Saddled

Mac was diligent, signing the cheques properly and in advance, and so all that there was to do was to hand them out when the Friday rolled around. It was something his employees liked about him; he promised to pay them on the last Friday of the month, and he delivered, without exception. Each pony thanked him, wishing him a happy weekend, and departed, taking their money to the bank, or to the tavern, or wherever else they so pleased. He didn't intrude on their personal lives, other than to keep tabs on their birthdays or other similar events that required some level of awareness. That's something else they liked about him; he truly treated his employees like family, gifting them shoes or clothes or bonuses, or whatever else they most needed whenever their day of the year rolled around.

"Thank you very much, sir," Filthy Rich commented, taking the cheque with a small bow of his head. "I look forward to seeing you next week."

"Likewise," the towering red pony agreed. "Is Diamond still okay to look after the kids?"

"Of course, sir," the former business pony answered, tucking the cheque away in his pocket, right next to Sweet Apple Acres' business cards. "She's more than happy to have them, as soon as she's done cleaning the house."

"Tell her not to worry 'bout the house," Mac told the older stallion. "My sister can take care of it later. Tell her she's free to go now, nothin' cut from her wages. Ah'll pick up the kids tomorrow at midday, an' she's still entitled to her foalsitting bonus. Your wife, too."

"That's awfully kind of you, sir," Filthy responded gratefully, bowing his head again.

"Cut out that drivel," Mac chortled. "It's Mac to you, y'hear? Ah ain't some plump aristocrat sittin' on a throne. Unless you want me callin' you pa, of course."

"I think we should avoid that," the other stallion agreed, chuckling quietly. "Have a good weekend, Mac."

"An' you too." They shook hands, as they always did, and with a nod, Filthy left the office, closing the door behind him.

The office was an early addition to the house, a necessary extension as Sweet Apple Acres expanded its business venture and the administration became a much larger part of their day-to-day functioning. At first, Apple Bloom had taken over, offering her time to help contribute to the logistics and the like while Mac did the manual work. Applejack pretended to help too, but her role was largely consigned to menial tasks, like washing the produce. She wasn't cut out for lifting and bucking any more, but Mac still ordered her to act like the stubborn tomboy she'd once been to avoid any awkward explanations.

Mac smiled a little at the memory of their return from Saddle Arabia, the cautious questions about the new arrivals and the bridles they wore from the rest of Applejack's friends and the townsponies. He'd prepped them on the train on the way back, telling them what they were to say and how they were to act, that the zebra and the griffoness were two women he'd happened to have struck a chord with during his time away and that they were tentatively dating, and that Applejack had grown attached to the fashion of that kingdom. After a few days, everypony shrugged and accepted the new state of affairs, especially Rarity, who gushed and repeatedly complimented the earth pony's new figure and sublime fashion sense.

The money began to roll in after the first shipment was sent out, Mac's workload increased, and he found himself toiling in the fields from dawn to dusk, ensuring he could keep up with the demand. Thankfully, he had his slaves to relieve his stress at night, and to motivate him in the morning. As the lucrative deal showed fruit, he invested in labour, reducing the strain he put himself under, and upping the production he could ship out to other kingdoms, which in turn increased the amount he could invest in his business. He made sure his workers were well compensated for their effort, expecting a lot from them and paying them accordingly, in addition to the bonuses he threw in for exemplary work or because there was a celebration to be had, even if most of those were Mac's baby showers. The town had initially been confused when he'd introduced a griffon cub and a zebra foal as his children, but he'd just told them genetics was random, and with the scarcity of interspecies pairings, they'd believed him, never considering he'd chosen what his offspring would be. As for the half-sister that Applejack had birthed, well, the town still didn't know who the father was. It was just a one night stand she'd told them, explaining nothing more than that, and the apparently absent father didn't mean the foal wasn't raised with love, as if Mac himself had conceived her.

He smiled at the thought of how well everything had gone. Looking out of the window, he gazed over the numerous buildings he'd constructed with his own two hands, along with his labourers, a swell of pride forming in him even after the long months since their completion. The distillery was his favourite construction, being the one he'd put together piece by piece with parts he'd machined himself, but the others were necessary for the continued running of his business; the packing plant, the warehouse, the maintenance bay, and the rest he had to oversee on a daily basis. He'd have preferred to be working out there, but the sheer diversity of the workload was beyond even him, and he had the presence of mind to know it was his duty to lead, not to be stubborn out of a misplaced sense of pride. His workers - the farmers, the mechanics, the transporters - all relied on him to keep their jobs running efficiently, and insisting he join them rather than ensuring they had a job the following day wouldn't be right. That's something Applejack would've done, before she'd learned her limitations and been readjusted.

