New Lover, New Tribe [Commission]
A commission for Garand .
Rushing through the thick undergrowth, Sena did his best to keep anger out of his mind. As well as desperation and a fear since he hadn't known since childhood. But the trail was faint and he'd need every sense focused on following it. There were only so many precious hours of sunlight left, or what little of it breached the jungle canopy that was the young stallion's home. Nightfall would be quick and absolute once it came, and he couldn't wait until morning. By then his mother...
The thought stirred up the rage the colt was trying to keep buried. They would spare no one! The elders even tried to dissuade him from leaving! All his life he'd been taught that belonging to a tribe meant that all came to the aid of any one member of it. Yet now that his mother needed the aid of the people she'd known all her life, it was only him running along this desperate path in search of her.
She'd been foraging near the village when her cries ran out. She must have been screaming at the top of her lungs, knowing that her shrieks would have to cut their way through the dense foliage to reach friendly ears. When Sena and a few of the other males ran in search of her they found some of the meaty rhizomes she'd dug up scatter all around.
There were signs of a struggle, although thankfully bloodless. The thick peat was stamped flat and kicked up in some places - those where her mother's hooves had struck it as she tried to break free. In other places it was gashed and gouged by clawed feet. There were many such prints around, and they were the only ones that led away from the scene.
He'd urged the others to follow immediately, but they'd talked him into going back to the village. He'd agreed, hoping that the other equines meant to gather a larger force to set out after the abductors. If Sena could have imagined they would actually chose to do nothing he never would have followed them.
The fur on his neck bristled at the memory of cowardly voices, insisting that they couldn't spare defenders, and that this might in fact just be a ploy to lure able fighters away, leaving the tribe vulnerable. They argued that the raiders had taken his mother unharmed, and doubtlessly intended to keep her that way. Some suggested they might even allow her to walk free, once they were done with her.
Once he heard that, nothing could stop the young stallion. He'd dashed back to the place where his mother had been taken, and quickly found the trail her abductors had left. He'd rushed ahead with nothing but the loincloth around his waist and a small but sharp bone-knife hanging from a sheath around his neck. He knew he might come to regret not arming himself better, but every minute had been precious. He had to reach his mother before nightfall.
He had to reach her before...
*******
Sierra twisted once again, despite the pain in her arms and the knowledge it would do little good. Her wrists were bound together and tied high above her head to one of the beams supporting the hut's roof. This left her unable to cover her naked body or to take so much as a step, felt alone try and escape. Still, the unwelcome touch on her nether lips made her squirm on reflex, and the mare knew there would be worse touches yet to come.
The apparent leader of the raiders that had taken her had not given his name, and judging by the knotted red shaft stiffening between his legs, he was intending to give her something else entirely. The hyena was nothing if not patient, lounging and taking an occasional drag from a long, slim pipe, his eyes getting foggy with every puff but not enough to stop him leering at her exposed body.
And if he minded Sierra's age, or the fact that she'd already borne a foal, his lecherous gaze didn't betray it. It had been twenty summers since the mare had borne her son, and she'd been a few years shy of twenty when she did. But she'd worked hard bringing her colt up, especially after her mate had disappeared, and her body showed signs of such work.
Motherhood had softened her form, but the taught muscles underneath those curves gave her a vital, firm-fleshed appearance even into her middle years. She'd had a runner's legs when she was a filly, and they'd taken on a decidedly fuller shape into her later years, her thighs slightly plumper, her behind full but round and her hips flared enough that they could catch a stallion's eyes in a way that a filly never could.
The muscles on her arms stood out as the limbs were stretched above her, and both those arms and those legs had given her captors a number of bruises and what she hoped were fractures by the time they managed to muzzle and bind her. Her humiliating position also meant her breasts were exposed, and she couldn't help but notice that the leering hyena's gaze would rest on them before drifting lower.
Normally she wouldn't have minded a male stealing a glance at her chest. Despite her age and motherhood her breasts still looked invitingly pear-shaped, swaying rather than sagging and promising anyone looking at them a gloriously soft handful. And as much as Sierra had enjoyed to have a lover palm and knead her lush chest, the hands running over them now were a decidedly unwelcome touch.
The zebra mare touching her didn't care, not even bothering to look the mare in the eyes as she trailed her fingers along her body, leaving chalky-white smears on Sierra's umber fur. Such ceremonial markings were not unfamiliar to the mare, but the designs were. Although considering that the striped equine was focusing on her breasts, belly, and the insides of her thighs, the mare could guess well enough what they were. She'd worn fertility markings before, when she was wed to her mate. Her childhood friends had painted her, every stroke and dab accompanied by a well wish and a caring word.
It was the other female's touch that was more disconcerting. Sierra's painted belly quivered as the doe kneeling next to her brought her hand up again, a pungent-smelling oil glistening on her fingers as the digits were pushed between the thighs the mare was desperately trying to keep closed. The doe was quite young, just into adulthood, but the curve of her belly as well as the apologetic look in her brown eyes told Sierra that she'd already been though what the leering hyena had in mind for her.
She was gentler than the zebra, obviously wishing to show someone the kindness no one had shown her, but the matronly mare wished she wouldn't bother. She'd rather experience the coming rape as pain, as an ordeal she could hopefully put behind her one day. The doe's touch as she oiled Sierra's dark lips brought on confusing feelings.
