[ leave it to the galra to take anything remotely pleasurable and
turn it into some kind of unpleasant mechanical process. they'd started
shiro gently with multiple attendants, soft hands stroking his skin,
playing with his nipples and his thighs and even his equine hole, easing
him into the process. half the attendants pleasured themselves at the same
time to get him used to the scent and sounds of it until his body became
conditioned to respond to much less elaborate preparations. the simple act
of leading him to the milking stalls and clipping his short lead to the
sturdy post there was enough to get him responding, or just a brush of
contact around his belly. for the most part these days he's not even
milked by hand but by machine, a few perfunctory caresses to get his cock
unsheathed and then guided into the flexible rubber molding of the suction
tube. more rarely they pull him from his stall and lead him to a machine
mocked up in poor imitation of a mare, clearly designed to stimulate his
equine instincts, and jerk his lead forward until he has to rear up and
mount. he usually has an audience for that, as if it's somehow
entertaining to watch him thrust violently into a mechanical sex toy,
spurred on by deliberately timed lashes of the whip.
sometimes, of course, they bring him to a slave, or bring slaves to
him, putting on a different kind of performance that is almost always about
edging him until he can barely think straight, until that last release is
the culmination of sheer animal need. he hates the loss of control but
there's something horribly satisfying about giving in to the mindless
pleasure, mounting a warm body and emptying himself inside, breeding
instincts finally satiated.
if anything, this feels more like those early sessions when he was
still being conditioned, still being coaxed to proper responses, when the
attendants had touched him like they were actually interested. his shaft
flexes in the boy's hands, stiffening further and bobbing up towards his
stomach, and shiro can't help planting his hooves when the hobbles are
undone and thrusting a little, soft equine grunts escaping him at each
movement. the brushes of velvet calf ears tickle his stomach and he's
careful with his shifting, restless hooves, keeping them well away. he can
hear the half-cow making intoxicating little sounds too, can smell honest
arousal off him, and shiro's nostrils flare wide, pulling in deep lungfuls
of the scent. the half-cow smells delicious, wet and willing and fertile,
and then shiro shudders all over at the first hot touch of a mouth on his
straining cock. ]
no subject
[ leave it to the galra to take anything remotely pleasurable and turn it into some kind of unpleasant mechanical process. they'd started shiro gently with multiple attendants, soft hands stroking his skin, playing with his nipples and his thighs and even his equine hole, easing him into the process. half the attendants pleasured themselves at the same time to get him used to the scent and sounds of it until his body became conditioned to respond to much less elaborate preparations. the simple act of leading him to the milking stalls and clipping his short lead to the sturdy post there was enough to get him responding, or just a brush of contact around his belly. for the most part these days he's not even milked by hand but by machine, a few perfunctory caresses to get his cock unsheathed and then guided into the flexible rubber molding of the suction tube. more rarely they pull him from his stall and lead him to a machine mocked up in poor imitation of a mare, clearly designed to stimulate his equine instincts, and jerk his lead forward until he has to rear up and mount. he usually has an audience for that, as if it's somehow entertaining to watch him thrust violently into a mechanical sex toy, spurred on by deliberately timed lashes of the whip.
sometimes, of course, they bring him to a slave, or bring slaves to him, putting on a different kind of performance that is almost always about edging him until he can barely think straight, until that last release is the culmination of sheer animal need. he hates the loss of control but there's something horribly satisfying about giving in to the mindless pleasure, mounting a warm body and emptying himself inside, breeding instincts finally satiated.
if anything, this feels more like those early sessions when he was still being conditioned, still being coaxed to proper responses, when the attendants had touched him like they were actually interested. his shaft flexes in the boy's hands, stiffening further and bobbing up towards his stomach, and shiro can't help planting his hooves when the hobbles are undone and thrusting a little, soft equine grunts escaping him at each movement. the brushes of velvet calf ears tickle his stomach and he's careful with his shifting, restless hooves, keeping them well away. he can hear the half-cow making intoxicating little sounds too, can smell honest arousal off him, and shiro's nostrils flare wide, pulling in deep lungfuls of the scent. the half-cow smells delicious, wet and willing and fertile, and then shiro shudders all over at the first hot touch of a mouth on his straining cock. ]