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Subject: Title story: "Horse" Author: Bestial 65925432
From: xHunter <ryzij@poczta.fm>
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Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2006 04:57:30 +0000
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I got a call Wednesday afternoon. My brother was going into the hospital for
tests (He has Diabetes). He asked me if I could come out and watch the place for
a while. Could I watch The Place?! The neighbor's raised Arabians. You're damned
right I would! "Anything for my brother," I said, trying to keep the excitement
out of my voice. When I got there, it was better than I hoped. The neighbor's
had taken two of their horses to a show, and would not be back for a week. I
told him not to worry, and after I got him packed and off, I relaxed a bit. I
figured it was going to be a wonderful couple of days, but I didn't know that
fate had decided to throw a joker at me. I was planning my first raid on the
animals, when I heard some commotion coming from the stable. A lot of commotion.
Larry had warned me that some punk kid had been sneaking around here. Well,
whoever it was, they were in for a big surprise! I slipped out quietly, and went
across the orchard, down the fields, and down to the barn. As I made my way to
the corral, I saw somebody yelling, and jumping up and down, and laughing. The
horses were running around in circles, fear in their eyes. There is nothing that
makes me madder than somebody torturing an animal, for no better reason than to
have fun. If you want to have fun at somebody else's expense, get yourself a
slave. He was a young man, fairly well built, with jeans and a shirt. Not too
bad looking. "You shouldn't do that. It frightens the animals," I said. He
whirled, and stared at me. "What the fuck do you want?" "Just wanted to know who
was down here, and what they were doing..." He reminded me of a weasel. Thin,
lithe, and nasty. "Well, you can just fuck off, Bastard!" "I do not think so," I
replied. I have never understood why people mistake politeness for weakness.
"Well, Muther Fucker, I'm just gonna hafta cut ya!" He grinned, and pulled a
switchblade out of his back pocket. Yep, this kid had an attitude problem. And
Master Jack knew how to take care of such problems. I waited until he got close
enough, then made a move with my left hand. He swung at it, and was rewarded by
my size thirteen boot slamming into his crotch. He looked like he wanted to puke
his balls up. I took his "toy" away from him, and grabbing a handful of hair,
dragged him over to a fencepost. I slapped him, hard. "You awake, Stupid?" He
opened his eyes, and stared at me. Both hands were still holding his groin.
"That was just a love-tap." I stuck the blade into the wood, and snapped it off
half-way. "You give me any problems, that will be your neck." I threw the handle
into a nearby pond, and grinned at my new possession. It had been way too
long... That's when he decided to take a swing at me. I dropped his hair,
grabbed his fist, and started squeezing. Five years as a woodcutter, and another
6 years as a maintenance man, gave me a grip like an steel vise. I waited until
I felt his joints pop, before I let go. "Owwww! You broke my fuckin' Hand!" I
gripped his neck, and pulled him to his feet. A lead rope sat coiled on the
post. I grabbed his arms, and tied them behind his back in the "Angel-Wing"
position, Wrists crossed, and pulled up tightly against the back, palms pointing
up. I then slammed him into the post, and knocked his legs out, so he sat down,
hard. I slipped a loop around his neck, and another around the post. "You
haven't shaved in a while." I grinned again, and pulled my seven inch sai out of
it's sheath. I put against his dirty face, and pushing his chin back with one
hand, slid it in one, continuous motion across his jaw. Then, I did the same to
the other side. There were a few nicks, but I wasn't interested in how he felt.
The look of sheer terror in his eyes was very enjoyable, however. "I'll be back
in a moment." Cleaning the blade on his shirt, I stepped through the rail fence,
and slowly, both hands in sight, moved towards the big animal, inside. He stood,
sides heaving, still fearful, but waiting. I talked quietly, and soothingly to
him. He shied away, when I tried to grab his halter, but allowed me to touch his
shoulder. He was magnificent, all black, and muscular. I had trouble breathing,
I was so filled with lust. I gently rubbed his back, and haunches, slowly moving
to his belly. Rub an animal's belly, and he is yours. He snorted, but moved his
hind-leg, when I touched his sheath. I stroked it, feeling the outline of his
huge cock. He snorted again, when I moved back and found a pair of orange-sized
testicles, hanging down at least three inches. I took one in my hand, and
ducking under his leg, licked on it. It tasted like dust, and hay, and sweat. I
opened my mouth, and kneeling, sucked on it. The stallion grunted, moving his
legs apart. The ball swelled in my mouth, while I rotated it around with my
tongue. Reluctantly, I let it slide out into my hand, and lustily attacked the
other one in the same manner. When both testicles were thoroughly coated with
spit, I played with them, and rubbed his sheath ...
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