Saddled

A warm bath was the last thing Mac would've expected he'd want after a day of heat and pressure, but he suppose it made sense. Even in this part of the world, where the temperatures rose higher on a daily basis than he felt during the summer back home, ponies - or horses, he figured - would want to bathe and relax after a tiring day, and what better than a warm bath? Even if the days were hot, the nights were cool, and the construction of the building kept the air regulated nicely. As for the bath itself, well, that was a whole different matter.

He'd have called it a pool, but it had been introduced to him as a bath, and so he'd accepted it. It was large, easily big enough to fit five ponies, and was constructed out of a smooth white stone that made resting on the seat easy and enjoyable. The whole room was dedicated to the bath, with soft, fluffy towels resting atop stone benches and an assortment of soaps and shampoos adorning the wodden shelves along the walls. He didn't ask how it was heated, but the room was silent, save for the quiet lap of the water whenever he moved, and the echo of his own breathing. How much must this have cost? He didn't dare think about it, and even being here without the comforting distraction of a feast made him aware of just how out of place he was among these wealthy merchants. Still, that was the whole point; he was here to see if he couldn't bring some of that money home to his own family, and give them a taste of even a fraction of this sort of luxury. He wanted them to experience it, too.

Applejack ought to have been experiencing it. He frowned in spite of himself, his mind wandering to her again. She'd been gone all day, and while he wasn't going to accuse the Saddle Arabians of doing anything, he couldn't be sure that his sister's boisterous attitude wouldn't get her into even more trouble while she was locked up, if it hadn't got her into trouble already. He shifted in the water, his mind wandering to the possibilities. How would he know? Was it possible for him to find out? Maybe he should check with Tajir....

A soft rapping at the door broke his spell and brought his attention back to the bathroom. He glanced at the door, hesitating in how he should answer. When it came again, he called out uncertainly; "Uh, occupied...but, uh, come in, if ya want to use the bath, or..." He trailed off, even more uncertain than when he'd started the sentence. He didn't have long to stew in it, though, as the door clicked open and swung slowly inwards, giving him a view of the visitor. He blinked, not sure of what he expected, but certainly not the creature who stepped into the room.

"Good evening," the zebra greeted him, smiling pleasantly as she closed the door. "Did you enjoy the feast? It was a marvellous event, and I don't mean because I was there serving. Master Hisan usually has small gatherings of his close friends and associates, much smaller than the one tonight. Tonight was something truly spectacular, and it must have cost him a great deal of money to arrange, especially on such short notice. You must have really impressed him."

"Uh...th-thanks," Mac muttered, blindsided by her appearance in the room, and her compliments. "It was real nice of him, an' ah enjoyed myself." He paused for a second, his brain catching up to his mouth, and he awkwardly stumbled over himself to correct his faux pas. "A-an real nice of you too, ma'am. Since y'all were servin' us, an' all." He smiled anxiously, his blush thankfully hidden by his coat. Her giggle was sweet, too, and he felt the heat in his face increase.

"Thank you," she cooed, her own cheeks dusting with a hint of red as she averted her eyes. "But it was my job, master, and I'm not expecting anyone to thank me for merely doing my job. It's my pleasure and my honour...but I'm so pleased you want to thank me anyway. Does that mean I did a spectacular job?"

"...y-yes, you did," he answered, unable to refuse that point. She had been attentive and eye-catching, which, according to Tajir, was at least part of the point of their presence. By that standard, he'd certainly been impressed.

"Thank you again," she bleated, fighting hard to contain her excitement. Her hooves clacked over the stone floor as she approached the shelves, reaching up to pick up some bottles. "I don't want to be presumptious, but do you mind if I bathe with you? I don't want to get in without asking, master."

Mac wasn't sure if he had an answer or not. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words, or even sound, came out, and he gawked at her. His mind was blank, the concepts of yes and no eluding his every attempt to formulate them. Every time his judgement tipped one way or the other, and he began to approach the answer, it wisped away, and the process began again. The zebra continued to watch him patiently, managing to look at him without coming off as awkward or condescending, but didn't move a muscle to hurry his decision. In the end, he forced out a polite yes, and she smiled as she pulled at the belt of her robe. Of course she'd need to undress to get in, but the realisation struck Mac anew, and he averted his gaze out of instinct, but found himself unable to keep his head turned, or his eyes off her.

"I should introduce myself," the zebra continued, hanging the discarded robe on a hook on the wall. She was facing away from the pool, and the stallion's eyes raked up her toned back without any concious input from him. She was lithe and lean, and striped in a mesmerising black and white beauty, his vision following the patterns as they swirled around her thin body like an ornate layer of clothing. "My name is Zemballa."

"Ah'm McIntosh Apple," the pony responded, his throat a tad drier than usual as he spoke. "Most ponies call me Big McIntosh, or Big Mac if y'ain't feelin' wordy."

"And what should I call you?" she asked in return, turning to face him and stepping towards the room-spanning basin. Her hooves clacked as she stepped steadily towards him, gracefully closing the distance and carefully stepping into the water, easing herself in with slow, delicate motions. Placing the bottles on the side, she turned back to him again, submerged up to her torso.

"A-anythin' you want, miss," he replied, licking his lips awkwardly. He had a full view of her naked form, as immodest as anypony could hope to be, and it was clear he was far more fixated on that than she was. She didn't seem to pay any mind to his rampant, frantic visual wandering up and down her front, from her slim belly and taut legs to the bumps of her breasts, her bosom fairly unremarkable save for the twin nubs that capped each. Her nipples had stood even through the material of her work clothes - if they could be called clothes - and now that she was naked, they were magnetising; jet black and as thick as her pinkie finger, the two peaks bore small golden hoops which stood out against the darkness of her areola. She hadn't taken off her bridle, he noticed, the leather straps remaining stretched across her face in a strangely neat way.

"Anything?" she queried, dipping her shoulders beneath the water and reaching for one of the bottles, which appeared to be a fragrant body wash of some sort. "Does that mean I can call you Macky, or other words beginning with 'M'?" When he hesitated, she giggled softly, raising a hand to her muzzle. "Sorry, I'm just playing. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Mac answered, the girl's mannerisms intriguing him. She squirted some of the body wash into her palm and began applying it to her shoulders and neck, rubbing the fluid into a lather and massaging it into her coat.

"Would you mind doing my back, master McIntosh?" she requested, extending the bottle to him. "I find it hard to reach, and since there are two of us, I was hoping you could help me."

"Uh, sure," the stallion agreed, his throat tightening at her words. Steeling himself, he stood up, crouching a little to keep his lower half underwater, the remnants of his inhibitions manifesting more strongly now he had to actually move. She didn't comment on what he was doing, passing the bottle to him wordlessly, her fingers brushing against his as he took it in his broad hands. He almost encapsulated the whole thing, a sight that didn't seem to go unnoticed by the zebra, whose gaze lingered for a moment before she turned around and continued rubbing circles across her trim body, sudding her front in deft, pacticed swipes and scrubs.

The stallion began with her shoulders, starting as safe as he could, and though he knew what he was doing, he still felt clumsy by comparison to her own smooth, easy movements. He didn't want to press down too hard, worrying about hurting her inadvertently. She was much smaller than him, over a foot shorter, and he felt the difference in their statures as he glided his palm up the back of her neck, capable of grabbing her like picking up a cat by the scruff if he just closed his fingers. His thumbs moved minutely, glacially, as he massaged her back and passed over her ribcage, the softness of her fur and skin magnified by the lushness of the bodywash. He wasn't sure how far she wanted him to go, so he went only so far as he could, dipping down to wash at her hips, but refraining from passing below her tail, and cutting off before he passed around her sides. She maneuvered herself to allow him to to scrub her, seeming to coordinate their movements well enough that it looked like a single dance, leaning left and right and forward and back, raising herself up so he could reach the parts of her below the waterline. She didn't need to ask where he was going, and she didn't need to change or alter her flow. She just knew how to move to make it work.

When he was done, and had pulled away, she smiled gratefully and turned around to face him, her coat awash with swipes of froth and riddled with bubbles like studs beset in her armour of lather. She stepped onto the bath's bench and brushed her soapy hands down her waist and legs, replenishing the delicate foam that had been lost to the water.

"Thank you," she sang, smiling cutely at him. "I can do you, now. Please take a seat."

"Th-that isn't necessary, miss."

"Please, I want to," she told him. "If you're okay with it, master Mac. I won't tell you what to do, of course, but I would very much like to wash you." Her expression turned sweeter, if such a thing was possible, and he felt his heart melt at the sheer innocence of her visage. He couldn't say no to that, and so he didn't, complying with her request to take a seat on the bath's submerged ledge and nodding to her. She approached with a happy stride that spoke volumes of just how much she wanted to repay him in kind, and he tried to relax. She was being nice, and he owed her the respect to not be awkward around her.

She was soft and slippery from the soap, and when she slid down his front to straddle his lap, he tensed again, the physical contact far beyond what he'd expected. The zebra was light, even taking the buoyancy afforded by the water into account, but her warmth and silky smooth presence against his torso and waist was paralysing, as if she'd rested a mountain atop him. It wasn't uncomfortable, or even bad, all things considered, but as the mare began to rub her feather-light, tender hands over his neck, massaging his tension away with adept, agile fingers, he felt a nervousness overtake him that he hadn't felt since he'd fallen for Sugar Belle. That insecurity crept up on him, the sort teenagers knew all too well when approaching a filly or colt they liked, the screaming urge to act and the immobilising fear of doing something wrong.

