Illustrated by Chris Sawyer
Story & Illo's © 1998 by Kevin Kelm
(click an image for a full screen version)

It was late in the summer season that I first saw him. Inspecting the grounds, as the laborers toiled in the sun to build the latest annexes to the palace, I spotted him among them. I'm not sure what it was about him: his strong hooves, his broad, muscular back, or the quiet determination with which he went about his work, but he had something special, something alluring. I stood transfixed as his strong hands wielded a heavy hammer, chiseling smooth a rough surface of stone. With each swing his muscles flexed as shards of rock fled his blows.

I pointed to him, whispering to my attendants, and instantly among the workers there was rumor of my notice. I approached him to meet this handsome creature. He ceased his pounding and hastily brushed rock dust from his fine black fur, bowing deeply to me as the foreman prattled annoying about the project. The stallion scanned the ground with nervous glances as I admired him.

"I should like you to visit me in the palace today." I said.

He looked incredulously at me and stammered, "Wh... I... YES Sire."

As I left the grounds for my accommodations, I looked over my shoulder to see several laborers clustering about him, and all stood looking after me.

After tea, there was a quiet knock, and the door opened to reveal that magnificent beast. Despite his impressive stature and presence, he seemed as meek and timid as a foal. He stood in his peasant loincloth, his fur still damp from the sweat of his labors and mottled with stone dust. His large, rough form contrasted with the ornately carved doorway around him.

I smiled, and bade him to enter. He approached slowly, his hoof-clops echoing from the inlaid tile floor. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet my admiring gaze, 'til he stood before me. His ebony form slick with the sweat of his labors, his muscles tensing as he nervously shifted his weight, he finally mustered the will to break the silence, and I realized I'd been staring.

"Yes, Milord..? You... summoned me?"

"Yes." I said. "Yes I did. What is your name?"

"I am Bendonn, Sire. Bendonn of the Grasslands," he whickered.

I slid from the couch, spilling small pillows, to crouch on my knees. I motioned him to sit opposite me at the small table, and I called for some wine. "Sit, Bendonn. Be comfortable."

He sat, folding his legs under him, and looked to me with big, soft brown eyes. I smiled to him and toasted to his beauty. He whicker-giggled and looked away, smiling broadly, his wonderful chest puffing with pride.

We passed the afternoon with idle conversation and a great deal more wine, and he relaxed noticeably as we did. At length he admitted his surprise and pride with being singled out. He spoke of the envy of his comrades, and their ribbing as he was escorted away.

As the wine took its toll on him, he lolled back on the pillows, his back arched, his arms behind his head, and his fine silken chest stretched long. I found myself leaning closer and closer, 'til I was along his side. I dipped my muzzle low to his belly, and I filled my lungs with a deep breath of his scent, this laborer horse. I breathed of his belly fur, growing excited with his feral scent, a mix of dust and sweat, an aroma new and exciting compared to that of the perfumed fops normally frequenting the palace. I placed my palm to his abdomen and he trembled.

I drew him close in an embrace, quietly stroking his back to calm him. He relaxed some, a mix of wonder and fear evident on his muzzle as he breathed shallowly in his excitement.

I crouched over him, allowing my lips to graze along his chest, over the swell of his pecs, and to his well-muscled shoulders. I bit him gently there, eliciting a squeal of excitement-- perhaps fear-- from his throat. I kissed him lower, sliding my body over his, dropping my attentions down between his loins. His dusty, ragged loincloth could now only barely contain his stallionhood, and with a nuzzle, I revealed its prize.

His black sheath was slick with his stallion sweat, his balls lolled heavily on his thigh in his taut sac. I exhaled warmly on his emerging member, and-- very gently-- licked the end of his glans. Glancing upward, I could see him staring at me, watching me, with a mix of his excitement and his desire.