The staff filed out of his house, leaving in high spirits, chatting and laughing as they headed home or to whichever activity they felt like doing after work. It wasn't even evening yet, so they had a lot of time to kill. Seeing their contentment was part of the reward for him, knowing he'd brought something to their lives. Before he'd taken over the administration of Sweet Apple Acres, Apple Bloom had estimated that they directly employed five per cent of Ponyville, and increased the town's value by upwards of tens of thousands of bits per year from commerce. He wasn't vain enough to check, but he still allowed himself the satisfaction of it being a possibility.

When the last of the workers had gone, Mac turned from the window and left his office, locking it thrice behind him, before walking unhurriedly to the house's forth bedroom, letting his anticipation build with every step of the slow walk. Outside of his business, the newest bedroom to be added was his favourite construction project, and one of his most decadent but fiercely guarded secrets. He'd told everypony to stay out of it for their own safety, warning them of various hazards inside, and most ponies listened. Apple Bloom had agreed to stay well enough away, and his staff had enough respect for him to not raise any of the questions they innevitably had. His children were easily the greatest obstacle; once, he'd caught Gallant lifting Violet up to the lock on his shoulders, his daughter trying to find a way to open the forbidden door. When he'd asked them what they were doing, they'd stumbled and fell, and after he'd caught them, he demanded to know why they were deliberately disobeying him. Gallant had stepped in to defend his sister, claiming it was his idea, and that he'd pursuaded her to try and see what was inside the room. Mac had warned them in no uncertain terms that they'd be grounded for a month if they ever tried that again, then hoisted them up in his arms and took them out for ice cream, reiterating how much he loved them.

He only ever used the room when they were away, for the simple reason he knew they were curious. Respect or not, they were kids, and they wanted to know why they weren't allowed in that room. Diamond Tiara's foalsitting helped him a bunch, giving the three mares of the household a break from looking after five boisterous children day in, day out. Without a doubt, Gallant was the most mischievous, cooking up all sorts of plans and pranks to entertain himself, and most of the effort in raising children came down to keeping him out of trouble. Maybe it was because the griffon cub was the only male among his siblings, and so naturally felt protective, but he was endlessly supportive of his sisters, jumping to their side to help them or protect them whenever the barest sign of trouble became apparent. It didn't quite mitigate the fact that he dragged his sisters into his mischief, but it made Mac proud regardless, and Gaia was beside herself with joy at having given her master a strong, brave, handsome son. He had her eyes, too, shimmering teal orbs that glimmered with intelligence, curiosity, and charisma.

Reaching the door, he shook himself from his paternal pride, focusing on the task at hand. Raising a hand to the middle of the dark, smooth wood, he pressed his ring finger against its surface and slowly, deliberately, traced a winding shape downwards. He'd needed Princess Twilight's help to contsruct it, requiring a pony he trusted who was capable of magic of this sort, and while she'd been embarrassed to learn what he intended to use it for, she agreed it was appropriate given the presence of children and workers in the house. A lock could be picked, a password could be overheard, but a symbol and a spoken statement which only had meaning to its intended occupants was about as secure as they could reasonably make it. As the meandering, serpentine trace reached its midpoint, he whispered the words clearly.

"Takin' a bite of the apple ain't no sin."

Finishing his gesture, he stepped back, listening to the arcane mechanism within clicking and unlatching, the stalwart barrier slowly undoing itself for him. With a widening grin, he watched as the final metallic click rang out and the door creaked inwards, opening to him. Taking a breath, excitement tickling his sesnes, he stepped inside, slowly closing the door and waiting for it to complete its locking sequence before he turned around. The silence settled, and he bided his time, stretching and letting the wait drag on for as long as he wished. After he'd cracked his arms and shoulders, he permitted his attention to fall into the room, drinking in the beautiful sight.