As her hands made their way over his broad shoulders and down the rolling, corded musculature of his arms, her chest pressed against his, slipping and sliding over his immaculate pecs and her slim belly passing wetly across his chisled abdominals. Her nipples were diamond hard against his skin, their firm drag accompanied by the metal of her rings, and of the two, the rings seemed softer and less significant. He wondered if she could feel the hammering of his heart, the resonant thuds striking hard enough that it ought to be rattling his ribcage, the slams rapid and powerful as the mare continued to assail him. Her hands slipped around his ribs to wash his back, caressing the tight muscle there and stroking down his spine.

Despite Mac's character and upbringing, there was no resisting nature. He tried, forcing back his thoughts and feelings even as the striped beauty continued to feel his natural strength and roam over his lap and upper body, moving with a fluidity that he'd never witnessed from any mare before. It seemed effortless for her, and she showed no indication that this was anything out of the orindary for her, either. For all his physical strength, there was no pushing back against the inexorable urges of his own body, no matter how much he strained and fought, no matter how much he forced himself to stay still and not grab the gorgeous zebra and pull her close. He could fight his instincts, but his body didn't need his permission, and pulse by pulse, throb by throb, a hardness formed between his legs, coalescing and stirring within his sheath. Before long, the amalgamated excitement couldn't be contained within the fuzzy pocket, and inched forward with every clang of his heart.

He tried to be mortified, to flush red like a fiery beacon from the embarassment, but his urges wouldn't let him. Instead, he remained still, his concern at his expanding anatomy diminished to a background awkwardness while his sword emerged from its scabbard, growing harder and longer with a steady swiftness. It brushed against Zemballa's buttocks, bumping against her rump on its way further up her back. It was unmistakable and undeniable, but the zebra remained professional as she cleaned the stallion, mostly ignoring the mass that demanded attention, still rising and still stiffening into a thicker, longer staff. The only indication she gave tha she knew what was happening was her soft coo, her smile widening as she traced her fingers tenderly along his jaw and down to his chin. Biting her lip, she continued with her task, undeterred by the obvious. By the time it reached its full tumescence, the crown breaching the surface of the water, Zemballa was done, and she leaned back to look the pony in the eye.

"All clean," she told him, her voice softer, but no less enthusiastic. She wiggled just a little, jostling his excited anatomy, and holding a couple of fingers over her lips, clearly enjoying what she felt. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Is there anything else you want?" She let her fingers walk up his chest, grazing his neck and tracing along his jawline. "Anything I can do for you at all, master Mac? Anything?" She was close to him, their muzzles inches apart, though she didn't take any steps to move closer. She was waiting. Waiting for him.

He acted.

With a sudden burst of vigour, Mac closed the gap and smooshed their lips together, throwing off his doubts, concerns, and inhibitions entirely. Her response was immediate, her slender arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold the pair of them together, and she sank into the kiss, closing her eyes and moaning softly against his muzzle. Their lips danced, the big red stallion caressing hers with confident sweeps and brushes, setting a pace and leaving her to mirror and copy, which she did. She followed him everywhere he went, letting him guide her as they embraced and exchanged passion, unfettered by anxiety or bravado. His strength was met with her meekness, a perfect response that made the whole dance fluid and seamless, and when his tongue pressed against her lips, she parted to let him inside, greeting his encroaching muscle with the tender touch of her own. He explored her, running his tongue over hers and savouring the feel and the tateless flavour of her, the softness and the heat and the wetness and the simple, amazing feeling of her in the most basic, vulnerable, and powerful act.

They were both panting when they broke apart, neither of them looking collected or presentable. They locked eyes, gazing at one another with a swirling balance of hunger and affection. Zemballa was the first to move, standing up and swinging her leg off him, her vision focused on him the entire while.

"Could you sit up there please, master," she asked him, her voice laced with an unmistakble huskiness, even as she tried to remain polite and proper. "It'll be easier."

What she meant by that never crossed the stallion's mind. He simply pushed himself up out of the water, shunted back, and rested on the rim of the pool, the swift lift and park conducted without any real thought put into it. He didn't consider her intention, or stop to think about how exposed he was, his pride jutting upwards like a monument to his masculinity. Zemballa finally broke eye contact to stare in awe at his stallionhood, nearly gawking as finally saw what he had to offer. When she remained fixated on his throbbing turgidity, his lustful confidence fell away slightly, and he cleared his throat.

"Is everythin' okay?" he asked, unsure if he felt turned on or apprehensive about her reaction. She swallowed, nodding her head for a few seconds before turning to him.

"Of course, master," she answered. "You're just so big, definitely the biggest I've ever personally handled, and...and that's good. I'm just preparing, is all."

"Nervous?" he asked, his pride stroked by her words. His member pulsed in response, and from the flicker of her eyes, he knew she'd seen it.

"No..."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Ah understand if you are, and there's nothin' wrong with it, besides. If you think ah'm big, then you can tell me that you're worryin' about it."

"I'm not worried, master," she told him. "But...I am a little anxious, I suppose. You're huge, probably the largest stallion in the kingdom, and...I want to do a good job."

"You will," he promised. "Take it at your own pace. It's been a while for me, so ah probably need to take it slow too."

She seemed to be comforted by his affirmations, and Mac's own confidence had shot through the roof at her mild trepidation. He leaned back on his hands and spread his legs so she had room to work, and sure enough, she closed the distance to properly admire his package. Dainty, slender fingers wrapped around his pole, failing to fully close around the girth of the meaty shaft, her grip tightening as she tried to connect her fingers, but unable to compress his dickflesh even a tiny amount to shorten the distance. Her breath brushed against his surface, the heated breeze comparatively cool compared to his engorged pride, and as she pressed her lips to the underside, offering it the smallest, most reserved kiss, he couldn't hold back a low exhalation, releasing as he sighed that he'd been holding his breath.

"Look how big it is," she exclaimed, laying the length across her face, half of her obscured as she gazed up at him with excited eyes. As she beamed up at him, her mouth open in a delighted gasp, he caught sight of a golden piercing in her tongue, something he hadn't noticed before. It contrasted against the pink of her tongue, and it looked good on her; it didn't take away from her coyness, or her sweetness, but gave her a "You're worth two or three stallions. Does this count as a threesome, then?" She giggled at her own comment, quickly breaking off into a series of sniffs and inhales. "Wow, you smell so good, and you're just..." She trailed off, unable to find the words to express her approval of his equipment, and instead began to smooch and flick the tip of her tongue over the section of his cock nearest to her muzzle, touching at him lightly and dreamily.

It didn't take her long to progress from basking in his presence to trying to experience more of it, the girl widening the sweeps of her tongue to reach more of him, starting in circles and swirls before she ran out of untouched meat, and had to crane her neck and turn her head to brush over the rest of him. Her movements were slow and steady, her oral caresses tender and focused, and she kept her actions varied, moving her tongue in an array of patterns at her own discretion. She tried flicking her tongue up and down, playing the tip over his veiny shaft, then let her tongue hang out before dipping down to his sheath and dragging the flat surface all the way up his underside, from his base to the rim of his glans. Her efforts were exploratory and slow, but every movement was puissant, her touch like an aimless, meandering path of static across his neglected member, and she was rewarded with a steady dribble of precum from his dilated cockhole.

The zebra held Mac's focus as she tended to his column, even as he alternated between gazing down at her and letting his head roll back as a particular strong pang overcame him. Even after she'd ran her tongue along all of his shaft, from the broad strokes with the flat of her tongue to the careful swipe around his medial ring and gentle probes into his sheath, when the sensations were freshest and strongest, she seemed to find a way to keep his recently rediscovered excitement up and rising. She knew exactly when to remain in one spot, devoting her ministrations to a single section of his wang, and when to move on to taste and tease more of him. She knew when to curl her tongue around his curve and when to lay her muscle flat and draw it up his rigidity. She knew when to dig her tongue into his sheath to indulge in his concentrated flavour and when to drink up the pool of watery pre atop his crown. Perhaps most importantly, she knew when to stop lapping at his prick like an ice lolly and when to suck it down fully.

Her lower lip hooked under his corona while her upper lip grazed over his plateau, sweeping along his remaining pre as she did so, until she'd englufed the blunted end of his pride, eyes gleaming with joy as she encompassed his girth. Slowly, she sank down, giving her jaw time to adjust to the sheer size she had to accommodate, lowering half an inch at a time before pulling back to the very tip. She bobbed delicately, deepening her dive with every downard motion until she'd taken the first few inches, then six, then eight, then ten. She reached his medial ring, his flare bumping the back of her throat, and she relaxed, meeting his flat until she managed to slip it into her gullet at last and begin sliding it down her esophagus. Inch by inch, she conquered his stallionhood, her soft lips sealed softly and flawless around his circumference, making the whole thing seem effortless. Even as the stallion felt her trying to work him into her, the subtle shifts and changes of rhythm or direction letting him know she'd had to adjust, he saw how smooth and skilled her performance was, and would've truly believed she was a professional with decades of experience under her belt.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The resounding thumps shattered the steamy peace of the room, and Mac jerked instinctively, driving his dong deeper into Zemballa's maw, causing her to gag at the unexpected intrusion. He grunted under his breath, the sound and sight of her struggling to deal with his size sending a ripple of satisfaction through him, to his confusion. Shaking off the new experience, he looked between the door and the suckling mare, his instincts sending two sets of contradictory instructions to him; hide the zebra and send away the newcomer. What if it was Tajir, though? He couldn't send away his host, and the very owner of this room! Then again, how would the horse react if he walked in and saw his honoured guest with his privates buried almost entirely within one of his servants? He groaned, struggling to think with the persistent, nonchalant gobbling. Somehow, it being smooth, gentle, and slow made the whole thing even more intense. The knocking came again.

"Uh, o-occupied!" he called out, more forcefully than he intended, and with nervousness laden in his voice. He winced, hoping that he didn't have to do more to send away the newcomer, and learned a second later that he was right; the door opened and the creature knocking simply strode in.