Our gazes locked, I dipped lower to kiss his glans, then took it into my mouth, laving it with my tongue as his penis began spilling free. Kissing down his sheath to his wonderful balls, I took them each in turn into my mouth to suckle slowly, savoring the tastes and smells of this wonderful creature. His head lolled back, deep throaty whickers welling up within him.

His member now stood at full mast, jutting handsomely upward, and I gently stroked it with my fingertips. His instincts began to take him as his hips bucked into my attentions.

Poised over him, I again kissed his glans, tasting that first sweet dollop of pre-cum. My voice a coarse whisper, I rasped, "You... you are magnificent, Bendonn. I saw you there, and I knew I must have you." And with that I took his member into my mouth.

He breathed deeply, his chest expanding as his glans slid into my throat, and a stallion squeal caught within him. I grasped his member low, squeezing it and stroking it, his fleshy sheath tugging and laxing as I worked his length. His whole body tensed and relaxed in its own rhythm as dollops of his musky pre-cum spilled forth to my tongue. I swallowed as I could, my mind clouding with the sensations of the moment as I pleasured this handsome stallion.

His mighty hands clutched at the pillows, his powerful forearms flexing with the effort, as this unexpected respite began to overtake his senses. I could feel his heavy testicles stirring between his thighs as his breath shallowed and his heartbeat thrumming in his penis quickened.

I swallowed him as deep as I dared, holding him still, and there was silence. I held him on that ragged edge for just a moment, then stroked his base hard and drew back, suckling at him as I pulled free.

Before I reached the end of his penis his whole body tensed, a wild whinny rang from his throat, and a great blast of his stallion semen blew my mouth full. I swallowed and swallowed, drinking his sweet cum eagerly as he bucked and pumped it forth.

Gradually his convulsions eased, and we both lay panting. His nostrils flared wide, his eyes staring half glazed at the frescoed ceiling, and he eased into a limp relaxation.

I cleaned his glistening member of every drop of seed, massaging his testicles as I reveled in his orgasm. Smiling, I admired his spent form for a long while before lying down along his side to doze.

Slowly he stirred from his daze, and I felt him assessing his surroundings. I sat up and smiled, offering him tea, which he accepted politely.

His bright innocence was very much a part of my attraction, as was his simple modesty; he whickered embarrassedly when he realized his loincloth still lay askew. I pondered him as he lay there so beautifully, envisioning him mine forever. He would make a fine companion, I decided.

"I know this overwhelms you, Bendonn." I said seriously. "I want to offer you a choice. You can go back to your life out there-- working on my palace-- or you can stay here within it."

I held my breath, afraid to look too hopeful, yet excited by the prospect. He blushed, or at least he seemed to blush, as he pondered his options.

I wondered if such an offer would change him, if he would lose his innocence, his eagerness. I wondered if he would agree out of affection or duty.

After a lengthy pause, he looked up at me with the soft brown eyes I grew to love, and he breathed words that made my heart skip.

"I..." He looked away.

"...will stay."

With a lengthy stay in the baths and an extended session with the clothier, Bendonn's stunning presence was all the greater. I had made for him handsome silks that draped his muscular form so pleasingly, and silver rings for his fingers and bands for his arms. His pantaloons concealed his stallionhood of course, a vest framed his tight abs and broad black chest, and a fine mesh of gold draped his poll. He strode proudly about in his finery, and seemed pleased his dress resembled mine save for the torc I wore on my head.

Still rough were his manners, so simple and honest and direct that their contrast with palatial conventions pleased me. I cast orders that no one make light of his ways before him or they'll answer to me, and as far as I know, none did.

We settled in to dine that evening, and he ate as if he would never again, his appetite unabated 'til the final course. Each new dish he greeted with such enthusiasm as I've never seen from the usual fare of guests, and I reveled in his discoveries as each new thing took his attention.

Retiring that evening brought its own excited pleasures, as we entered my bedchamber together. I led him by the hand, eager to be with him again. I sensed his hesitance, and only with quiet conversation as the oil burned low did he seem to relax.

