ass, and his balls slapped her clit, while he wrenched her arms upwards, yet she seemed to be loving every minute of the harsh treatment. Even after considerably more warm-up, most mares would have been begging him for forgiveness or to slow down, but this mare wasn’t any other mare. Peering down his chest, watching his length piston into her clinging snatch, he smiled.

She felt amazing, like molten silk, garnering her yet more points in his favor. The sights and sounds of her were just what he’d been hoping for, but it was her subservience which he truly enjoyed. The pony played her role perfectly, save for the small outburst or breach of etiquette, and he could honestly see himself growing fond of her, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

Adjusting his movements ever so slightly, guided by experience and feel, he situated his medial ring over her g-spot. The octave of her whimpers and sighs increased, bringing a smile to his lips, as he pushed her to the brink. It wasn’t a matter of if he could make her cum, it was a matter of when and how many times he’d make her cum...

After what had felt like hours of foreplay and teasing, including being striped and flirting with the emissary, Leech realized she wouldn’t be able to last long. Biting her lip, using the pain to fend off her climax, her pitiful attempt was too little too late. Throwing her head back, screaming to the heavens, she met her climactic end.

Orgasmic juices gushed from her stuffed confines, painting the zebra’s thighs, but he didn’t slow in the slightest - if anything, her release caused him to rut her harder and faster than before. It was all she could do to howl out and quake in his grasp, utterly at his mercy, while he dominated her. The onrush of hormones clouded her mind, causing her to struggle against her mate, a fact which seemed to amuse him. He quietly laughed, while she weakly twisted and tugged her arms.

“Trying to get away already?” he snorted, disappointed with her efforts. “I’d had higher hopes for-”

“I beg you,” she shouted, twisting her head to peek back at him, “let me serve you!”

Mkuu slowed, if only just, staring at her face. “And how would you do that?” he asked.

“My lord, if you allow me, I’d much rather show you,” she panted, regaining a touch of her composure.

Her request was twofold, if not slightly risky. While it was discourteous for a concubine to act on her own or to interrupt her master, sex was one area she excelled in - as such, she was certain they’d both enjoy themselves much, much more in a less demanding position. Holding her breath, trying and failing to read his face, she ceased struggling.

Releasing her wrists, she rolled to the side and patted the mattress. “If you would, my lord, make yourself comfortable.”

“And if I refuse?” he countered, raising a brow.

“If you refuse, you won’t get to see what joys this slave has to offer,” she purred, tugging at her nipples.

Turning his head, hiding a smirk, he laid back on the mattress. He had been planning on having her ride him, but the doggy had been an adequate opening act. Reminding her of who was in charge was important, and she’d do well to take the lesson to heart. Reassuming the position he’d started in, with his head on the pillows, he watched her straddle him.

As the mare lifted his legs, leaving his knees bent, he softly tsked to himself. “Yet another transgression.”

Grabbing his cock and guiding it to her snatch, she sighed. “My lord would do well to trust his slave…”

With the tip of his length kissing her entrance, she reached behind herself, rested her hands on his knees, and leaned back. Any amateur could ride a stallion, but only a professional knew how to make a real show of it. Lowering her waist, steadily impaling herself, she loudly moaned. He may have bedded a few pony mares before her, but she was determined to make a lasting impression.

The sight of watching his length disappear into her was incredible, but that was only one facet of the experience. Though it was subtle, he could make out the imprint of his stallionhood within her lower belly. Larger ponies had tried and failed to hilt him, yet this mare had done so with ease. Smiling up at her face, while she triumphantly wiggled her hips, he shook his head.

“You may begin,” he murmured.

“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered.

Raising her hips, freeing the base of his cock, she began riding him like a seasoned veteran. Moving at a snail’s pace, being sure to throw in the periodic gyration, there was a distinctively theatrical element to her movements. Anyone was capable of giving a quickie, but the best ones left a lasting impression with a lay. Gazing down at him, freeing one hand, she reached for him.

The moment his fingers graced her palm, she guided his hand to her waist. “Here,” she cooed.