"Good," she said, closing the door behind herself. "I was wondering if I got the wrong room! You two are so quiet! I wouldn't have known you were doing hanky-panky in here if I didn't know anyway!" She tittered and walked over to the zebra's discarded bathrobe, barely looking at the two as she moved through the room.

"Uh...miss?" Mac questioned, his face burning red with horror at the presence of a bystander while he was blown by a stranger. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and smiled a knowing, playful smile, her vision flickering for a moment to the zebra between his legs.

"Don't be embarassed," she told him. "You need all that blood to pump up that huge, throbbing, juicy cock. What good will it do in your face, as handsome a face as it is? None." Her eyes roamed over the stallion's chest, admiring the sight of the stud being sucked by a hungry, striped slut. "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, but Zemballa can be really shy around creatures she likes, and she was absolutely over the moon when we were told that you found us attractive. I had to let her come in first so she could introduce herself and get into the swing of it. She's adorable like that, and I couldn't refuse letting her warm up in her own time. What sort of colleague would I be if I said no? A very rude one, that's what! It seems she's wasted no time in getting over her nerves..."

The pony gawked at the girl, hearing her words, but barely registering them. This was, unmistakably, the griffon he'd spied at dinner, the one he'd pointed out to Tajir. She was still strikingly similar to Gabby, with the same coat colour and even similar mannerisms. It was the lack of white that mostly distinguished them, and the brilliance of this griffon's teal irises, which captivated the stallion until she removed her bathrobe, depositing it neatly atop the zebra's, at which point his gaze automatically fell to her breasts. She wore small golden hoops too, little decorations that hung from her perky pink teats. He stared, unable to remove his sight from her bosom as she strutted confidently towards the side of the pool and around it, approaching him with a sashay in her step, until she broke line of sight by moving behind him.

"You can look at me later, master," she whispered in his ear, loudly enough that all three of them could hear what she was saying. She knelt down behind him, her chest pressing against his back, and her chin resting on his shoulder. "Right now, there's a drop-dead gorgeous zebra blowing you, and she's doing a beautiful job. Why don't you focus on that? Let her know how she's doing." Her claws grazed along his ribs, palms sliding through the suddy fur and around to his chest, where she rubbed in slow, sensual circles. "I've never seen her go down on a stallion like this before; look how deep she's taking you, master. She's taking this thick slab of meat so far down her slutty little throat, and she's doing it all because she can't look at someone as handsome and strong as you and not want to choke herself on their cock. Then again, she's never met anyone as strong, handsome, and well hung as you. I haven't either." She kissed his cheek in a brief peck, the movement almost chaste but for the context of their encounter.

Mac groaned at the hen's words. It was enough having a beautiful mare delicately tend to his staff, and with the level of skill Zemballa was displaying, but it was another thing entirely to have a second beauty embrace him from behind, caress him softly, and whisper dirty truths in his ear. She spoke in a hushed voice nowhere near quiet enough to be a sincere attempt at discretion, and while her tone was smooth, silky, and sensuous, her words were filthy, sounding like lines straight out of a porno. He shivered, the tactile care above and below his waist enhanced by the sight and the knowledge of what was going on, the awareness of just how impossible this ought to be sending a pulse through his rod. His breathing hastened, his stones grew heavier, and the static in his loins built into a buzzing, thrumming charge.

His orgasm was sudden and intense, the wave crashing over him without mercy. He bellowed, uncaring in the moment how loud he was, and erupted into the diminutive mare's mouth, spraying a hot flow straight into her waiting stomach and plastering her throat in his liquid love. It must've clung to her passage with how much he gave her, his shaft swelling and throbbing aggressively, his flare keeping her esophagus open to receive his pent-up release. All the while, he shuddered in the other female's grasp, listening to her coo and celebrate his rapture, her words like fuel on a blazing inferno.

Mac's chest was heaving by the time he came down from his high, his powerful lungs attempting to rip oxygen from the air to replenish the amount he'd expended when he'd sang his pleasure to the world. Every few seconds, he grunted as an electric ripple ran through him from the zebra's ministrations, her muscles contracting around his pulsing prick as if to squeeze any spooge still left. Even when she drew back, still attempting to gulp down the flood of cream he'd deposited into her, she didn't give up, sealing her lips around his cockhole and sucking, like trying to drain the last of the milkshake from a straw. She was successful, licking her lips cleaning and beaming up at him, red-faced from the effort, but clearly elated with her performance - and his.

"Wow!" the griffon cheered. "You were amazing, Zemballa! Wasn't she, master? Just look how thorough she was!" She reached down to his cock, grasping the sensitive skin and caressing its veiny, saliva-shined surface with a thumb. "Spit-polished and buffed, and not a drop of your nut left, inside or out! I'm envious!" She giggled and let go, nuzzling his face with her own. "I really need to introduce myself, don't I? My name is Gaia, but of course you can call me anything you want. You should probably know it so you can give me orders; Get over here, Gaia! Suck my huge dick, Gaia! Bend over so I can ruin you for every other stallion, Gaia! Sure has a ring to it, doesn't it, master? If you don't mind me being narcissistic for a second, anyway. But that's enough about me - what should I call you? Other than 'master', obviously."

"Y'all can call me Mac," the stallion murmured, his brain still fuzzy from the mind-melting he'd just endured and the rambunctious griffon's licentious introduction. "Anythin' is fine - Big Mac, McIntosh, Big McIntosh..."

"So many names," Gaia clucked. "I'll have to try them all out tonight, when you're splitting me in two with this bitch-breaker you have right here. Before we get to that, I want to show you something, and I really think you'll like it. Zemballa, can you be an absolute babe and throw me the body wash?"

The zebra obliged, wading through the bath to the bottle she'd left on the side and tossing it over to the griffon, who snatched it expertly out of the air. Stepping past the stallion, she splashed into the bath and quickly dunked herself under, wetting her coat before she flicked open the lid and tipped the bottle upside down, squirting a substantial amount onto her bosom. When she was satisfied she passed it back to the striped mare, who took it meekly and replaced it on the edge of the pool, while Gaia massaged the fluid into her fur, lathering it into a suddy wash. It didn't need to take as long as it did, but her claws continued to sweep over her breasts, her claws occasionally tugging at the hoops and tweaking her perky buds, until she finally stopped with a deeply satisfied sigh.

Stepping towards the staring stallion, maintaining eye contact as she did, Gaia mantled the marble bench and knelt between Mac's legs, crawling forward until she was perched at chest level with his schlong. Wordlessly, she leaned in, ensnaring his shaft between her frothy pillows and pushing the pair together to truly trap him in a malleable, pliant prison. The griffon rose as high as she could from her position to draw his cock through her valley, and then back down to his base, massaging his member in smooth, repeated movements, all while she fixed him with a smoldering, salacious smile, her teal orbs meeting his sap green.

She was limited to what she could reach, given his prominence, but the lower half of his momument was well-polished by her persistent bathing, and being sandwiched between her doughy breasts was enough of a sensation on its own to make the half job a worthy experience. He reached forward instinctively, grasping at a nipple before he realised what he was doing, and paused, only for the griffon to nod emphatically at him from below, her beak spread in a happy grin. With her approval, he tweaked, pulling a gasp from her, and sending a trill of delight thorugh himself. With both hands, he toyed with her pert buds, twisting and tugging softly while she continued her polishing, wrapping him in soft titflesh and the silky smoothness of the bodywash, its coolness clashing wonderfully with the heat of her body.

"Could you stand up please, master?" the griffon asked. "It'll be easier to worship more of your greatness that way." She said it so casually, as if she were asking him to lift his hooves so she could vacuum clean the floor around the couch, and all while she was boob-buffing his pecker.

"You're doin' a mighty fine job right now," he told her, feeling a hot wave of breath gust past his shaft as she sighed in contentment, a small shiver running through her body. Did this one have a praise kink? "But if it's what you want, ah'll let ya have all the access to me that you need. Somep-...somegriff as talented as you deserves all the requests she makes." His hunch was confirmed when she shivered again, more noticeably this time, the movement telegraphed through the jiggle of her soft, supple assets.

"Thank you, master," she uttered, sounding equal parts smug and awed. "I always do my best." She followed the swing of his steel beam as it shifted from vertical to horizontal, swaying from the momentum carried by its own mass. "And for you, I'll do my utmost best. 200%, just for you." She once again embraced his masculinity with her suddy baps and began her routine again, this time able to glide from his base to his very tip, the change in position allowing her greater reach, just as she promised. The satisfaction was doubled just from the extra amount she had to worship, and he let out a low sigh in reaction. She said she'd give it her all, and having more to do didn't reduce her skill at all; the lower half of his cock received just as much attention as it had before, the same amount of pressure and softness surrounding his stick as she heaved and pushed in her quest to properly serve him.

Mac had forgotten about the third person in the room, the boobjob taking all his attention, until something grazed his buttocks. He jumped a little, swivelling his head to check what was going on behind, and saw the zebra on her knees, her fingers trailing over his taut, firm cheeks. The sight of her surprised him - was she really so quiet and agile, or had Gaia's sensuous play been so captivating that he hadn't noticed the striped girl exit the water, maneuver behind him, and get down to toy with his backside?

"Is this okay?" she asked, smiling shyly up at him. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, but I thought you might like it, and if it matters to you, I'd really like to try it on you. If that's okay, master." She looked vulnerable from his vantage point, and probably felt as vulnerable as he did. Did she? She seemed to throw herself intho these situations with a ferver, albeit lacking the brazen confidence of her griffon colleague, while he was still hesitant to take charge. The situation was confusing, and his body's desires snarled at him impatiently as he diverted energy to working it out.