There in the dim, flickering light, his bare form framed by the downy soft pillows of the bed, he seemed the most magnificent creation in the world. When at last the light danced and faded, when the room eased into a silent darkness, I moved to him, embracing him softly.

With my face atop his muscled chest, my arm around his taut belly, he nuzzled my hair, and stroked my arm. My own loins stirred, as I knew this must be heaven. I closed my eyes, remembering every detail of the moment.

His delicate touch stroked down my arm to my flank and he stroked my thigh. I moved closer to him as my own insistent urgency grew, and at once he took hold of my member. His fingers glided over it so gently, and my hips thrust into his touch.

Bendonn kissed my forehead, and rolled to be over me. We kissed, at first slowly, then more passionately as I tasted his adept equid lips, our tongues dancing.

I came by degree to notice the wide bell of his erection pressing to my belly as my hands explored his rippling back, the base of his tail, and his strong, rounded rump.

Bendonn lifted his tail, angled his hips, and reached back to take hold of my more-than-ready erection, now dripping with slick pre-cum. I felt my glans slide down his sheath, under the swell of his heavy sac, and into position under his tail.

He arched his back, and with a throaty whinny, worked me into himself in a few easy thrusts.

Gods! Buried deep in the warm flesh of such a stallion! I held him firm in a desperate embrace, pulling at his back as his tight warmth surrounded me, and a half-reflexive moan was all I could utter.

Bendonn lifted his torso, rising and falling upon my length as my hands explored his rippling chest, his taut sac pressing to me as he moved. I took hold of his erection with both hands, stroking him in rhythm with his undulations.

I can say now that with such a scene, I did not last long. My breath quickened, my legs locked, and beyond my control, I called to him in a whisper that grew to a guttural growl.

Waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I pumped my seed deep into the stallion, my stroking grip on his pre-cum soaked stallionhood growing fervent. He too lost his control, and with a shrill whinny, he clutched at my chest as his seed blew across it in long, pulsing streamers that wet my chin and throat. He collapsed to my chest, our members still pulsing together, his rump flexing so wonderfully around me as he blast his seed between our chests.

We lay like that for quiet some time, growing soft together, withdrawing together, and lolling sleepily together.

A quick dip in the pool cleansed us. We dried each other and returned to our bed to doze in each others arms.

He slept fitfully that night, and once I stirred to see him in the wan moonlight, gazing upward. Holding him close, reveling in his presence, I dropped back to a pleasant sleep at his side.

Weeks followed the days, and he became my ever-present companion. I insisted he be at my side at all functions. He had a bright mind; he quickly learned to challenge me-- and sometimes to best me-- at puzzles and games. He listened intently as I discussed matters of state with my advisors, he posited defensible arguments in debates of every nature, and he grew to emulate even the finest of palace cordialities. Even my viziers, at first dubious of our uncommon union, came to accept his presence at my side.

Still, I yearned to know of his life, of which he rarely spoke. So much of him was still hidden to me, but I felt sure that with time I could overcome it. He was a mason working on my palace; that much I knew. He was foaled of peasants in the Eastern Grasslands, a far-flung region of my lands, but more than that, he was hesitant to say. I did not pry-- all in good time.

I heaped the fineries upon him; more rings than he had fingers, more silks than he had cause to wear. I lavished attentions upon him, and yet something about him seemed increasingly distant, something sad. Pretending to sleep at night I sometimes watched him. He would gently rise from bed so as not to wake me, and stand at length by the window, staring quietly.

Once he slipped out, leaving me alone for almost an hour, then returned and slid back into bed at my side. I burned with curiosity to know what he must be thinking, but always in the light of day, he seemed cheerful and engaging, always cleverly dancing from topics about himself.

Then the night came it happened again; he slipped out of bed and stole away in the darkness. I followed him, though my guards at the gate were upset that I would leave without protection. Donning a peasant's cloak I set forth to catch up with him. I hurried along the market bazaar, lit at night with torches and buzzing with activity even at the late hour, and saw him as he approached a trader's cart.

