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Luka had always known he preferred males. And being sent to a Gelding Academy, where he was surrounded by horny young men his own age had done little to change his mind. Had only refined it, in fact, when he realized that he specifically liked stallions. Big, muscular, shaggy stallions with thick musk and rough untempered instincts… Nothing like the genteel, cultured, retiring gentlecolts he and his cohort were all being trained to be.
Instead of working on the fine arts and writing sonnets to potential suitors, Luka made use of the fact that he’d nearly tested out of the Academy and into the stallion track. He worked on his body, studied history and texts on war, and applied to test into the Officers Academy straight after graduation.
He succeeded.
He was surrounded by geldings much older than him, and mares too, being it was a co-ed school. They rarely saw the stallions some of them would be commanding, and for a while Luka actually forgot about the sexual fantasies of his teen years. He was interested in military history and tactics, and wanted to be a good officer. Perfectly acceptable career, despite the disappointment from his parents. And the realm wasn’t at war so it would mostly be parades, wargames, and border patrol.
As a gelding, he was more likely to be assigned to a stallion unit; the brutes tended to be distracted by mare officers more than they obeyed them.
He’s assigned to the 31st platoon, the Collier Blacks. A division with history, stable from long tradition and longstanding veterans. Normal for a young, first-time Captain.
The Colliers come with the Sergeant. Merryweather.
Merry by name and Merry by nature. A stallion, but well-mannered in a blunt, gruff way. Not afraid to stomp his hooves and nip the men back into line. A long, well-spoken military record. Protective. Broad. Shaggy. Masculine…
Luka’s teen fantasies had reared up out of nowhere and he’d fought to stop his cock slipping from it’s sheath the first time Merryweather had stood beside him, flanks almost touching. The thick stallion musk in his scent like a drug.
While Luka got used to it up to the point that he no longer dropped his cock at every interaction, he still used a rutting log a lot, and used a dildo mounted on the wall while he moaned the Sergeant’s name.
Terribly, horribly inappropriate. Stallion or no, Merryweather was under his command and asking him anything would be incredibly abusive. He just can to content himself with imagining Merryweather breaking from his leather harness and forcibly mounting him, pounding his tight asshole…
Then comes the special parade. Officers only, meant to show off the unmated geldings and exceptional stallions to the close-knit crowd of guests of nobility. The geldings as marriage prospects, the stallions as advertisements for studding.
Both Luka and Merryweather will be on display today. They’re just waiting in their stalls, which are side by side, for a mare attendant to come and tack them up.
Luka shifted nervously in his stall, waiting; arms in long leather gloves crossed and fastened at the wrist behind his back, a bridle waited on a hook to be placed on him, along with a wide blindfold-a measure of trust and obedience in the mare officers that would be commanding them to show them all off to their visitors. It was utterly erotic.
Merryweather, in contrast, was still. Already partially tacked, arms behind his back in a similar but more encompassing leather sleeve. A black leather harness cinched his chest, more to accentuate his bare, oiled up chest than anything else. His mane and tail were already short, unlike Luka’s which were stitched up into precise knots and his tail wrapped into a bob.
"You should relax, Captain." He mutters with his eyes shut, "Getting tense will make the rest harder on you."
"I'm trying I swear" He replies, shifting a bit, "There's just...there's a lot of people here today."
"Hmm, it does seem like a bigger showing than usual sir," Merryweather says, tilting his head, lifting a brow, "What's wrong Captain?” His tone lilting with a gentle jest. “Not looking forward to lovely mares and geldings complimenting you?"
"Don't even joke" Luka huffs and nickers, "Humor doesn't suit you." In truth, he doesn't entirely mind the concept, it's just that he would prefer only one set of hands on him, and those belong to the stallion beside him.
“Sorry sir, just trying to lighten the mood.”
Before Luka can reassure Merryweather, someone comes to prepare him.
As an ungelded stallion and therefore 'more dangerous', his tack is far heavier and more restrictive.
A small tasseled rug is laid over his back instead of a blanket. A heavy weighted saddle, studded with heavy brasses, strapped on. A modified crupper strap going under his tail and forcing it up, an odd wide strap dangling from it.
The saddle also links to a heavy yoke being placed over his shoulders. Unlike the symbolic flower wreaths used in marriage, it's heavy, wooden, painted black. Merryweather’s leather arm sleeve is fastened securely to it.
Then, the bridle, black over the red silk of the blindfold. A true bridle, not a halter. The brass bit is too thick for him to properly close his mouth around it, and the corners have long straps that link to small rings on his yoke. Keeping his head from turning side to side. The straps of the bridle itself are also different. Not just the usual cheek straps, but a thick forehead strap that goes over his head to back. On it, between his brows, is the brass stamp of the military. Who owns him.
