The Lost Prince--A Ponygirl Epic

 

 

 

                   CHAPTER EIGHTEEN—AWAKENING

 

Daka was a wreck.

Ever since that first moment when the assayan whispered in his ear and touched him, his brain had been tumbling.  He couldn’t think clearly, and could barely talk.  He had trouble just watering the mounts.

It wasn’t because the woman had touched him there.  He’d been touched there before, most recently by Nina prior to his ringing.  It was why she was touching him.  What she’d said, in his ear . . . he shivered again just thinking about it.

Daka wasn’t that sheltered.  He’d seen couples having sex numerous times, travelers doing what they could to liven up their trip through the Wash.  Men with women, most often women with women, twice men with men.  But it had never meant anything to him, being no more interesting than watching ponies run in circles.  Frisky mounts had tried to entice him, and there’d been that incident with the wetnurses, but he’d just never had any interest.  Until now.

Whether it was the secret, twisted things the assayan had whispered in his ear, or her touch on his flesh, he didn’t know.  But ever since she’d left the room all Daka could think about was mounting a woman.

All night visions of the assayan danced through his brain.  Her words echoed in his head and he imagined her nude, beckoning to him, offering her ripe backside to his organ.  His organ, meanwhile, throbbed and pulsed all night against the rings, refusing to subside.  He wanted to touch himself, but his Mistress was just across the room, sleeping.  He was afraid of what she might do if she found him touching himself—he had a suspicion that was why she’d had him ringed.

After a while, he became so enraged with lust he began fantasizing about his Mistress and what was under her robes.  But that didn’t last too long—she was his owner, and as such had the power of life and death over him.  It was hard to fantasize about mounting such a woman.

He finally got a few fitful hours of sleep, awaking not rested at all.  Daka hoped that the long hours of work ahead of him in the stables would keep his mind off of sex.  However, to his horror, he found himself staring at the ponies.  Their shapely thighs and muscular buttocks filled his thoughts.  No longer were they just draught animals, pieces of farm equipment as they had been to him his whole life.  No, as he fed and watered the ponies this morn he stroked their flanks, and thighs, and fantasized about them in a way that was no different than how he’d fantasized about the assayan or his Mistress.  It was as if a blindfold had been pulled from his eyes, and it was all he could do to control himself as he maneuvered the nearly two dozen ponies into position to eat and drink.  He didn’t see them as animals anymore, as different from his Mistress as the moon was from a rock on the road, he saw them, for the first time, as females.  Beautiful, athletic females, trained to serve, wearing nothing but their tight leathyrs.  How many times had he pushed away frisky ponies trying to grind their centers against him?  Hundreds, that’s how many, perhaps thousands.  After short runs getting mounted was just about all that ponies wanted, and yet he’d never been interested.

Until today, when he was physically unable because his Mistress had ringed his cock down.

Daka throbbed all day, through every chore, unable to tear his eyes away from the flesh of whatever pony he was closest to.  When Uma, sometime after midday, informed him the Ladies would be leaving tomorrow and therefore the ponies wouldn’t need their sweet spots massaged, he nearly cried.  Only the big bellied pony going into labor was distraction enough.  He was at once fascinated and repulsed by the miracle of birth, although the repulsion didn’t happen until the midwife broke the bag of waters and the pony began to bleed a little.  But still he couldn’t tear himself away, not until the amazingly tiny baby squirted right out of her and began crying in the midwife’s arms.  He wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t just seen it himself.

The midwife cleaned the baby and then wrapped it in a blanket and handed it to the wetnurse, whose massive sagging teats were already streaming milk.  The infant girl immediately clamped her mouth on one of the big dark nipples, and Daka stared until the wetnurse walked out of sight, heading toward the nursery.

“It’s a nice healthy girl,” the midwife told the pony.  “You should be proud.”  She examined her for any unseen tears and wiped her clean, then studied the disgusting mass that had followed the baby out.  Daka was informed it was the placenta, but the word meant nothing to him.

“Come,” Lady Koho called to him for the third time, and finally he heard her.  They passed Uma whipping Ranyo’s bare cheeks with a wide belt.  Daka didn’t know what his crime had been, but Uma was working him over with a vengeance.  Ranyo, for his part, was crying with each blow.  Daka was embarrassed for him.

He followed his Mistress up to the room and ate some food she’d had brought for him.  She sat and watched him eat, which made him nervous, but he said nothing and kept his eyes downcast.  While she ate she informed him they’d be leaving in the morning, heading north.  She didn’t say where they were going, and while she did say they wouldn’t be traveling alone she didn’t tell him who their companions would be.  Orr had been the same way, and Daka had long ago learned to curb his curiosity.  Asking questions usually only led to a rebuke.