He was thinking about it wrong, he realised. He was too busy thinking about how he felt about the situation, whether it was okay, but the females here were more than happy to do this for and to him. Zemballa was nervous, sure, but she was willing and eager. He felt nervous, but why? None of them should be feeling nervous. That was the bit that needed mending.

"Y'all can do anything ya want," he assured them both. "Worst ah can do is say no, an' the same goes for both of you. If ah'm doin' anything you don't want, tell me. That's how this is workin'. We're havin' fun, or we're not doin' it at all. Ah want to know that you're doin' it because you want - no roll in the hay is good if it's reluctant."

"Absolutely," Gaia agreed, shining his pole in long, competent undulations. "If we're not making you feel good, then we're not doing something right. And if we don't feel good, well, then we're not doing something right then either! It's hard for us to not feel good, isn't that right?"

"Completely right," the zebra agreed. "I'll show you how much I want it, master. You won't ever doubt that I'm enjoying what I'm doing to you." With her piece said, and her tone much more bouncy and confident after his assurance, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his rump, barely pushing his skin down a half-inch before she met the unyeilding muscle beneath. She didn't let that deter her - to the contrary; she sighed and breathed in happily, revelling in his firmness and effort-induced masculinity - and shifted her kiss across his chisled slab of assmeat. She was thorough, gracing his glutes with tender touches and affection from edge to edge, side to side, pressing her nose into his tail and huffing happily before moving onto the other cheek, where she was just as thorough.

She wasn't satisfied with just his impressive backside; she continued on to his crack, worming her muzzle in between his hewn plates and enduring the pressure as she tried to reach his guarded treature. Her breath was hot, billowing in urgent, needy gusts against his taint and sack, rolling out from the confined space where she'd loged herself. It took several seconds for her to pry his butt apart, giving herself easier access to her target, but depriving herself of being enclosed in his lewd, muscular embrace. She made up for it when she planted her lips against his raised ring of wrinkled muscle and kissed, smooching far too sweetly for what she was actually doing.

The first lick made the stallion shiver, the simple upwards swipe sending a tremor through his nerves from his groin to his head, and then back down again. The second and the third did the same, each swipe deliberate and slow, with the perfect amount of pressure to evoke his reaction without diving in too quickly and rushing the experience. She was measured and calculated, sporadically licking at him on the downstroke too, irregularly enough that every time she did was a welcome surprise, and made his thighs quiver imperceptibly. Each time he grew used to her technique, figuring out her pattern, she switched, adding something new - she swirled her tongue around his rotunda, she delivered a flurry of licks, she flattened her tongue and dragged it heavily over the wrinkled skin, she kissed his wettened pucker, until his knees were trembling and he longed for nothing but her continued praise.

"You make such cute sounds," Gaia commented, giggling as the pony groaned and let out a staggered breath. "Really rugged and manly sounds, but they're deliciously attractive! She must be doing a number on you. First time?" She dipped her shoulders beneath the water, washing the soap from her bust and cleaning the top half of his shaft before returning to her lengthy ministrations.

"Ah had an ex who tried this before," Mac revealed. "We tried a lot of stuff, bein' each others' first an' all, but she was never really into it. She wasn't a fan of anythin' overly physical, an' ah knew she was just doin' it for my sake. We'd stopped makin' love for months by the time we ended it."

"A hard breakup?" Gaia guessed, sympathy leaking into her voice.

"Not at all," the stallion told her. "We realised our lives weren't goin' in the same direction, she wasn't one for intimacy or kids, an' ah knew ah'd want kids, so we agreed we'd be better off as friends. We still keep in contact."

"That's nice," the griffon said, smiling up at him as she flowed back and forth along his shaft. "Maybe you should get her to come here, we fix intimacy issues really well. I'd even wager that if your ex was totally not into sex, we'd find a way to help her see how good it is. That way, she wouldn't just be doing it to make you happy, she'd be making herself happy too! As it should be!" She noticed the pony's frown, and grimaced at how he'd reacted to her remarks. "Sorry, sorry...my big mouth ran away from me. What I meant to say was that we're really happy making you happy, and you deserve to have creatures like us. I'm happy that it's me and this beautiful striped slut, because we are, if I'm allowed to be arrogant, the best two girls in this whole place. And if you somehow haven't noticed, Zemballa's got a really good mouth on her that can do things I wished I could do in a hundred thousand years. When your ex tried...this...with you, how did it go? Was it thorough, or just tepid?"

"Uh, she...well, she licked me, and...yeah, that was 'bout it."

"So no real deep, depraved, porno stuff?"

"Eenope."

The griffoness grinned and pressed her cheek against the top of his shaft as she moved, rubbing his stallionhood between her breasts and her face. Her eyes were lidded in knowing mischief, the sight sending a thrill of anxious excitement through the male. "Then you need to try this. Z, show master how a real slut treats her master."

The effect was immediate. Mac's eyes widened as the enthusiastic tongue, already flitting over and around his butthole, pressed stiffly and firmly against his ring. The zebra was insistent, wiggling it in place as she tried to gain entry, releasing and building the pressure intermittently in a dogmatic attempt to work her way inside. Push by push, press by press, she made gains, struggling for every milimeter towards her goal. His sphincter began to loosen, the pressure against it growing and growing, his ponut stretching slightly at the behest of the wet, hot organ, and he groaned at the strange feeling of being properly tongued, the sensation growing in intensity as more of her wiggled past his waning defences and into his previously untouched passage.

"How does it feel?" Gaia inquired, cooing her question at him. She didn't break eye contact, managing to sustain her lustful, seductive gaze even as she danced her body up and down his member.

"N-new," he grunted, the dexterous touch of the zebra's flexible appendage hot against his insides. It was powerful, the sections of tract she touched blooming with pleasure and vibrations, the mere contact setting off his nerves and leaving him abuzz. She didn't stop, diving deeper and deeper until she finally, eventually, ran out of muscle to pour into him. He had no sense of proportion when it came to this, but knew that - despite the yards it felt like - she could've only slipped a moderate way into him. That didn't prevent her from swirling around, reaching up and down and dragging her tongue this way and that-

He gasped and thrust forward, booping Gaia on the chin with his glans and smearing the freshly-squeezed pre over her fur. She laughed, squeezing her breasts in delight as he began to leak more readily into her pillowy embrace. Mac groaned and panted, his upper body joining in his legs in tremoring. Behind him, the zebra remained still as she worked, her actions invisible to everyone in the room, but transmitted transparently through the stallion's reaction.

"Oh, somepony's having their boy-spot played with," the griffon teased. "I'm so envious of Zemballa, stroking that sweet little area that gets the best reaction from boys of all shapes and sizes. It doesn't matter if they're cutesy-wootsy femmey boys or big tough strong alpha male studs, every guy out there melts when a lucky gal gets her finger or tongue on it. Not only do you produce so much yummy pre, but you also make the best noises, and I live for it." She let out a sigh as the cock in between her tits throbbed and spurted a helping over her throat, marking her in the best way. "Please tell me what she's doing. I want to hear how she's making you feel good, master."

"R-rubbin'," he grunted out, his voice strained. "Just rubbin back an' forth. Keepin' on the pressure."

"Mmm," the hen murmured. "Such a good zebra, milking you dry so you can make a mess on my balloons. I want a big mess, master. I want you to blow a huge load on this big juicy griffy titties, to just coat me in your baby batter, to lose control and cover me in your thick, gooey spunk. I think I've been a good girl, master, and I want you to reward me if you think I've been a good enough girl, too."

The stallion couldn't answer properly. The pressure against his bulb was intense, the expert touch of the cute, shamless mare sending rolling waves through his body and building a burning buzz within his gut. His gonads felt heavier and hotter, his shaft was boiling, and his mind was sluggish from the sheer number of sources of stimulation. Everything was demanding his attention, and he only had so much to give, which was why he didn't notice at first when Zemballa's hand snuck between his legs and grasped the bottom half of his cock. The touch was graceful, delicate, and pleasurable, but compared to the humming static building in his loins, it was negligible. Only when she brought her second hand around to make jerking him off possible, giving her enough coverage to actually work his shaft, did he realise what she was doing. She co-ordianted as best she could, keeping her tongue and hands on seperate rhythms, leaving him no second of reprieve. Gaia kept to her side of the medial ring, letting the ridge divide their responsibilities so that Mac could truly experience the best they had to offer.

One half of his junk wrapped in satin-soft tits, the other massaged by a sweet, polite, petite zebra mare. Attentive oral that he'd never have dared ask from anyone. Depraved words spoken with shameless glee, verbally pulling him into the shared perversion they were sharing, promising him pleasure beyond measure. Hands, everywhere, tongue and lips and breath and saliva and bodies, all pushed against him and in him, slurping him down and urging him towards his release. It was a lot, and he let out shuddering breath as it caught up with him. Two gorgeous females were doing unspeakable things to him, willingly and gratefully, and they'd asked him. They wanted him. This wasn't just some favour or obligation from a kindhearted asexual mare to a red-blooded stallion; it was unadulterated, unrestrained passion.

The heat built up to unbearable levels, rising far too quickly for him to register it properly. It swooped in, reaching its boiling point in seconds, and then, he erupted. Letting out a deep groan, his body shook, the orgasm ripping through him mercilessly, his nerves blazing as he writhed and shook and tried to stop himself tumbling over, colours flashing through his head and lights springing into form before extinguishing themselves in tenths of a second. He was weightless and heavy simultaneously, every part of him seeming to float even as it dragged him down, moving and remaining still. His dick throbbed, pulsing as it squeezed out a stream of ivory over the waiting griffoness, her breasts molded around the expanded flare of his heaving pipe.