Mac had never been one for ostentatious decoration, and so the room was austere by most standards; the walls were tarnished oak, as was the ceiling, and the floor, sturdily built, but aesthetically bland save for the aromatic candles, if he were to ask almost any architect or interior designer. That was never the point, though, given that the walls muffled sound far moreso than the rest of the house, and the walls were adorned not with artwork or carvings or any other monotonous, pompous decoration, but with racks and shelves, all holdings of endless sorts. There were whips, paddles, handcuffs, lubricants, dildos, vibrators, plugs, probes, gags, rope, and such a variety of equipment that he couldn't help but smirk in smug satisfaction, especially when he noticed that three particular pieces were missing. They were cleaned and organised daily, so an absence was a clear sign that one of the pieces had been deliberately removed. In this instance, he knew exactly which three pieces were missing, and turned to the centre of the room.

The round bed had a retractable bedhead for when it was needed for tying, but today it was tucked away, leaving them a plateau of resting on which to conduct their activities. The sheets were pink silk, the pillows stuffed full of the finest down he could purchase, and his three slaves were presented as he'd told them to be, with their heads in the sheets, their rears raised, and their tails flagged. They'd chosen their plugs well, the stones imbedded into the base of each suiting them perfectly. Gaia had gone for an orange, a vibrant display for her feisty personality no doubt, while Applejack had gone for sapphire, and Zemballa for ruby. Each of them shone without detracting from the rest of their sumptuous bodies, the instruments sealing their tailholes a fraction of what they could offer.

"Y'all look good today," he commented, running his hands up and down their butts, gliding down their glutes and generally feeling what was his. "Is there somethin' y'all want?"

"Nothin' much," Applejack teased, swaying her tush slowly from side to side. "Maybe just a little time with our magnificent master..."

"Anything you want," Zemballa added, swishing her tail for him. "Anything, master."

"I want to be fucked into a coma, master," Gaia told him bluntly. "I'm so horny I could burst, but if you want to continue denying me any pleasure, that's your right, master."

The stallion grinned silently behind them, knowing they couldn't see him breaking his stern facade; he'd trained them too well to dare look back at him without his permission. He loved the griffoness' candour, her bluntness melding surprisingly well with her knowledge of her place. She never overstepped her bounds, or dared suggest he was doing something he shouldn't be, but she wasn't afraid to express herself in terms of how she felt. He'd ordered them to not touch themselves for the last week, waiting until they had a free morning to allow them all night to indulge in their perversions, and they knew what that meant. The knowledge would only add to their desperation, he knew, and he'd set an example by refusing to masturbate for the same duration. All four of them were steeped with need, and with the moment before them, they were itching to cut loose.

"Here's what we're doin'," he informed them, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He could see from the prick of their ears that they could hear him, and their tails swished excitedly. "Ah'm layin' down, an' y'all are takin' turns to see which of y'all is worthy of havin' my next foal. You've got until you cum to make me bust a nut, an' if you don't, then it's the next creature's turn, an' so on. Winner gets bred all night. Simple rules, simple game."

The wait for him to undress was torturous, every second stretching to an eternity, their lust roiling and snarling inside them as they obediently waited, refusing to give in and jump him then and there. They began to twitch as his belt hit the floor with a thud, and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of his trousers being shrugged off and tossed to the floor was met wth shivers and winking pussies. When he stepped around them, their eyes followed him, burning into his back, tracking him intensely as he languidly lay down on the bed and shimmied into the centre, resting comfortably with his head against the pillows and his back against the as-of-yet uncrumpled sheets. They weren't fooled by his facetious delaying, he knew - his erection was proud and tall, bobbing in time with his heartbeat, and with how full and burgeoning his nuts were, it was clear he was in as much need as they were. Still, he took his time, living up to his responsibility as master of these mares, the one who was supposed to embody control and discipline. Finally, he settled down, letting silence fall for long, dense seconds. The anxiety grew in the air, excitement seeping in so thickly that the room seemed to buzz.

"Go."

There was a mad scramble, the females leaping towards his junk only to be pulled back by one of the others, each of them desperately trying to impale themselves on his glory. There was some snarling, and even some biting, but each of them looked excited, thrilled, to be competing to be the first to seat themselves on his monument, to have him stuff them full. Finally, after nearly a full minute of hard-fought contestation, one of them managed to shove herself onto his cock, engulfing enough of it that the other two pulled back respectfully, understanding their place. They watched as she took their master deeper, bouncing with abandon to fully swallow down his meat. She bounced, gasped, groaned, praised, and indulged in the simple pleasure from which she'd been denied. Within minutes, she was squirting, finishing her turn and being removed even as she wrung his cock.