Lady Koho told him to take another bath, as there would be no time in the morning, and dismissed the hovering handmaiden for the night.  Daka held out hope the assayan would come again, and kept glancing toward the door, but it was not to be.

After an uncomfortable bath, with his Mistress sitting beside the tub, staring at him oddly, she bade him dress in a provided robe and go to sleep on the futon as they would have an early start.

Lady Koho, for her part, laid on her own futon and closed her eyes, but sleep was not easy in coming.  The vision of Daka’s curved organ, dripping with bathwater, came unbidden into her mind, and would not leave.  Even as she felt her body responding she tried to think of other things, crop failures, droughts, stillborn babies.

“Mistress?”

She jerked and opened her eyes.  Daka was standing over her, a frown on his face.  She’d been on the edge of sleep, finally, when he spoke.

“Yes?” she said crossly.

“We shouldn’t sleep here,” he told her.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t sleep here, it’s not safe.”

“What are you talking about?  What isn’t safe?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is we’re in danger in this room.”

Lady Koho sat up, blinking, and looked around the room.  All was as it was before.  Through the slatted blinds covering the window she could see it was dark, but the hour was not yet late.  Daka peered at her with a concerned, yet confused look on his face.  He didn’t know why he felt the way he did, but he was sure down to his bones that they were in danger if they stayed in the room.

Lady Koho stood and walked over to the window.  They were three floors up, and in as safe a spot as could be found on the premises.  They were almost directly over the main entrance to the house, which was guarded day and night.  Not that the exterior of the structure could be climbed anyway; the master who had built the house had left its face smooth and seamless. 

She shut the blinds and turned to her worried charge.  “Why do you say this?”

“I don’t know, Mistress,” he admitted.  “But I know in my heart it is true.”

Had he been but a simple piece of property, and this his first warning, she would have ignored it. But he might be the One, and she could not forget his warning on the road in.  Without it, the Berserker-Shrike would have killed at least one of them, probably both, as well as destroyed the carriage.

The decision was not a difficult one to make.

“Be silent,” she commanded him, and moved past him to the door.  She opened it silently, and peered into the corridor.  For the moment it was empty, save for a statua across the hall, bent double and bound wrists to ankles.  Her eyes were closed, and she appeared asleep, although most statua remained in a kind of trance even when awake.  Her fat candle had burned down almost to the black iron base anchored in her rectum, which someone would be by soon to change it.  Now was the time.

Lady Koho motioned Daka forward and closed the door when he was beside her in the hallway.  She put a finger to her lips and gestured for him to follow her.  Very quickly she moved down the corridor, taking care to be absolutely silent.  At the corner she peered around, then was off again.  Daka had to hurry to keep up.

Near the end of the hall his Mistress stopped and quietly knocked on a door.  As they waited, Daka heard no sound, uyet the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“Yes?” a woman said guardedly.

“It’s Koho-Sen,” his Mistress murmured to the crack.

There was a pause, then the door slid open.  Daka saw a plain-faced Lady in brown robes, looking at them curiously.  She was flanked by two of the largest dogs he’d ever seen, both black as midnight.  They stared at him.

“My room is not safe tonight,” Lady Koho said.  “I cannot explain.”

Lady Roba raised her eyebrows, then looked at Daka.  A thoughtful look appeared.

“You do not need to.  Please, come inside, quickly.”  She closed and locked the door behind them, and the two dogs relaxed.

“However,” Lady Roba murmured softly to Koho-Sen, “we have a bit of a conundrum.”  Past her the Lady Koho saw they weren’t alone.  Lady Roba’s handmaiden stood against the wall, out of the way, and an assayan novice, half out of her white robes, reclined on a futon.  Both stared at the company with interest.

“If either leaves tonight, your location could become known.”

“Then you must keep them until the morning,” Lady Koho said.  She nodded at the novice, who was about Daka’s age.  She was slender as a reed, pale and delicate.  Her face was beautiful, and it was obvious she knew not the meaning of guile, or deceit.

“Yes, well.”  Lady Roba moved toward the novice, who looked up at her expectantly.

“The Lady Lena’s instructor’s tell me that of all their students, past and present, Genoise here is unique.  Not only, so they say, does she have apparently limitless enthusiasm and a boundless appetite, but as far as they can tell she has no natural inhibitions.”

“Isn’t that to be expected in assayan?” Lady Koho asked, moving to a chair.  She directed Daka to the corner, where he sat down.