His eyes rolled back, the pressure against his prostate refusing to let him stop pumping out his seed, coating the partner at his front and clamping down heavily against the tongue still grinding against his bump. Even when he finally stopped splashing ropes of jizz over the happy griffon, he still felt as though he were pushing out ropes of his cream, the sensations remaining and playing over and over like an echo. When Zemballa withdrew her tongue, he felt empty, his tract mapped through the immense heat that activating it had caused, but completely fulfilled. With a quick glance behind to make sure he was clear, he sat down heavily, his ass smacking down against the marble rim of the bath, two hard surfaces meeting in a loud crash.

"Mmm, master," Gaia purred. "How generous of you! I didn't expect so much, but I'm very happy for this gift, and I promise I won't waste a drop of it." The voice prompted Mac to raise his heavy head, bleary eyes searching out the hen. He was greeted by the sight of the beaming female slapped with messy shots of his own finish, strands clinging to her face from the splashback, and a chest that could only be described as plastered. He couldn't have done more to paint her if he'd grabbed a brush and spent hours meticulously filling in every spare space. Even her nipples were masked behind the totality of his ejaculation, protruding as perky little bumps amidst a sea of white. "Hey Z, c'mere."

The zebra crawled to the edge of the bath, watching as Gaia stepped labouriously forward, fighting against the water and cradling her breasts so as not to spill the lake of liquid clinging to her fur and skin, and pooled in her cleavage. It was a slow, determined waddle, and as soon as she was close enough, the two shared a brief moment of eye contact and a wordless conversation before the zebra leaned down and licked the isolated strands of spunk from the griffon, who purred and closed her eyes to enjoy the drag of the mare's tongue over her face. Zemballa worked methodically, travelling downward from the highest point of the griffon's messy decoration, her lapping requiring more passes as the cream became thicker where it had concentrated and amalgamated. The sheer amount that rested in between her bust required the zebra to sup the excess down, the lewd, wet slurping sending a resurgent throb through the observing stallion.

With the spilling hazard contained, Gaia grasped her cleaner's head and pulled her in close, smothering the striped mare inbetween the bountiful bosoms and shaking herself to let them slap stickily and encouragingly against the zebra's muzzle and face. Zemballa didn't need much motivation, and visibly began to feast, sticking her face further into the valley and jerking herself side-to-side, drawing a giggle from the griffon and smearing the spunk over the both of them. Still, it gradually began to clear, the efforts not just one of display; the zebra attentively licked and lapped, humming and toying with the cum-slathered breasts between her assigned task. The two of them played, stroking manes and crests, blowing raspberries against soft flesh, laughing and letting their hands roam, and showing off to their watching third partner. The sight alone was an aphrodisiac, and by the time they were done, after minutes and minutes of dedicated tongue-bathing, the stallion was fully erect once again, without even having to stroke himself hard.

Gaia licked Zemballa's face to clear it of the worst of the mess she'd made of herself, and the two giggled as they washed off more thoroughly with the bath. The zebra moved over to the sink to clear rinse out any residue of her dirty activities while the griffon scrubbed herself down, applying more bodywash and rubbing her body sensually as Mac watched on, smiling at his unabashed attention and obvious arousal.

"How did you like that?" she asked, hefting her mammaries up for him to ogle. "I think we made very good use of your generous gift."

"Eeyup," Mac agreed. "Y'all looked right at home, and ah think you looked absolutely stunnin' coated white. Prettier than you usually are, even, which is somethin' mighty hard to beat."

"Thank you!" the griffon uttered, glowing at his praise. "I can't wait to be covered and filled again! But now..." She looked over towards the zebra, who'd just finished gargling mouthwash.

Mac wordlessly agreed with the griffon, needing no further prompting to stride over to striped cutie, his hooves clacking loudly as he closed the distance swiftly and embraced the zebra, reaching down to hoist her up and hold her close. His thick arms clasped her lithe body to his chiseled torso, her softness meeting the flat of his rock-hard chest and belly. The scent of mint and ethanol filled his nose as he pressed their lips together, tasting it lingering on the coldness of her tongue as he stormed into her mouth, revisiting it energetically once again. Zemballa moaned in his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around his sides and her hands running through his mane. He didn't have to break the kiss to grab some towels from the side and throw them down onto the floor, or to kneel so he could lay down on his back. When he came to rest, he broke the kiss, pushing her head back gently.

"Do you want me on top?" the zebra asked, whispering the question breathily and receiving a nod. Obeying, she stood, having to stand fully upright to pass over his spire. Curiously, she lowered herself back down to sit on his legs and reached forward with a hand to pull his shaft towards her, pressing his length against her body. "Master...it's huge!"

"Take it slow," he told her, the sight of his presence reaching all the way up to her chest, spurring a roll of rugged excitement. It felt right, seeing his cockhead framed between her insignificant breasts, and feeling her heart beat anxiously in her chest at the knowledge that she'd be impaling herself on something that couldn't be far off half her height. "Don't rush; take it nice an' easy, an' you'll be fine."

The zebra steeled herself and nodded at his words, rising up once more and tilting his tower towards her crotch. The plateau grazed the teardrop that was her labia, his spongy glans grinding along the thick elastic lips on his first pass, and gliding along in subsequent drags as her abundant natural lubricant coated his cockhead. He was too thick to just slip in, as ready as she was, and the simple testing of the waters became an abridged form of foreplay, her slick snatch slipping over his crown at first in undulating thrusts, and then in more spontaneous and sporadic movements. She swivlled her hips, slathering her femlube over him as she circled his tip, nestling it against the entrance to her trove. She giggled demurely, bashful even as she took joy in just playing with his stiffness. Mac caraessed her calves encouragingly, smiling at her antics as she rolled her hips, their parts pressing and poking at one another unyeildingly, teasing and tempting in nudge after nudge.

They both exhaled when his flare finally pushed into her, stretching the bottleneck of her quim open with an audibly wet squish. Her passage was luxurious, rolling with warmth and welcoming his presence, and her walls were sinfully soft, running with moisture, and all-encapsulating, closing in to encompass and squeeze around him like the world's most comforting blanket. Again and again, her muscles clenched, massaging his tip in powerful, involuntary draws and pulls. Their needs seemed to be synchronised, the need for more rising in both of them until Zemballa lowered herself further, forcing a groan from the usually stoic stallion. He didn't seem to slide up her valley her so much as flow into her, his cockflesh compressed by the pressure of her demanding, clinching entrance, squeezed inward as it passed her gate and expanded again inside her, demanding room within her loving confines.

The mere penetration had been that good, Mac realised, taking a break from his own pleasure and the stunning portrait of his zebra's face to look down at her progress. She'd only taken a few inches of him so far, and it felt like she'd personally massaged every inch that she had. In spite of the slow progress, he was glad for it; he wasn't sure he could maintain any sort of composure with how good she felt. Who was more of the novice? The thought was fleeting, but it grounded him, and he continued to run his fingers up and down her lithe, toned legs, praising her progress tactilely and verbally as she huffed and whimpered, her cunny swallowing his size in brave dives, each dip adding a few more inches to her stockpile. His medial ring took a few attempts to clear, the mare letting out a cute squeak as the ridge nudged into her and rode up her canal, but she didn't stop or slow until the entirety of his stallionhood lay inside her.

"I-I did it," Zemballa breathed, excitement thick in her whispered voice. "I-I took all of you, m-master. You're completely inside me." She brushed the stiff bulge lining her torso, running her palm along the her belly to feel the protrusion. "D-do I feel good?"

"Eeyup," Mac answered, gritting his teeth. He was stuffing her, filling her like a glove, and she pressed down around his intruding length from every direction. He could feel every breath she took, every pump of her heart, every quiver and tremor, and all he could do was revel in it. "You're a real good girl."

"I am?" she asked, biting her lip. "I'm a good girl?"

"Eeyup."

She didn't answer, but shone with pride and showed her thanks by shifting slightly, rocking her waist back and forth in glacial movements, which grew more pronounced as she gauged his reaction. The rocking rose to gyrations, and those became hops, her slim body bouncing against his. Their gazes caught, remaining connected as the zebra lifted herself further, exposing his glistening cock part by part, the slapping of flesh on flesh growing louder until it eclipsed their huffs and groans. Zemballa rested her hands on the stud's abs, feeling the stern resistance against her palms, using his unyielding belly to aid her caroms, until she had to give up the angle for balance, relying on her legs to lift herself up his snatch-splitting shaft.

With an open view of the striped mare, Mac was treated to a sight that he hadn't seen in ages, and certainly never to this level of quality. The trim, slender torso of the zebra bore the outline of his pole, a rounded bulge protruding outward at her sternum whenever she sheathed him on a drop, but otherwise retained its flawless athletic aesthetic. The small golden hoops adorning her jet-black nipples bounced soundlessly in time with her fluid ups and downs, and with no obstruction blocking his vision, he spied a similar piercing decorating her thick, thumb-sized clit, the gold constrasting beautifully against the pink nub peeking from the safety of her marehood. He knew what to do as soon as he saw it, and reached down to press a thumb against the dense bundle.

Zemballa's rhythm stuttered at the contact, her legs trembling and whimpers emerging from her throat as she tried to persist in the face of his meddling. A few lazy brushes crumbled her efforts, leaving her riding him at an irregular beat in uneven strokes, and she quivered as he strummed faster and faster at her vulnerable bulb. It didn't take long for her to climax, her legs giving way and slamming her down fully on his length to send her soaring past the peak and squealing at the sharp, vivid rush. Her cunny spasmed, wildly clinging and clutching at his rod, crushing down with pleasurable, unrelenting insistence. Mac had to roll over to pull out, leaving her nearly hyperventilating as she recovered. Her marehood closed around emptiness as he exited her, constricting vainly around nothing, her pink walls closing behind the frame of her droplet-decorated pussylips.