Merryweather bears all of it with stoic patience. Even when the mare takes that last, odd strap on his crupper. Grabs his balls and hefts them up, the strap a wide padded sling that holds them up and out and back and clips back onto the crupper. Presenting his balls to any passers by, shameless objectification of his... virility...
Luka can't look away from those bulging balls, the dark skin twitching as they jiggle and spill over the padded strap like a whore’s breasts... He forces himself to look away, his mouth dry. "Is he okay? That all looks... really constricting and heavy..." "Nah," the mare says, slapping his flank where his military number was branded. Merryweather barely twitches. "They get tacked up like this in the military schools, weight training and keeping them obedient all in one."
"Oh..." He says, glancing away. He only knew what the officers' school was like. Merryweather must have spent his entire life used to such things, becoming indifferent as a result. Luka had always admired his ability to keep calm but this display twists that and makes it...lewd.
"Lots of hands everywhere, just a safety thing,” the mare continues. “You guys have it better than the brutes that get shown off."
Merryweather nickers around the bit and gestures with his head to the main gates. "Ah, sorry Sarge, we'll get moving" The mare says, straightening her back to present him better when they leave.
As they leave, Luka is offered a view of Merryweather's back. Strong muscles flexing from his restraints, coat shiny with care. His gaze falls lower to where his balls have been tucked and shifts on his hooves, willing his mind not to focus on it any more.
Luka tries to imitate that same patience, his own experiences getting ready for balls helping him get through his own tacking. As a gelding, it's much lighter. No saddle, just his dress blanket. To match his dress jacket, unlike Merryweather’s bare chest...
His halter is thinner, a simple strap over his nose and chin, and across his cheeks to buckle behind his head. The only thing that makes it unique from his usual uniform halter is the brass stamp of his military rank on each cheek strap.
A thick leather collar keeps his neck straight, chin up. Attached to it is a thin rod on fine slender chains. It's placed in his mouth and he takes the honour bit between his teeth. He could let it drop from his mouth at any time, but that's the point; he should have the self control to hold it the whole time.
The blindfold is not truly blinding; a fine mesh that looks thick from the outside but only blurs things into indistinct shapes if they're more than a couple of feet away. The mare tugs on the reins attached to his bit and he follows, stepping carefully.
"I'll do my best to show off your good sides sir" The mare guiding him states, giggling behind her hand, "Though you only have good sides honestly." She's being nice, maybe even trying to calm his nerves. He replies only with a nod of his head. The show must go on.
The sunlight would have blinded him for a moment when they stepped out but his blindfold helps with that. In the distance he can see-and hear-other officers being led through routines: trotting, cantoring, prancing in place, bowing low on the forelegs and more. Above it all he can hear the visitors' conversations. Most are mares, some he thinks are dames, but there are some geldings in attendance too. He focuses on the bit in his mouth and mare leading him.
'Focus on your posture Luka, back straight.' This was the easy part after all. Once they were done being shown they would let to another showing hall, so they could be inspected further, and closer, by the visitors…
Technically, in the show hall, Merryweather should have been placed near the grunts and brutes. But his calm demeanour and long honourable service sees him placed near the gelding officers. Namely, opposite Luka.
Each set of rails has a forward bar at the front, about head height, for the males to rear up on their hind legs and stand, exposing themselves for the viewing pleasure of the browsing mares.
Luka had initially been glad that he wouldn't be in a position to have to stare at Merryweather’s balls... But in the hall, he has his blindfold removed, and when the kept-blinded Merryweather is instructed to rear up he gets a full view of his sheath and the impressive cock that drops from it. Sheathed in a condom for propriety of course, but still...
Luka tells himself that his own cock dropping out is from his own admirers asking him to show off.
It's all...overwhelming.
There are hands upon him, gliding along the length of his body and flanks, appraising his strength-he hears all his admirers say as much-while they gush over his patterned coat and pedigree. A dame is running her hand along his fetlocks. Another is touching the small of his back.
As a gelding he can reply to some answers head nods or shakes if they want to speak to him, but for now, they are all far more interested in exploring him. Still, his gaze wanders back to Merryweather.
If his Sergeant is struggling, he shows no sign of it. Head held high as he’s surrounded by far more and touched even greater.
One mare trots behind him, fondling his balls; they are nearly bigger than her hand closed! Another leans down and- good heavens -drags her tongue over the tip of his cock! Merryweather doesn't make a sound.