“A trained assayan would never betray any inhibitions,” Lady Roba admitted, cupping the novice’s chin in her palm and smiling down at her.  “But a person without any inhibitions is a rare thing.  I am known throughout the kingdom for my eccentricities, and am thought to have no shame or inhibitions, but I assure you I have my limits, as I’m sure you do, Koho-Sen.  Hard to find, perhaps, or trigger, but they are there.  The finest assayan instructors in the kingdom do not seem to be able to find such boundaries with this young thing,” she said, looking down at the novice.

“I was looking for someone to help in my house,” Lady Roba continued.  She motioned for Genoise to stand up.  The robe fell around her feet, and she stepped out of it.  Her small breasts were high and round, her nude body narrow and nearly as white as milk.  She had no gag, and her mouth now opened slightly.  She was breathing harder, perhaps with excitement.  She looked from Lady Roba to Lady Koho to Daka, and back.

“Genoise was recommended, as I said I would prefer an assayan not ingrained to a certain clan lifestyle.”  She motioned the girl back down onto the futon.  “So that the lifestyle of my clan was not such a shock to her.  I was thinking of a fully trained assaya, however, not a novice, although she has nearly completed her training.”  Genoise leaned back on the futon in a practiced pose, displaying all of her charms.  “My clan is far from Lady Lena’s, in more ways than just miles.”

Lady Roba sat reclined in a large chair, her dogs sitting to either side.  She rested her hands on their backs, and smiled at Genoise.  “Are you wet?” she asked her.

“Yes, M’Lady, I am curious and excited to be here, but I am ever wet.”  She stroked the outside of her hip.  She lay on one side, her knee drawn up.

“And do you really have no inhibitions, as your instructors say?”

Genoise tilted her head.  “I know I’ve always been eager to try everything they’ve taught us, and have never found anything I didn’t enjoy.”

“Never?”

“No M’Lady.”

“Good.”  Lady Roba lifted her hands off her pets and the dogs rose and moved toward Genoise.  Her mouth opened in surprise, and she looked from Lady Roba to Lady Koho to see if this was some sort of trick.

The dogs stopped beside the futon, and one lowered his head to sniff the small slit between Genoise’s thighs.  Apparently he liked what he smelled, for he began licking her folds, with a tongue as wide as her palm.

The novice started at the first lick, then began giggling.  She watched with interest as both the dogs’ organs began to grow beneath their bellies.  They were bright red and massive, with a bulging knot at the base.

“I had heard stories, but Lady Lena has no dogs,” Genoise nearly whispered.  “Oh, you’re magnificent, you two,” she breathed in wonder.  Her hand reached down to the pet the head still furiously working between her legs.  “Come here, sit down,” she said to the other animal, patting the edge of the futon near her head.  The second dog hopped onto the futon where there was just enough room for it and obediently lowered its hindquarters to the cushion.  Genoise’s head disappeared from view as she buried it between the dog’s legs, and her own thighs widened further.  Watching from the chair, Lady Roba nodded, and began to undo her robe.

 

 

S’Leah stepped out of the deep tub and finished drying off.  She was alone in her quarters, having dismissed the handmaiden and locked the door.  The Princess’ aide would be returning soon, as soon as she returned the pets to their places, wherever that was, so her time was limited.  She removed the gray rectangle from her case and sat crosslegged on the polished wood floor.  The wood was cool after the hot bath, and felt good on her male parts—her capacity was greater than most, if not all, and yet the Princess was doing her best to test her limits.  It sounded as if the party tonight would see her entering quite a few more holes.

S’Leah took a deep breath, calmed herself, then touched the gray rectangle.  There was nothing for a long while, then the swirling colors finally appeared and coalesced into the face of her benefactor.  She looked tired and worn, her purple robes, for once, not immaculate and wrinkle free.

“Yes my child, I’m glad to see your face.  I’m hoping you call with good news.”

“My Lady, are you well?  You seem . . . tired.”

“I have worries I did not have before, but that is not your concern.  Do not let my worries distract you.  Now tell me—what has happened since last we spoke?  Have you been successful?”

“Yes.  I am where you hoped I could get, and am in some favor.”

“Then this person has found you interesting?” she said with a small curling smile.

“Sufficiently.  What am I to do now?”

“How much time might you have there?”

“At least until the day after tomorrow, without becoming a nuisance.”

“Really?  That is good.  Here is what you must do.  Kill her.  If possible, blame it on another, or conceal the deed and delay the outcry, but that is what you must do.”

“Are you sure, M’lady?”  It was by no means the first time she’d been asked to kill, but never had the target been of the bloodline, much less a Princess and fourteenth from the throne. 

“If you cannot do it, tell me now.  This is important, but if you feel you can’t succeed, and escape, I need to know now.”

“I can do it.  But it may take several days before I have an opportunity.”

“My faith has never wavered.  Stay true.”