"You stud," Gaia cooed in the stallion's ear, her voice dripping with huskiness. "You gave her the best orgasm of her life, and I am so envious." He hadn't heard her approach, too preoccupied with Zemballa to notice the quiet pat of paws closing in, but the sudden sound of her didn't frighten him. It felt right to have her nearby, no matter the circumstances. "Now you've had a good feel of zebra pussy, why don't you give griffon goods a try? Or...if you're feeling adventurous...you can try a different hole."

"A different hole?" he repeated. The suggestion made Mac pause, a slow shudder of delight running through him, moderated by the dwindling but present voice of caution. He knew what she meant, and he knew the offer intrigued him, but there was something holding him back from jumping on it.

"Yes, Mister McIntosh," the griffon confirmed, sliding around him to appear in his line of sight, never letting her body leave his. "My butt. My booty. My backdoor. My starfish. My tight little butthole." Her smile carried a mischievous smirk underneath, and her eyes were awash with a glitter of naughty delight. "It's tight right now, but after you're done, it'll be like an exhausted mine, but unlike a depleted mineshaft, you can come back and find more gold every night. It will never, ever run out, Big Mac. There will always be a reason to delve into this forbidden shaft."

"Is it...uh...are you...clean?" He winced at the question, not wanting to ruin the mood, but it was the one thing that held him back.

"Absolutely!" she answered, not missing a beat, her smile persisting. "Clean as a whistle, and lubed ready to go. It's a neat little trick of these hot pieces." She tapped her bridle with a claw, running her finger along its leathery length. "They take care of any nastiness and make sure we're always ready to serve, no matter what activities our partner might want. You never need to worry about getting infections, dealing with unexpected or unpleasant messes, or sustaining injury, unless your partner really, really wants to, I guess. It's all magic, see. They also do some other stuff, but the point is, I'm utterly clean, stretchy enough to never be too loose for your bitch-tamer, and I even produce lube like my pussy does. It's neat!" She beamed at him widely. "Here, take a look!"

Before Mac could say anything, she'd spun around and bent over, reaching back to spread her plush butt cheeks for his viewing convenience. Unlike the Zemballa, or any female he'd ever seen, the griffon's vulva lacked the familiar equine lips, her labia seemingly a pair of neat, tucked, thin strips of pink framing her damp gash, and her clit was tiny by comparison to the zebra's, though it wore a similar hoop piercing. Her groin didn't look like a teardrop, or like an exclamation mark, as he was used to, with what ought to have been a raised bump of dark muscle instead being a wrinkle between her buns, set just above her lackluster quim. It was austere, compared to the zebra and his knowledge of mares, but there was something exotic about it, too. True to what she said, her sphincter was wet, a thin droplet oozing down the lines of her creased skin.

"Have a feel," she encouraged, her claws depressing her buttocks as she gripped tighter and spread them apart, pulling the wrinkles taut and distorting her pinhole of an anus. "Don't be shy. I promise on my whole entire family that it's totally safe and clean. Go ahead, and don't worry about being gentle."

Her words, in conjunction with her provocative actions, assuaged his concerns, leaving him comfortable to reach out with a lone finger and draw the tip over the dribbling rhombus. The fluid clung to his finger, stretching into a droopy string as he pulled away and thinning until it snapped under its own weight. It was strangely familiar, resembling a mare's natural juices, but thicker and warmer, like commercially produced lube. The oddity didn't faze him, though, and he pressed his fingertip against Gaia's exit, rubbing in a circular motion and feeling just how narrow her pucker really was. With a curious determination, he applied pressure, amazed at the ease with which he was able to glide into her. It had almost looked like her hole was stenciled on, completely unremarkable and not at all as eye-catching as a mare's, but it managed to swallow his digit all the way to the knuckle, accepting his digit without any difficulty whatsoever. He tried a second, and then a third, all of them squeezing their way into her backdoor and jostling beside one another in a comfortable grip, her deliberate contractions squeezing his insertions gratefully.

When he pulled out, rather reluctantly, his fingers were slathered in the same glistening slime he'd brushed from her star, as if he'd dunked his digits into a full bottle of commercially available lubricant, a chord of it bridging his fingers and her hole. It was thick and stringy, clinging to the griffon's buttocks fur and Mac's fingers, and curving under its weight, until it broke and slapped soundlessly against Gaia's juicy thigh. Cautiously, the pony raised his glimmering fingers to his nose and sniffed warily, a tiny part of him expecting the worst. To his amazement and approval, there was nothing. Gaia had been completely right; she was clean, elastic, and absolutely able to take him without any trouble. Which meant...

"How good are you at ridin'?" he asked, sitting down on the towel. The griffon straightened up, letting her plump cheeks clap together as she let go of them.

"As good as you demand of me," she told him, puffing out her chest proudly. "If you want the best in the world, then you'll have struck gold. If you want something slower and more steady, hey, I'm your gal."

"How 'bout a show?" Mac suggested, laying his back against the towel and resting his hands behind his head. He smiled good-naturedly up at her, wearing his easy-going demeanour proudly and letting his stallionhood bob and sway rhythmically. The griffon grinned before gathering her composure and sashaying over to him, pulling the stallion's rod towards her and steadying it, circling him in long, deliberate steps, like a stripper teasing a dancing pole. She drew closer, flicking the fluffy tip of her tail over his vein-crossed surface, the prehensile appendage swirling around and loosely pumping his shaft, only to fall away after a few decent movements. She even dusted his glans, the gentle back-and-forth over his plateau with her fluffy tip pulling a groan from the pony and drawing his hips upwards. She stopped her treatment as soon as he reacted, continuing her rotation until she stopped facing away from him, her round globes parting to envelope him.

The flexed her hips, shaking her booty to hotdog his meat with minimal effort on her part, just easy, seductive movements that captivated his attention and glazed his underside with her secretions, lowering herself to his medial ring and shimmying against his flare teasingly. She didn't draw on the foreplay for long, knowing she'd milked the moment for as long as was tasteful, and instead looked over her shoulder as she brought his tip in between her buns and nestled it against her almost impercetible entrance. With a twinkle in her eye, she relaxed and allowed gravity to lower her, his blunt tool straining against her rear for a few seconds before her ring opened for him, and her slick passage engulfed his tumescence.

She was hot; heat bled from her body, pressing against his cockflesh as much as her silky walls did, the slickness she provided amplifying the temperature to sweltering levels. Unlike his usual experiences, this was a dry heat, or something he would've called dry if his journey wasn't made easy by the omnipresent ooze that coated his stiffness as he was taken deeper and deeper. Gaia seemed unstoppable, taking his shaft in steady, measured drops, lifting up with a squeeze of her anal muscles and plunging down further with every pass. She didn't even flinch as his medial ring popped past her sphincter, the additonal girth inconsequential next to the width she was already stuffing into her tailpipe.

Her butt met his groin before her ring met his sheath, leaving her some padding to decelerate. Mac grunted as she came to rest, fully ensconced by the insatiable griffon, who purred proudly at her achievement, sitting still so he could admire it as much as she did. Her rounded globes were front and centre, the softness of them squishing flat against his groin, and her tail slithered side to side, tickling at his torso as it moved. He reached for it, closing his hand around the whiplike appendage and tugging it playfully, only for her backdoor to clamp down around him. They shared a gasp, Mac's deeper tone mixing with Gaia's feminine pitch.

The action prompted her to move, swivelling her hips to tease his embedded staff and to truly demonstrate just how deep he was in her, his cock receiving a massage from every part of her as she gyrated and squeezed and hugged his length. Her movements transitioned into a slow hop, her rear lifting and exposing his greased shaft in little teasing flashes, each reveal showing more and more, like some sort of satirical striptease. She unfurled her wings in a slow, exaggerated display, stretching them out so he could see her in her full majesty, graceful and powerful as she rose and fell at a speed she set for herself.

"Is this a good view?" she asked, pausing as she bottomed out to wiggle in place, jiggling his cock in her tight confines. "My big round butt bouncing on your bitch-breaker? Is this what you like to see, master?" She resumed her bouncing, her cheeks slapping against his pelvis in heavy slaps as she drove herself downward at the top of each rise.

"Eeyup," Mac told her, clasping her tail and yanking it again. "Lotsa paddin' for the slammin'. It's damn good to see."

The griffon shuddered at his words, her breath catching as he complimented her assets. "Mm, master, you're too kind. I've got plenty to show from the front too if you want to see?"

"Not yet," he told her, yanking her tail again. She gasped, then squealed as he delivered a firm open-handed spank to each of her fleshy globes. "There. Now turn 'round."

"Yes sir!" she giggled, twisting her upper body around and swinging her leg up and over his supine form, pivoting 180 degrees in a couple of seconds. Her rectal grip around his cock remained tight, the friction of her spin perfect to send his dick throbbing and to pull a low groan from the stallion's lips. As soon as he'd returned his gaze to her fully, she began moving again keeping intense eye contact as she bounced more vigourously on his shaft, a confident, proud smile splitting her beak. Her boobs swayed and jiggled, retaining the momentum of her boisterous movements as she rose and fell, swivelled and swayed, travelling with her and springing back as she abruptly dropped down or leaped up again. All the while, she watched his face, her beak parted slightly.

"Dayum," he murmured, his eyes drawn to the entirety of her. There was so much to look at, so much to consume and admire, so much to salivate over. When she leaned back, her gash with its clittoral piercing demanded his attention, her trickling excitement highlighting her pink folds and framing the sight of his cock disappearing and emerging from her hungry backside.

