An Interlude in Bondage

It was what worked for them, his mistress holding his gaze until Madoc shivered and looked away.

Damn it...

Why did it have to do be so damn hot?

"You're not going to walk straight until the New Year, colt."

The threat was clear in her voice, but all he could do was flutter out a whinny through his nostrils, the high pitch betraying his need as his cock flexed and bobbed excitedly. Pre-cum splattered over his thighs and lower abdomen, dripping to the floor, but that would be a submissive's job to clean up later, his need too great to consider the ramifications of such an action at that time.

No... No, he couldn't do anything, not as his mistress stood tall, one knee pressed up close to his, pinning his shin, even if he was already bound. The other hoof remained firmly planted into the ground as the thick head of the toy ground up tenaciously to his tail hole. His tail was no help in concealing it, though the stallion would have flicked it out of the way for her in a heartbeat, his backside empty after the loss of the vibrator.

Yet he had no words and no power to tell her to fuck him, a grunting, heaving, sweating mess of a stallion, far from the stud that he might have considered himself to be before she had come into his life. But there were better things to be had in the push of that cock inside him, finally giving him what his body craved. Where he should have softened, penetration taking his mind to new sensations and fresh luxury, cooling wax layered across the top side of his body, his cock surprised him by staying hard, desperately so. Maybe it was just how long she had edged him, though he was sure she had teased him for longer in the past?

His head spun, grunting, trying to cry out around the gag, though his strangled cries were muffled at best as she slid into him. There was no gentleness in his mistress as his arse accepted every inch of her cock, slamming in, forcing the rise of the medial ring that had been defined on the shaft in past his ring.

Madoc grunted, eyes half-closed, losing himself, struggling to keep his head up as the soft lighting played over his eyelids. It may have been just right to set the mood, but it made him feel as if he was drifting away to another time and place, another world, all while his body was strapped down right where it needed to be. There was no way for him to truly go anywhere, not when his mistress needed him, and that was exactly the way Madoc wanted it to be as every thrust of her hips rocked him and the bondage bench.

The padded squashed and flexed under the shift of his body, though the horse was not about to worry about something as small and as insignificant as that, grunting deep in the back of his throat. How did she so easily reduce him to something animalistic, though in such a position, with her hips a little lower than his, he could look into her eyes, the fire sparking there, flickering and dancing as if it only needed the right moment to come to light. But he could hardly hang onto a moment like that as her hips thrust and ground, powerfully sending that cock into his tight tail hole. Sure, he had been prepared, kind of, with the vibrator and the rampant teasing, but his mistress never usually fucked him that hard that quickly!

That was what she wanted, however, watching him shudder, fingers twitching, his cock bobbing and jerking with every push of her hips, acting as if the faux cock strapped to her crotch was a real one with real sensation. She grunted, lips parting to allow the soft, fleshy lash of her tongue out, relishing in it, the dominant throb of heated power.

Looking over his wax-splatted body, she pounded him as if it was the last fuck they'd ever have, sacrificing something herself in the moment, for the dominant had a vulnerability in control too. They could let it all go in the moment it mattered the most, the pressure of the strap-on and the harness across her crotch making her wetter and wetter, her body straining to get even more out of it. Her tail lashed the air as she rumbled a snort that would have seemed better-placed coming from a stallion.

But she was not a stallion, despite the muscle in her arms showing through clearly as she bore over him, putting more and more of her strength into her thrusts as she crammed every inch of that cock deep, stretching him out. There was no inch of the faux shaft left outside his anal ring as he took it all with a throaty nicker, tired out as his eyelids fell heavier and heavier, dragging him down.

Oh, he was close... Though she knew that it would only take a few more savage, pounding, driving thrusts to send him keening over the edge, snorting and howling, bucking in his bonds like a wild stallion. Yet Madoc would always be her tamed little stallion, her domestic pet, the one who would be found at her hooves at the start of every scene, knowing his place.

The slap of her hips on his exposed thighs and arse filled the room, though the one thing that Amethyst was careful not to do was to hit his balls. That was a play for another time and another place, not that night, not as she imagined that she could feel him squeezing and tensing around her, as if he was trying to coax cum from her shaft.

Harder and faster... There was no reason to hold back as she finally took his cock in hand, pumping it in rough, crude time with her thrusts, his squeal of helplessness taking him there. For it was in that moment that Madoc could not hold back for a moment more, ejaculating wildly, cum shooting from his cock, splattering his chest, his stomach, cumming as hard as he would have done as if she had left him denied in chastity for months on end.

The stallion's head swum, losing himself. All that mattered was orgasm, the pump of his cock, the squeeze of his tail hole, how everything came together so perfectly that it could not be believed. Yet the stallion did not have to believe it to experience it, grunting, groaning, unaware of all the sounds he was making as the metal bit knocked against his teeth, the joint in the middle resting heavily on his tongue.

She did not slow, forcing him through the point where he was stimulated too much, intent on milking every drop from his cock, the creamy splatters adding to the wax artwork already painted across his body. Her hand did not move slowly over his cock, bumping over the dried wax, though that only added a different tease of sensation to a pulsing moment that he thought, in the depths of it, was never going to end.

Maybe he blacked out. Maybe he drifted off. All Madoc knew when he came around was that the cock was gone from his arse and his mistress' bare pussy, framed by her crotchless underwear, was above his lips. With his head laid all the way back, hanging down over the end of the bench, he groaned, lapping deeply up into her pussy, tasting her juices, practically dripping down her thighs.

He loved her arousal. He loved how much she enjoyed taking him, using him, her body never wanting to hide that. And it was not something to be denied either as he played the thick fleshiness of his equine tongue over her clit, making her huff and pant, so close to her high that it would only take a few moments more.

Yet there was no edging for Mistress Amethyst as she rode his muzzle, one hoof up on the bench, though the position did not matter, as long as she could hump and grinding against his face, head thrown back in a triumphant neigh as she too finally hit her high. Orgasm pounded through her, her pussy tight, clenching on nothing, muscles that she had not even thought about before contracting while her legs quivered. She kept her grip on her colt, however, holding herself in place, for there was no evading her high, half crushing his muzzle into her thigh. If she had been riding his face on the bed or similar, she would have squeezed her thighs around his head and ground her clit into his nose.

The position was different, the lap of his tongue and the suckle of his lips pulling her through orgasm, blinking back to warming, softening reality with her chest heaving. Though they were in desperate need of a shower, easing through the afterglow with his shaft coming down on his stomach, slipping back into his sheath, they stayed there for a moment, resting, relaxing. Her muscles loosened a little, a nicker on her lips, her colt groaning under her as he gave in to bodily exhaustion.

"Don't worry, colt," she murmured, running her hand down the lines of his body, admiring the waxwork on him. "I've got you. Let's see about some clean-up, hm?"

Nickering weakly, all Madoc could do was agree. His muscles ached, shoulders strained, though he would not have changed his interlude in bondage for anything other than what his mistress had planned for him. The ghost of a sleepy smile picked at his lips, yet his body was too tired to make it known as it would have otherwise.

What kind of Christmas gift other than that, after all, could a colt like him possibly have hoped for?