I secreted myself and watched him sell one of his rings! The rings I had given him, my stallion! To a food merchant he gave the money, and away he strode with an armful of loaves and fruit.

I followed him again as he hiked purposefully back in the direction of the palace. But to my surprise, he did not follow the path to the front gate-- instead he entered the laborers' encampment!

Surrounded by the snores of drunken men and quiet conversations around firepits, I tailed my stallion as he made his way to a single tattered tent, and he slipped inside it.

My heart pounded as I approached it, keening to hear the slightest sounds, and I caught a spot of light through a small tear in the tent cloth. I eagerly spied through the hole. There he was, Bendonn, my stallion, on his knees at the bed of another stallion, locked in embrace.

I staggered back, and caught myself, my love for him turning to a sick fear. I collected myself and peered again through the hole. They were weeping. I could stand no more, and fled through the encampment back to my bedchambers.

I slept no more that night, save for feigning sleep as he returned just before the dawn.

I paced constantly the next day; Im sure he sensed something was wrong. My mind flashed rapidly between hurt, and anger, and hate-- a confusing mix of emotion that blinded me to all else.

Strangely, my mindset was less of anger at Bendonn, for loving another, than it was anger with this unknown lover-- someone I didnt even know. Why did he continue to see him? What could there be that I couldn't give him? As the day progressed, my mind fevered with notions of winning him back, of make him return to me.

I sent guards to ask around-- the stallionís name was Zuli.

As Bendonn and I dined that evening with visiting dignitaries, my guards were to march into the laborer encampment. As we socialized over tea, I knew they were ransacking Zuli's tent. As we retired to my bedchambers, they paraded him through the encampment in manacles. As I caressed Bendonn's velveted belly fervently trying to occupy my mind with his splendor and not the terrible events I had set in motion, the prison guards beat his lover. And as I nuzzled his stallionhood, I could not stop envisioning them tossing Zuli in the dank cell across the courtyard, bruised and sobbing.

As the guards later told it, Zuli then stood and looked to the grating overhead, through which he could see the stars. He called out in his anguish, a shrill stallion whinny piercing the night.

Lying back in my bedchamber, Bendonn froze as he heard it, recognizing the sound of his mate's cry. His body tensed. He startled me, calling out in return with his own alarmed whinny, then stared wildly at me, rife with the scent of fear.

My head sank to his chest, and I wept. I wept for the terrible thing I had done to his lover. I wept knowing he could never be truly mine, not in his heart and his soul. And I wept for separating them to begin with.

Bendonn seemed frozen in fear, not knowing what to do, and I suddenly knew the terrible burden I placed on him; that he feared my power at least as much as he appreciated my attentions.

I wept until I was spent. I pulled myself up and with a touch to his shoulder, I left him there.

Some time later I returned, half guiding and half supporting Zuli, his lover. I led him to Bendonn, who sprang from the window to embrace his poor stallion and help him to a couch. I was so ashamed I could not look at either one.

Bendonn surprised me, though. He turned and gave me the warmest, most heart-felt hug I had ever known from him. From that hug he pulled free, and without a word he helped Zuli to his hooves and guided him slowly to the door. I looked on as they left, their silhouettes in the light from the hall, their hooves ringing on the tiled floors, receding into the distance.

I sat heavily, and called for wine. I drank it, staring out into the night sky for hours.

For years after, I sometimes saw them together. In the marketplace, at public events, even, years later, at my own betrothal ceremony-- always hand-in-hand, always in love.

I often sent small gifts, the custom at each new year's time. Simple gifts, of clothes, of rings-- always in pairs, always matching, as they so perfectly matched each other. I never knew whether they ever totally forgave me, but they seemed happy together. That was enough.

-- End.

Copyright © 1998 by Kevin Kelm. DO NOT DISTRIBUTE.