His eyes were drawn back up to her bosom as Gaia grasped her tits and squeezed, her entire arms moving and her shoulders rolling as she kneaded her pillows, letting out hums and groans for his benefit. She closed her eyes briefly, her face contorting into expressions of pleasure and lust, performing her pleasure in grand theatrics as her digits pressed against her supple flesh, pushing down as far as she could muster and thrusting her chest forward so he could see how hard she plied. She hooked a talon through one of the rings, tugging it outward to pull at the nipple, her tit following the demanding direction, and let go, letting it boing back into its natural resting place. The next nipple followed, the griffon's fingers rolling and pulling and pinching, all while her body rose and fell to the unbroken beat.

"Gettin' close," he warned, his tip burgeoning already. That snapped the hen out of her routine; her hand moved down to her crotch, her digits running daintily over her clitty in small circles, the clicking of her talons against the ring lost over the slap of flesh on flesh and the sloppy wetness of their coupling. As she pulled upward, turning her powerful drops into a rapid humping, the schlick of her self-pleasure became more noticeable, as did the acceleration of her breathing. She worked her rump harder, jerking it back and forth in a cushiony blur, switching from pleasuring all of him to focusing on the most sensitive area of his pulsing pride. His flare expanded against her compressing walls, his firmness adding to her pleasure, which only made her contract harder, which fed his bubbling, spitting lust, the feedback sending them soaring to their peaks. Her tail wound around his unattended shaft, committing fully to stroking his staff, pumping up and down to give him that additional stimulation.

They either came at the same time, or within scant seconds of one another. Mac grunted and let his head strain backwards, his hips jerking upwards to try and stuff more of his member into her wringing ass. Gaia gasped and squeaked, her arms and hands trembling as they continued to move, stroking, rubbing, and toying with her tits and her twat, and the two fell onto the quaking rush of orgasm. The stallion's shaft visibly thicked as it pumped his load, throbbing mightly with the effort of pushing pints of his cream into the slut's waiting interior. It gushed, hot and thick, erupting from his cockhole at pressure, sweeping through her guts. Every new splash seemed to reset her ecstasy, sending her hurtling from atop the peak again and again, as if she were stuck on a loop.

They came down together, the shocks running through their bodies elongating each other's orgasms, their pleasure rising again as one of them pulsed or leaked or contracted, before they settled down again, their hearts thudding - Mac could feel her beat through her walls, the flesh vibrating against his rod - and their breathing deep. The griffon was still standing, her sphincter gripping his shaft like a vice, as though unwilling to let a single drop of his gift to escape. With a little difficulty, she eased herself up, straining to move past his broad flare without loosening her muscles entirely, a task in which she mostly succeeded; a little stream of his jizz ran from gaped exit and dribbled down her leg, but it was beautifully perverse sight, and it just emphasised how much more there was still in her when she hurreidly brought her hand underneath herself to plug her hole, her knuckles grazing his flare as she passed. Only when she'd stuffed in her claw up to her wrist did she move again, stepping away from Mac and his slowly-flagging pole.

He'd completely forgotten Zemballa was in the room until Gaia walked over to her. These two were experts at consuming his attention, and the embarassment he felt at having forgotten a third party's presence again was outweighed by how impressed he was that they were that good. With a few whispered words, the gently masturbating zebra was encouraged to her hooves, her cheeks flushed red at whatever she'd been told, and hand-in-hand with the griffon, they returned to the towels, standing taller than the stallion for the first time.

"Could we have the space please, Mac?" Gaia asked sweetly. The stallion couldn't say no to the politeness of her request, nor the two gorgeous females gazing down cutely at him. He stood up, leaving the impromptu mattress for the two of them to use. "You said you wanted a show, and we've got a show for you." She smirked knowingly as the zebra laid down, getting comfortable on her back, before nodding to the griffon, who turned away from the stallion and stood over the supine mare. With a glance over her shoulder, Gaia winked at Mac, spread her wings proudly, and removed her claw from her hole.

A deluge of spunk poured from the griffon's flooded rear, flowing forth like champagne from an uncorked bottle. Gaia spread her buttocks apart, giving the stream a less obstructed path towards the helpless zebra, painting the striped mare's face and chest in layers upon layers of cream. Mac watched in fascination as the griffon emptied herself, sharing the sticky flood he'd injected into her with the eager slut beneath her, practically erasing the black on her striped body. It was as alluring and inticing as watching a delicious baked good being drizzled with honey or icing, albeit the most depraved frosting of any tasty treated he'd ever seen. The stream slowed to a trickle, oozing from her hole and clinging to the fur of the hen's inner thighs, her anus flaring as she pushed, insisting on giving the zebra everything she had to give, and was rewarded with a few additional spurts, some of the mess exiting her with a rippling rasp, until she produced only bubbles.

The end result was chaotic and perverse, and it was one of the most beautiful sights Mac had ever seen. The griffon's rear was a splatter of white, cum bubbles inflating and popping from her glazed, winking asshole, and weak dribbles of jizz creeping down her groin and legs. The zebra was drenched in spooge, the slop piled on her so thickly it was like she'd been dipped headfirst into a vat of glue, and even her attempts to sweep the jizz towards her mouth to drink it down did little to impact the amount coating her. Shaking her booty to clear any remaining drops, Gaia let go of her ass and shuffled back, kneeling down to straddle the zebra and lowering her upper body so the two of them were pressed together in a creamy sandwich, their tongues working to clean the gunk as they shifted and ground against one another. Groans and purrs were interspersed with giggles and sighs, and their loins rubbed against one another as they played, softly and slowly gyrating back and forth, a pair of thick black lips against an austere slit and a thick nub against a delicate little bud.

Mac was transfixed by the display, the sight of the two females tribbing refilling his lust and returning him to full turgidity. The way they moved was smooth and sensuous, their bodies reacting instanteously to each other in a simple but flawless dance. It didn't need to be more than fluid swivels and tender contact to be a perfect performance, and the stallion was captivated until Gaia looked back and signalled him with a sultry gaze, a smirk, and a wiggle of her butt. Something about her cum-smeared face spurred him on, and he responded to her unspoken invitation with a passionate fervour, striding over and grabbing her buns roughly, spreading them wide with firm, clutching hands, his fingers digging deep into her padding.

Her squeal filled the room as he plunged into her, shunting his entire length into her in a violent shove of his hips. After she'd taken him so easily in her tighter hole, he wasn't worried about her being able to handle him the way nature intended. He pounded her without any pause for her to adjust, hammering in long, rapid strokes, letting her buns absorb the impact as he slammed into her. The clap of his pelvis against her fleshy rear was thunderous, the whap-whap-whap accompanied by shouts, squeals, and cheers from the griffon as she praised and encouraged him, the clarity of her words varying as he ravaged her, brushing against her nerves or grinding over a sweet spot, his glans clashing against the neck of her womb roughly enough he could swear it produced sparks.

She screamed as she came, driven over the edge by his relentless plowing, his cock plunging into her depths even as she clenched around him. He didn't stop for her second or her third, or even when she stopped talking at all, resigning herself to guttral groans and delighted whimpers. Her cunny clung to his cock, gripping him adoringly throughout his mindless battering, speaking the praises Gaia couldn't. He gritted his teeth as she wrung his tool again, yet another climax thrust upon her, and joined her in her bliss, emptying his nuts into her chamber.

In a deft movement, he pulled out from the griffon and dropped his glans against Zemballa's gate, thrusting in more gently than he had with his catbird slut. The zebra moaned for him, her pussy accepting him like an old, familiar friend, her walls smooth and nearly frictionless from how wet she was. It didn't take as much to make her squeal and cum, and he'd finished her three times before he had a wicked urge to swap back to the other female. Leaving the zebra's confines, he lunged back into the hen, driving her wild from the unexpected attention. When she came, it was back to Zemballa, and then back again, and then back again.

The mare didn't object as he rubbed a finger against her ponut, teasing the bump of muscle. He realised how different it was compared to the hen's, more leathery, yet smoother than the wrinkle of the buttslut's exit. With little resistance, he was able to ease in a single finger, and then two. She wasn't as confident as Gaia, but with some coaxing, and many more orgasms, she was able to fit all four of his fingers, stretching to accommodate what else he had to offer. She came around his fingers several times, sometimes while he was tending to her cove, sometimes while he was balls-deep in the griffon atop her, but with every climax, she grew more comfortable fitting him, her additional advantage helping to smooth the penetration.

Mac let the last of his load seep out of his cumhole before he pulled out of that sweet pussy one last time. His abs were awash with sweat and strings of his own jizz, a result of his plundering of his two female's holes. He didn't care at all; it was a mark of his effort, and he felt a swell of masculine pride at the knowledge that he'd done this to them. Pulling out his fingers, the stallion guided his crown to the loosened, empty pucker, its rim glistening with her naturally produced lube, and rested the broad, blunt tip between her buns. Easing forward, he moved in small, incremental thrusts, gently introducing his stallionhood to her backdoor.

She was tight. Her butt resisted his efforts, but through coaxing, encouragement, and a passionate makeout with the griffon atop her, Zemballa relaxed enough to let him in, all the way to his sheath. Her canal clenched around him, squeezing and exploring the rigid rod stuffed deep inside her, and as he moved, she whined for him, trembling and whimpering as he claimed her more thoroughly than any stallion ever had before. Her hips began to gyrate, and then she was panting, her body growing enamoured with his presence. Before long, she was peaking, driven to an anal orgasm that she could only shriek out to the world, even as Gaia stifled her with a dominant, tongue-filled kiss.