The next was just the same, managing to last merely a few minutes after mounting and slamming herself down, riding him hard and fast until she too added to the musky juices matting his fur. The third was, predictably, no better, splashing his sloshing nuts with her effluence, shuddering as he drove her to climax without doing anything. The first was barely ready again by the time her turn came around, and it was only the threat of not having his cock inside her - or worse, disqualification - that spurred her to take her place and ride him. She lasted a little longer this time, but still squirted without receiving his desired release. The cycle repeated, the three of them soaking him over their many attempts to get him to put another foal in them.

Mac lay back and revelled in the simple, lazy satisfaction of females - his females - breaking themselves to please him, to get something from him that only he could provide. They tried so hard, pushed themselves, and even when they failed, they refused to give up. All because he'd told them to, because he knew what they needed as well as they knew themselves. It was a long competition, the trio trying everything they could, from making out for his viewing pleasure to turning around and riding him reverse cowgirl, showing off their plugged butts and juicy, bouncing booties. He drank in the sights, but didn't give them what they wanted, not until they'd earned it. Finally, innevitably, one of them moved the right way, squeezed down, did something well enough that he lost the battle with his will and flared, blasting her cervix with ropes of steaming jizz, the cream boiling as it ejected from his cumhole. Roaring like a feral beast, he grasped her hips, his instincts taking over as he unloaded a week's worth of nut into the victorious slut, the girl in question cheering and whooping proudly.

His orgasm lasted several seconds, but that was the only amount of time he was out of commission; immediately afterwards, he pulled her down to his chest, rolled them over, and levered her legs towards her head, letting them rest on his shoulders. Bent at nearly 180 degrees, she was in the perfect position to be bred, his cock delving deep into her valley, his length taking up every available inch of space. He rutted furiously, driving her into screaming orgasm after screaming orgasm, his brutal batterng making her crotch a fountain, her eyes rolling back as he melted her mind. Her anal plug popped free from her asshole, pushed out by the pressure of his girth against the toy, leaving her slightly agape and the lube-slick implement to be picked up by one of the others, who sucked whorishly on it. The other two females licked and lapped at the spilled femcum, tasting their mindbroken sister, vicariously living the unrelenting fucking she was willfully enjoying. Their tongues reached Mac's nuts and pucker, lapping at his cum-tanks and wrinkled rotunda, urging him onwards and begging him to push a huge load into their slave sister, their fellow breeding slut, to use her for her purpose of giving him - them - children.

The fact he'd already busted his largest load of the week didn't matter to his second ejaculation. It surged through him like a tsunami, erupting from him like a burst fire hydrant, and flooded the slave's fertile, receptive womb, saturating her breeding chamber and bringing her to another howling climax. His mind danced, but he didn't care about the colours or the images that flashed across his vision, not when he was filling a female, his female, with his seed, keeping every drop of his ball batter sealed safely in her most important organ. He wasn't going to let her risk even a miniscule chance of not getting pregnant, not when he was owed another son. Gallant would be so happy with a little brother, and Mac was going to do his damndest to provide for his family.

"M-master..."

"Ah know," he told her, grinning as they kissed. "Nice an' full?" She nodded, and he deepened the kiss, sharing tongues and letting their passion renew. "Ain't done yet, slut. We've got all night, an' ah know you've got at least five more hours in you after ah made you wait this long for it."

All of them were happy to hear it, even the two who were delegated to rimming their stud and lapping at his balls as their contents was spilled inside their luckier slave sister, refusing to stop until they'd drained him and their own energy reserves had been fully expended. Finally, they collapsed, exhausted, sweaty, and satisfied, the sheets soaked with the results of their joy and their hard work, cuddling in a tight mass to doze off to a well-deserved sleep. Mac ruminated on his luck, hugging his harem close, his hand resting on the belly of the next mother of his foal. He smirked, unable to manage a full grin as his eyes drifted close, the smell of his lovers filling his sinuses and his mind as he sank into the comfortable embrace of sleep. The workers would be happy to hear they'd be having another baby shower, an evening of celebration and generosity from their boss, but he'd be happier. He had everything he wanted, and life still gave him more.

What a lucky stallion he was.