Luka has to force his gaze away, shutting his eyes, biting down on his bit. He can feel his cock dropping further out as he shifts some, a few mares giggling and gasping at the sight. He tries to push himself mentally away from it all, ignore all the hands...or imagine those hands belonging only to one other...Merryweather touching his shoulder after a good spar, a pat on the flank as he approaches. His hand drifting down…
Someone's hand pets his gelding brand at just the wrong- or right -moment. He moans, his cock blurting precum into his own condom. Giggles and admiring murmurs fill his ears in a buzz, but his mind is far away. Imagining Merryweather’s hand on his scar, on his cock. Calloused fingers instead of dainty silk gloves....
No, no! He needs to stay alert, not let these thoughts consume him!
He opens his eyes only to be met with the sight of a gelding stroking Merryweather’s cock, and slams them shut again. I wish that were me, he thinks with feverish intensity.
Trying to focus elsewhere, he instead overhears snippets of conversation. About Merryweather.
“Just look at that fine black coat, those darling white socks! I wouldn’t mind having a foal like that…”
“They say military stallions have the best stamina, think that applies to the bedroom?”
“Oh he could plough my field anytime…”
He knows there's truth in those words. Has never seen Merryweather grow tired even after the longest sparring sessions, taking on opponent after opponent until an entire squad was exhausted.
But he can't help but join in imagining Merryweather's stamina elsewhere. Pinning him, fucking him until he was spilling with his cum...
Hands return to gently stroking his cock, and Luka thinks he's doomed.
At least...at least he's not the only officer struggling to keep composure. Not the only one making muffled moans, sweating and flagging their tails as they hold as still as possible.
Someone further down the row cums with a shrill whinny, condom dipping a little as it catches the mess of gelding slick.
Luka is still staring at those bulging stallion balls, wondering if the condom would even be enough to contain a single load…
He watches Merryweather hold still despite the hands intent on stroking him off- both hands used at once, strong movements.
Luka’s nose is filled with the scent of pleased and needy mares, and geldings. He doesn't doubt that his own scent has joined in as well.
His eyes go wide as a mare takes an offered disposable glove from a servant and accepts a bit of lube before she begins to tease Merryweather’s asshole. Gods, he wished it was him getting fingered and by Merryweather...
Luka bit down again on his honor bit as a gelding slips closer, rearing up a bit to whisper in his ear. "I wonder what kind of naughty Captain you must be to tolerate being around such big stallions. Do you help…maintenance their cocks?”
Oh goddess he wished... He can only answer with a moan.
Merryweather grunts, his first audible sound of the event, as the mare slips two fingers into his ass.
Luka forces himself to focus on the gelding beside him, unbuttoning his dress jacket and the shirt underneath...
The first sound Merryweather made remains his only sound as Luka watches the mare's fingers thrust in and out slowly, spreading some as well. His own tail lifts as he gasps, a new mare caresses his academy brand, speaking highly of his school and it's history. Goddess, he wished it was Merryweather's fingers there, that he was the one being fingered as well.
His eyes go wide as a mare slips under the bars of Merryweather's pen and bumps her flank against his groin with a giggle.
Murmurs, some disapproving, some in awe. She rubs her pussy against his cock, his thick shaft sandwiched between her vulva lips.
Luka twitches as the gelding whispering in his ear presses fingers into his ass as well. "I'm surprised you're still so tight, given how needy you are..."
He pants, watching Merryweather’s cock hump that mare’s pussy, feeling the fingers working his ass and wishing they were one and the same.
A handler comes over to scold the mare and lead her away; attempting coitus was inappropriate, especially so since she hadn’t gained permission to have his seed. The condom on Merryweather’s cock is shiny with her slick, and bulging with precum at the tip. Wobbling like a balloon, practically weighing down his cock...
The gelding fingering his ass removes them, just as he's on the edge. Tables with refreshments are being laid outside, ending the show portion. "This was fun, Captain Forscythe, thank you for your time." The admirers slowly filter out, leaving pent up stallions and geldings in their bindings.
He feels light-headed, blood rushing from his head to his cock and back at a whiplash pace. Sweat rising on his skin. Luka backs down from the bar he had reared up on just as Merryweather groans and shifts in his bonds.
Mare attendants begin to fall in, going to the stallions; ome bearing lances and poles for the most riled up of grunts and brutes.
The mare that had shown Luka off returns to his side, undoing the bonds on his arms, allowing them to fall to his sides before moving to do the rest of the officers while he rubs his limbs to get the blood flowing again.