When he did cum, she bucked her hips to drive him deeper, wanting more and more as he hosed her guts, flooding her insides while she milked him for all he was worth. No matter how much had gave, she wanted more, and her muscles worked hard to extract every drop from his cum-tanks. Exhausted, they fell atop one another, sweaty and sticky and buzzing from exertion. Mac was empty; he'd pumped and shot and injected everything he could give tonight, and the two females were full. It was a good balance, he thought to himself, chuckling softly as he tried to pull out, only to be stopped by Zemballa's legs wrapping around his waist. He didn't need to go anywhere, and cleaning up could be done later, he reasoned, acquiescing to her plea to stay where he was. Leaning against the griffon, he kissed the back of her neck, his hand reaching down to caress the zebra's cheek beneath her.

Exhausted and filthy, but happy. That was good.

Applejack was exhausted. She'd lost track of time, and thinking was becoming harder. Perspiration covered every inch of her body, and she shook lightly from the aftershocks of her treatment. Whenever she was thirsty, she'd be made to drink, replenishing the water she lost as she was forced into orgasm after orgasm and sweated her body weight. It was always the same stallions - at least, she thought it was. How many were there? Had more come and gone when she wasn't paying attention. She didn't know any more. All she knew was what was happening right now, and what was immediately around her; the heat of her body, the sweetness of the air, the ache in her muscles.

"Eahira, anzur," a voice called to her, and she raised her head dazedly, but promptly. One of her handlers was standing before her, watching her intently. She didn't say anything, but held his gaze. "Anzur," he repeated, stepping to the side and sweeping a hand to gesture to something on the wall. Was that a window? She could see a mare on the other side, somepony she didn't recognise, chained with her hands above her head. She observed, wondering who this was, and why they were showing her this stranger. She shifted, and so did the other mare. Applejack blinked, and so did the stranger. That wasn't a window into a cell next door - it was a mirror. But if that was a mirror, that meant the stranger-

The orange mare turned and twisted, looking at her reflection from as many angles as she could. Her straw-coloured mane was flowing freely and wildly over her shoulder and back, as damp with sweat as the rest of her, and leagues away from her much more kempt manestyle. Her fur was brighter than she remembered, seeming to shine despite how dark its saturation made it, and she looked different in some way she couldn't pin down. The bridle around her face seemed sharper than it should, the colour popping out, maybe even glowing, but never clearly enough for her to point to. For all the changes she'd endured, she didn't seem worse somehow, but something was definitely wrong. She wasn't herself, in some small, imperceptible way. Sure, her mane was all over the place, and she looked as if she'd run the Running of the Leaves, but those were superficial, something that could be fixed. What seemed off was something more fundamental to her, something she'd lost. Something significant had changed, though she still looked like the mare she'd always been.

Like a mare.

The realisation hit her suddenly, and she ran her eyes over her reflection as the truth of what lay before her sank in. Since childhood, she'd been a hard worker, taking on tasks regardless of her suitability and training herself to be bigger and better and stronger and faster. She was a proud independent mare, and her persistence had given her a firm physique, boasting muscles that put some stallions to shame. She'd arm-wrestled body-builders, stopped a runaway carriage with grit and determination and two legs honed for kicking, and she'd fought monsters three times her size and won. She was a force to be reckoned with, and all it took to see that was one glance.

That was not the mare who faced her. She was facing a mare of feminine grace, with slender legs and arms, a pair of bountiful, youthful d-cups weighing on her chest, and an alluring hourglass figure. Her thighs were soft and plush, her bottom jiggled as she moved, and her tummy was trim and flat. From every angle, this was a womanly mare, her features attuned to an ideal and adjusted from imperfect to carefully designed. A supermodel might spend millions of bits in cosmetic surgery and specialist creams and ointments and not emerge as polished as this, and the facade of beauty those crude methods produced could never hold up to the natural authenticity of the image in front of her. This was the figure every teenage girl strived for and every teenage boy dreamed about. It was what philosophers and artists struggled and strained to conjure into being, to imitate on paper through paint or ink, through image or written word. It was a mare free from the imperfections of nature and free from the imperfections of the artifical attempts at remedying the flaws present in every pony.

This wasn't her, Applejack thought. For all the beauty and brilliance, it wasn't what she was. It wasn't what she'd built herself up to be. Her physique was gone, the years of work and selfless effort that had resulted in her form was gone. Everything it represented - her character, her resilience, her pride and self-esteem, her dedication - was gone, swept away like it all meant nothing. For any other mare, this might've been paradise, but she hadn't worked towards this, or wanted it, or earned it. She hadn't earned it.

She hadn't earned it.

The phrase kept repeating in her mind, smothering her other thoughts. She tried to cast it away, but it persisted, ignoring the shaking of her head, and around her head, her bridle warmed again, the heat pressing against her skin. It seeped through her mind, extinguishing the dread, the disgust, the anger, the contempt, any lingering rebellious thoughts. She stopped worrying, she stopped hating the sight of herself, and she stopped blaming anyone. Maybe that was the problem? Had she hated herself? Had she always thought that she had to prove herself? Was that why she was so angry?

Maybe she had earned this, she thought, one of the few things that was able to remain without being swamped by her inner censor. Maybe she'd been exactly the right sort of pony who deserved this treatment. She'd been so angry before, so disrespectful, so rude. They'd changed her, taken away the contempt and the insolence, and now here she was, somepony new and fresh. Somepony who had been purified, washed clean of her flaws and sins. Somepony she was supposed to be, perhaps?

No, she hadn't earned this body, this mentality. Not yet. But she'd needed it, and she'd deserved it as a birthright. And now, these strangers had given her the opportunity to be worth the kindness they'd shown her. She looked over herself again, admiring the improvements. She looked cuter, her eyes twinkling with a feminine meekness, and her expression was softer and more demure. Was her face smoother? Perhaps, maybe a little bit more round, her cheeks softer and more pinchable. Her arms were not longer iron, but smooth and slender, her bust was, well, bustier, and her hips were fuller and her waistline thinner. She didn't have those hideous pseudo-masculine abdominals anymore, but something more fitting of a lady. Rarity would be proud when she returned home! Her thighs weren't monstrous, but were now perfect eye-candy for males of all species. She shivered to think about the attention she'd get. Maybe that's why she had no suitors before; she'd been a freak all along.

"Thank y'all," she murmured, looking away from her reflection to address the stallions. "Y'all were far too kind. Ah'm sorry ah caused all this trouble." The stallion nearest her reached out a hand to touch her cheek, his palm gliding over her fur in a tender, affectionate manner, and she nearly melted. She couldn't suppress a groan at how good it felt, the sensation amplified tenfold to what it should be, and her heart brimming with adoration. Was this what love was? She didn't know, and she didn't need to put words to feelings. That was something about her that hadn't changed. She just nuzzled his hand, kissing instinctively whenever her lips came across skin.

It was hard when he pulled away - nearly heartbreaking - as if what had felt like an eternity rubbing her face against his palm wasn't enough. Fortunately, he had a good reason. Of course he did; he knew what he was doing, and he wanted what was best for her. He turned to the stallion behind him, who'd carried in a pillow atop which sat an assortment of gold jewellery, and picked one up. She hadn't noticed the other stallion approach, but that didn't matter - she didn't need to know anything. She smiled as the one who'd stroked her cheek said something in his beautiful, exotic language, unable to comprehend him, but loving the way he spoke anyway. He tried again, then gestured to her and stuck out his tongue. With a start, she realised what he wanted, and mimicked him, stretching her tongue out as far as she could. She felt silly for not knowing sooner what he wanted her to do, and held her muscle out for him as he readied the delicate little stud and carefully positioned a needle over her extended appendage.

The scream tore itself from her throat as the needle stabbed into her, the pain lancing along her tongue as though she'd be jabbed with a white-hot poker. The stallion continued to fiddle, slipping the metal stud into the wound and securing it in place before he stepped back, leaving her to writhe as he fetched the next item. Applejack looked up at him through watering eyes as he approached, sucking on her tongue and trying to ignore the hurt. He was carrying a ring, but what interested her was the captive bead, or more specifically, its design; it was an apple. Had this been designed specifically for her? As she pondered, her heart beat in her chest, anxiety washing over her as he grasped her breast firmly in one hand and squeezed tight, securing it and aiming the needle at her thick, dark bud.

She couldn't look away as the sharp point tore through her flesh with ease, passing through one side and emerging effortlessly on the other, a flash of steel from a jut of brown. She hissed, wincing as he pulled the needle out once again and hooked the hoop through the gap he'd created, securing the decoration with a few deft twists. It was intrusive, but it felt neat and secure, and despite the pain, there was something comforting about it. She held this thought in her mind as he pierced her other nipple, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out, and bravely watching as the stallion fasten her marking. She felt a swell of pride at her awards, and having endured their fitting so bravely. She wondered if her brother would be proud of her too. Of course he would, once he saw her; he'd be so proud of the mare she'd become, how much she'd improved.

She tried to nuzzle the stallion again, but he'd moved back, and she peered around him to see what he was doing. There was another ring, just like the two she was now wearing as bosom decorations. She wondered why he was picking it up. After all, she only had two nipples, and they were occupied. Where would a third one go? The question rolled around in her head, confusing her, until he knelt down and spread her legs apart. She shifted, the realisation scaring her, and her heart doubled in its speed. The prick of the needle made her whimper and she tensed, and then-

She screamed. Long and loud, she hollered and wailed, bellowing until her throat was sore and her voice was hoarse. The stallions had long since finished by the time her vocalisation turned to sobs, and she hung her head, clenching her eyes tight as tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn't been strong or brave after all. She was sore and tired and dirty, torn down from on high and broken. They'd sculpted her into something new, whether or not she wanted it.

"Thank you," she whispered, biting back the tears to utter the words. "Thank you."

She did need it, whether or not she wanted it.

She was exhausted and sore and filthy, and that was good.

It was good.