The Stable Ch. 01

"Get her, boy" one of the women breathed. She wanted to see him stud the filly, they all did, their desire eclipsing their initial concern for the beautiful pony's safety.

The stud turned his head and looked at her, the first time since entering the stall that he had acknowledged the presence of the six onlookers. The dark fury of his eyes froze them into silence, and he turned back toward the filly with something resembling total resolve. He stepped toward her and his cock bobbed with swollen weight, his hardness not fading in the slightest as he closed in on the trembling, sweating filly.

She darted toward the stall door this time, toward the onlookers as the stud reached out for her again. He lunged toward her with perfect timing and caught her arm in one of his big, powerful hands. He turned with her as she raced for the bars of the stall door and then flung her backward, her feet churning as she fought to keep her balance, crying out as she failed and tumbled to the sawdust covered floor.

She rolled over and bounded to her feet, sawdust clinging to her back and thighs as she kicked at him again, the sharp toe of her boot barely missing his thigh as the stud, seemingly enraged now, ran toward her. Her screams seemed fragile and weak as he gripped her arms and shook her, snarling and uttering loud, throat growls as he pushed her back toward the bench. He spun her around and forced her over the padded top of the bench, this time slapping her voluptuous rump hard, making the filly jump and squeal as she fell over the bench for a second time.

"Think he'll let her get away again?" a man asked of no one in particular as the filly pushed up and away from the bench.

The stud was ready for her this time, though, and his hands went to her shoulders as she came up, shoving her back down with cruel force. Winded by his blow the filly let out a strangled moan as he kicked her feet apart, her boots scuffing over the floor of the stall as he grabbed her waist and pinned her roughly against the bench. She kicked and thrashed but his hands were holding her waist with a vice like grip and he held his prize against the padded rail with cold confidence.

She was sobbing now, gasping with the effort of trying to keep the stud from mounting her. Her fight was futile, as the six in the hallway soon saw, and the stud once again bent his knees and pressed the swollen, purple head of his cock into her.

To be continued...