He glances over to see Merryweather's sleeve being removed as well. It's then that he sees the truth of his Sergeant's state. His forehead rests heavy on his arms as he leans them on the rearing bar, his bit is removed, he's panting. Still otherwise locked in his stall with the heavy tack still in place.
A squeal and some snorting from the far side; some of the brutes are agitated. The couple of mares with them look over. "Dammit...they need help, we can come back in a minute..."
"Go..." Luka says. "Our hands are free, we can start without you."
They leave, and Luka steps over, offering Merryweather a cool towel. "Here...I can start on taking this off you too..."
He's being kind. He's helping a fellow officer. He is not doing this as an excuse to touch Merryweather.
Merryweather can't see him, unable to remove the blindfold due to his bridle. But he does lift his head and accept the cool cloth that he scrubs over his face with a sigh that Luka feels in his bones as he steps up to his side.
First the yoke, allowing Merryweather to roll his shoulders and stretch revealing long and hard muscles as Luka takes a breath and works on the heavy saddle.
He goes to his back first, tapping his flank to let Merryweather know. Unhooking the leather straps of the crupper. His hands pause as his mouth goes dry at being so close to those large heavy balls of his. "Sorry Sarge, need to touch you here" He speaks up.
"It's fine, Captain," Merryweather replies, voice soft and whispery like velvet as he waves a hand. "Do what you need to do."
Luka tries not to stare at Merryweather’s twitching asshole, shiny with lube, and unstraps his balls as quickly and gently as possible...but the groan the Sergeant makes as his balls swing free still sends a bolt of lust squirming through his belly. Another spurt of pre weighs their condoms down even more.
Luka takes a deep breath. "I...I really don't know how you did it Sergeant...I was a mess..."
"Used to it," Merryweather replies as Luka quickly moves up to work on his saddle, then his bridle. "Stallions get felt up during our training at the army school at times. See how far we can go before giving in or lashing out. Testing discipline, that sort of thing."
Finally he lifts his head and throws the towel around his shoulders as he glances back at him. "Their touches and words don't mean anything to me, I can control myself better."
He lifts a brow and glances down to Luka's...oh. "Hmm, your condom isn’t full to bursting. So I'd say you handled it just fine for your first time. That’s really good going sir, miles better than some."
Luka nearly faints then and there. "Uh huh...uh..."
"Steady there, Captain." Merryweather says, pulling him close to lean against him. "Stay close, yeah? Nothing that can't be fixed with a rutting log, but it's the shivers afterwards that are killer."
The comfort makes everything far better and far worse as a result. Luka's head sways as he leans into him, savoring his warmth and scent...
They manage to get walking, pausing only to tell a mare officer what has occurred, that they’re taking a quick break.
He's only vaguely aware of how his condom feels as they move; heavy and bouncing like a half filled water balloon.
Things only begin to snap back into focus when he hears a stall gate slide shut and Merryweather guides him to something.
"Mount." He orders and Luka feels breathless and tipsy as he follows that command. His cock, now devoid of condom, slides into something; warm, wet, tight, welcoming.
Rutting logs, right.
Suddenly Merryweather is holding his face, eyes meeting his own. "Focus on me, Captain."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
His body moves, hips pounding. Slapping into that tight hole, his breathing coming fast and hard as Merryweather holds him.
It's good, it's so good...
"Merryweather…" He moans.
Merryweather shushes him softly, rubbing a thumb against his cheek. Steadying, calming, how could anyone think he was brutal because he was a stallion? He can't help but lean into his touch, holding his gaze as he bucks and thrusts.
"It's okay Captain, just fuck into that hole, get it out of your system. You'll feel better soon, ok? Then I'll help you get cleaned up and we can go down to the parade grounds, wine and dine, laugh and be done with this day? Just...pretend you're fucking a pretty mare, fuck her good, like that..."
Luka doesn't want to fuck a mare. "Can I...Can you stay with me? Please?" He babbles.
"'Course I will...you just have to cum, Cap, nice and easy-"
Luka stutters, ass clenched, unloading a mess of precum and gelding slick into the toy with a soft cry.
He huffs, head feeling clearer despite the exhaustion in his bones.
"-first one's always rough. You learn to handle the aftermath," Merryweather is murmuring gently, rubbing a cool cloth over him. "You did really well, good lad."
He whimpers, feeling his cock throb at those sweet words. He does fuck into that rutting log more, little thrusts in the aftershocks, more enticed by Merryweather’s hands on him than the idea of any mares.
“Don’t like mares,” he says quietly, then before his common sense reigns him in he leans in and presses his lips to his Sergeant’s.
Who pauses. Every muscle tense.