“I am yours, My Lady.”

S’Leah was putting on the red silk robe when the aide returned and knocked on the door.  The Princess had told her the robe was all that would be required for the party, and so that was all she wore, although she kept her toe boots on.

For some reason the knock on her door enraged her.  S’Leah stomped across the room and threw back the bolt.  Why she was furious she didn’t know, but the blood was in her eyes as she flung wide the door.

The Princess’ aide stood in the hallway.  The pets were back in their places, and now, primped and ready for the party, the aide had come for S’Leah.

S’Leah stared at the aide’s pretty, painted face, and her bright red lips wrapped around a matching rubber ballgag.  The aide was totally nude but for high-heeled shoes, and displayed a slender, pale body.  S’Leah’s eyes trailed over the small, bare breasts and their dusty pink nipples, down the aide’s stomach, and—

For a few seconds S’Leah’s eyes didn’t comprehend what they were seeing.  At first she thought the aide sported horribly distended and sagging labia, hanging straight down from her smooth mound.  Then she realized the aide wasn’t a woman.  She wasn’t even a man.  The aide was a stuffed gelding, sporting a tiny penis which was inserted, through a slit, into his empty scrotum.  Only the very base of his penis was visible, the rest was inside the flesh bag that had once held his stones.

With a strangled cry S’Leah grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the room.  The aide landed on hands and knees, and before he’d recovered, S’Leah, shed of her robe, was on him.  The fury now had a focus, and S’Leah hated being deceived, even though no one had told her the aide was a woman.  She’d just assumed, because of the breasts and the soft, shapely buttocks.  Which she now grasped fiercely with her fingers and spread.  S’Leah’s cock was a bar of iron she stabbed deep into the aide, who squealed with the first thrust.  However, after just a few seconds, the aide was already pushing himself back onto her shaft eagerly, even though she was being rougher with him than she’d been with anyone in years.

S’Leah jerked out of him in disgust and punched him in the side.  The aide grunted and rolled onto his back.  S’Leah deftly turned around and straddled his hips, facing his feet.  Before her his small cock was hard inside his sack, stretching it out like a fleshy sock.  She took hold of the bottom of his bag and roughly pulled his shaft out into the open air.  Bending it back under her, out of the way, she dug both her thumbs into the slit in his bag and opened it up.  The aide squealed again but knew better than to struggle.

S’Leah shoved her hard cock into his welcoming sheath, finding it slick and cooler than his backside had been.  His stretchy flesh bag covered her glans and half her shaft, which was much larger than his boyish organ.

S’Leah leaned forward and took his ankles in both her hands in an iron grip.  She kept his legs together and flat on the floor as she began to pump against him, harder and harder, fast and rough.  The aide squealed and put his hands on her ass, signaling her that she was being too rough, but S’Leah ignored the signals.  She painfully stretched his scrotum with each thrust.

S’Leah was out of her mind with fury and lust, thrusting against him like a dog in heat, mindlessly.  She did not notice that after a few minutes the aide stopped protesting.  It was not too much later, when she was getting close, that he slid two fingers into her bulging anus.

With a roaring cry S’Leah came, bucking and spurting into him, even as she felt him put a thumb inside her tight vagina.  Shrieking and sweating, she hunched and slithered atop him, filling his bag with seed, her vaginal walls pulsing around his thumb.  The aide arched up behind her in ecstasy, free hand furiously squeezing his own puffy nipples.

As her passionate rage finally subsided S’Leah lay along the aide’s legs, panting.  After a minute she collected herself and sat up.  He gently pulled his fingers from her anus, but the thumb stayed in place.  Even when she leaned back to make his finger pop out, still it stayed in her.  It was only when she reached down between her legs under her scrotum to dislodge his digit that she discovered it was his penis, and had slipped into her during her frantic bucking.

S’Leah gently removed herself from the aide.  His bag had turned out to be quite elastic, and had engulfed her entire shaft before she was through.  His small organ glistened with her juices—and his, she realized.  He’d climaxed as well.  She couldn’t remember the last time a man had climaxed inside her vagina—perhaps not since she’d been a pony, although she wasn’t sure if this one counted as a man.  His cock was still ramrod stiff, and stood just under four inches tall.

S’Leah felt the wetness between her legs and as the aide lay there, arms above his head, breasts glossy with sweat, S’Leah, after years of eating seed in her search for the One, reached between her legs and stuck a finger into herself.  She licked her finger and stood there, conflicted.  As if she hadn’t degraded herself enough with this one, not even a real man.  As she swallowed the salty fluid she put her hands on her hips and looked down at her sweaty body, and at his.  And she’d just gotten out of the bathtub.  What the hell was she thinking?