Feeling his natural urges chipping away at his composure, Mkuu swallowed hard. Bucking up to meet her descents, causing her breasts to sway with each collision, he squeezed her hip. She really was an alluring creature, haughty and extraordinarily sensual, and he considered himself fortunate for stumbling upon her. As their movements became synchronized, the pair ratcheted up the intensity.

His heavy breaths became grunts and snorts, her whimpers of delight grew in ferocity. Stripped of their higher function, reduced to two animals, the pair went at it like a pair of beasts. There was no talking or begging, not a single order or command - no, merely the cries and groans of wild, passionate lovemaking.

Seconds passed into minutes, and longer still, as they lost themselves. Each of the mare’s climaxes was just as intense as the last, causing her to slow and momentarily convulse, but she was inexplicably able to recover each and every time. Though the stallion’s endurance was beyond impressive, he quickly discovered that he was fighting a war of attrition.

Setting his jaw, struggling against the blossoming pleasure, he fought his impending orgasm with everything he had - still, he knew it was in vain. Peeing up at her, seeing her wild, enchanting eyes up on him, he slipped closer to the edge. Sitting upright, while she continued fucking herself on him, he launched his final assault.

His hips became a blur, pounding her from below with unbelievable force, as he pulled out all the stops. Since she seemed so keen on experiencing everything he had to offer, he’d be more than happy to unleash his full sexual might against her. Her attempts to keep up were admirable, even if she inevitably failed, yet he’d hoped she would. It was only when he eventually crushed her resistance, sinking into her womb, did he let himself reach the breaking point.

Wrapping his arms around her torso, pulling her down, he hilted. Had she been anyone else, he wouldn’t have concerned himself with something so foolish, but something compelled him to act slightly out of character. Grasping the back of her head, while the first shots of his rich, thick foal-batter surged through his throbbing shaft, he deeply kissed her.

As they locked lips, pints of his virile essence poured into her womb. The sheer volume of his spunk gave the mare her biggest orgasm yet, causing her to nearly scream in ecstasy into his mouth, but his tongue silenced her. Oddly enough, though it was a bit abnormal, he was actually happy that she’d cum alongside him; it was the perfect way to end their first bout of sensual bliss.

Hotly making out, literally and figuratively riding out their rapture, they pawed at one another - that was, until Leech slipped her hands to the stallion’s chest and pushed him back. She wasn’t nearly finished with him, not by a long shot, and she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she’d drained every drop out of his swollen nuts. Shifting in place, fully intent to switch into a reverse cowgirl, he caught her wrist.

“Wait,” he growled.

Turning his head, spotting the paint sitting on the nightstand, he extended his arm and grabbed the urn. He wasn’t about to stop her, if she wanted another round, but there was something he had to do first. Dipping his hand into the jar, covering his hand in the white ink, he pressed his palm to her lightly swollen abdomen. He couldn’t say what her intention was, but he had no intention of stopping until she was well and thoroughly knocked-up.

“Guess that settles it,” she snickered, peering at the hand-print. Leaning forward, inadvertently making a mirrored marking on his abs, she kissed his nose. “Hope you don’t mind having a slave for the next week.”

“With talk like that, I may just make it permanent,” he chortled, groping her tush.

Circling his arms around his back, she kicked off and rolled him on top of herself. If she got in trouble for the spontaneous change of position, she could deal with it later - for the time being, she wanted to hand him the reins. Locking her ankles over his hips, giving him a light tug, she beamed. Getting somewhere to crash for a week was a pleasant turn of events, but finding an adonic new master was the real prize.

If he’d been right about the paint, she’d be going out and about with his markings for the duration of her trip. All the ponies throughout Canterlot would know she belonged to a zebra, that she was little more than a harlot for a striped stud, although that suited her just fine. The other mares in town could act disgusted, because she knew they’d be jealous of the stud she’d bagged.

As he lightly started humping her, letting himself recover to a degree, she cupped his chin. “Can I ask something?”

He nodded. “You may.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a collar, would you?” she tittered, pulling him deeper.

Slipping his muzzle to the side of her head, he gently bit her ear. “I do, as a matter of fact, but you’ll have to wear it out while leashed to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way…”