Confused, a little guilty, he pulls back.
Merryweather is wide-eyed, ears twitching. “Uh…Captain, it’s okay to be a little confused after something like that…”
He staggers off the log, holding onto Merryweather's shoulders. Breathing in his rich musky scent. "I'm...I'm okay," he says quietly. “Wanted to kiss you for a long time…Didn’t want to push though, sorry…” Did Merryweather only like mares? His heart drops to his stomach.
“...There’s plenty of nice geldings out there, Captain. You can do a lot better than me. Get you a nice lad who’ll write you poems and feed you cucumber sandwiches or somethin’...not a rough old grunt stallion soldier…”
That’s not a ‘I like mares’. Or an ‘I don’t like you’, or ‘you’re my commanding officer, sir’.
Luka leans up and kisses him again. “But I do want you…I can write my own poetry, feed myself cucumber sandwiches…but no one else can give me you.” He deliberately rubs his flank against Merryweather’s. “Sorry I can’t be a mare for you, but…I’d still love it if you fucked me…”
Merryweather’s eyes are dark, making soft whickering noises. Nostrils visibly flaring. “Captain…Captain…” What sounded like the beginning of a halfhearted protest turning into a low coaxing rumble. His hands, patting his back with almost mindless urgency, slip below his tail to his ass.
Luka whimpers eagerly, eyes rolling back and legs stiff as his hole is suddenly forced wide by a couple of fingers. “Oh Goddess, oh goddess please mount me-” His cock dripping freely onto the floor, thoroughly ignored in favour of his ass, which is getting fingerfucked and scissored open.
A mumble, a grunt, “-fuck, good hole, get you slick-” and an increasingly fuck-brained Merryweather jerks his cock once to get a handful of slick, and shoves three fingers in there. A few quick thrusts, and Luka is left empty.
“Wha- oh goddessgoddess yes fuck OH FU-” his question turns into a shrill whinny as the wind is driven out of him from Merryweather rearing up and planting the weight of his front half on Luka’s back, cock slapping the underside of his own, smearing his gelding brand with thick virile stallion cum as he draws back and pushes it into his asshole.
“-uuuuuuuuuuuoggghhh!”
Luka is bent over leaning against the side of the rutting log just for something to hold, as his ass is fucked open with rough, fast, insistent thrusts. The air is thick with the smell of sweat and cum and Merryweather’s thick underbelly coat is wiry and shaggy against his own sleek cut. Who is snorting, grunting on top of him, uncontrolled and wild, the only thing driving him the urge to fuck and dominate and plunder the hole serving as a sleeve for his cock…
“-ugh! Ugh! Guh! Uh!-” Luka’s eyes roll back, grunts falling from his slack mouth, forced from him by his guts being reshaped around a big thick stallion cock. It’s not the only sound; ringing in his ears is the plap plap plap of thick slimy precum frothing out from his gaping, stuffed asshole and dripping down those heavy churning stallion balls. Which are slapping against him with every thrust, smacking his gelding brand like a heavy paddle spanking him over and over with weights of distilled virility.
With a shrieking whinny of his own, Merryweather cums. Flooding Luka’s guts, thick hot spurts of sticky cum brimming with sperm and oozing out from around his cock, such is the volume.
Gruff pants and huffs tickle Luka’s ears with gusts of hot breath, both their coats damp with sweat.
“M…Merry…Merryweather?...”
Grunts and nickers instead of speech, rough calloused hands pawing at Luka’s chest even as he teeters on the edge of cumming.
Merryweather is still hard inside him. Starts to rock inside him again. Cum squelches and slurps as he pulls out and rams back in again, pouring down his legs in rivulets. He’s filthy.
Luka cums, breath driven from him as Merryweather’s cock punches into his lungs and every single nerve ending on the way, so his only sound is a trembling gasp. His slick squirts from his cock onto the floor, unheeded.
Merryweather rumbles happily, snorting and whinnying as he cums again. Rocking inside him and letting Luka’s walls clench around him. “Breed, breed hole,” he nickers, nipping hickies into Luka’s neck and shoulders in satisfaction.
“Oh goddess, Merry…” Luka groans as a sense of time and duty filters back in. “...the party…”
Merryweather grunts, uncaring, starts to fuck into him again. Determined to make sure Luka is full of his cum.
Well…It wasn’t like they could go anyway, with Merryweather in full stallion-brain and Luka with cum dripping from his gaping asshole. Really, it wasn’t like he wanted to go anyway…He moans as Merryweather fucks him closer to a second orgasm.
“...or I guess we could just stay here…”