"Alya, start greasing under her tail. If this new whore doesn't satisfy me while I'm putting my pups in her, I'll make sure she regrets it..." the hyena said, his words making the mare wince. As humiliating as the idea was, she might have acquiesced to taking the male under her tail if it meant being spared carrying his child. The idea of being forced to endure both was almost enough to make her weep.
The doe obediently moved behind her and Sierra could feel her parting her freshly painted cheeks before she felt her touch in a spot that had remained virginal up till now. She was standing behind her, a calming hand on the mare's brown back even as a slick digit traced the outline of the dark ring of flesh hidden under her coppery tail.
"The master is not a gentle man, but he is not needlessly cruel..." she whispered softly so that only Sierra would hear, and the mare wondered if she believed her own words. "Please him in all things and he will not hurt you..." she finished, making Sierra wince as an oil-slick finger slid in where she hoped the lecherous hyena wouldn't...
*******
Night was swiftly falling but Sena had made it in time. The bonfire the raiders had lit had made finding them easy in the rising gloom of the jungle, and the fact that all of them were gathered around it meant their night-eyes would be ruined. Well, almost all of them. He'd found a sentry just outside the camp but managed to dispatch him before he could raise an alarm. It had cost him his knife, the bone-blade having broken off inside the hyena's ribcage. He'd considered taking the guard's spear, but it was a heavy, thrusting one that Sena wasn't familiar with, and would be sure to slow him down.
He'd looked around the humble huts and lean-to's scattered around the fire until he spotted a larger one a little further. Approaching it he caught the faint notes of music, telling him that there was someone inside celebrating away from the fireside crowd. His ears swiveled but failed to pick up the noises he'd dreaded of hearing, telling he was just in time. Or possibly too late.
He carefully parted the tent-flap, easily picking out the hulking shape of a naked hyena with his back turned to him. The air in the tent was thick with smoke that hadn't come from the little oil-lamp burning in a corner, and by the slur in the oblivious male's words Sena guessed where it had come from. The oblivious raider was groping his mother, the sight of it making the young stallion's blood pound in his ears as rage rose within him.
He quietly slid the length of braided leather that had held his lost knife, winding some of it around either hand. His mother had raised her tear-streaked face and saw her son, but to her credit managed to hide her face quickly enough that the male groping her didn't notice. The tent's other two inhabitants were a pair of naked women - a doe playing softly on a reed pipe with her eyes closed and a zebra mare not bothering to look up from the two small timpani drums she was tapping.
The music, although quiet, served to muffle the few steps it took to bring Sena within range. His wrists were crossed after he'd looped the cord around the startled male's throat and his hands pulled apart in an instant as the killing length was tightened. Muscles bulged along the colt's arms and shoulders, the old leather creaking but digging tight enough into the thick fur of the hyena's throat that not a sound escaped him.
A feline might have had the chance of slipping a claw under the garrote and slicing it, but the raider's claws were as dull as that smoke had left his mind, and all he could do was struggle in silent panic as his eyes bulged and his muzzle opened wide, failing to draw even half a breath of air. Sena's jaws were as tense as his arms, muscles trembling until the spotted male finally fell limp.
He stepped over him and immediately began to undo the rope tying his mother's wrists. The mare remained silent, the tears now flowing from her eyes softened by the smile gracing her muzzle at the sight of her son and savior. Once he'd freed her, Sena put one finger to his lips, urging the mare to remain silent as she crouched down and led her out of the tent. He wasn't sure if the hyena was dead or merely unconscious, but he didn't care enough to check. The doe had starred at the sight in terrified shock, but there had been a hard glint in the striped mare's eyes as she beheld the sight of her master lying on the ground, making Sena sure that he wouldn't be getting up.
He considered taking the lamp, or a nearby torch, but decided against it, despite the inky blackness looming around the raider camp. The light would be of little help, its glow more a hindrance as it betrayed their presence to any pursuers. Their trek through the jungle growth was slow but silent as they set out, knowing that any direction was good as long as it led them away from here.
The sound of running water drew them to a small river, one of the many tributaries of the big one snaking its way through the jungle. They crossed it easily since the water never got past their waists, and once on the other bank walked for an hour upstream through the shallows where the stream would immediately erase the hoof-prints they left behind.
Sena would look back every now and again and the brief glimpse of the expression on his face would remind the mare that she was covered in nothing but swirling lines of white paint. There was something about the way he looked at her - not stealing glances, but rather taking in the sight of her - that made Sierra's heart quicken and her hooves do the same, closing the distance between her and the stallion leading the way.
The river made a wide enough gash in the tree-tops for the Moon to shine on the two equines, the pale glow seeming almost as clear as early twilight after the thick night of the jungle. They looked at each other, just enjoying the fact that they were together again after the thought of never seeing each other. When she could no longer stand it, Sierra threw her arms around her boy and hugged him fiercely.
He smoothed his fingers over her coppery mane as he spoke softly and soothingly to her. Sierra was half-laughing and half sobbing as the terror she'd felt at her imminent violation back at the hut mixed with the joy of seeing her son again. She relaxed her hold after she'd calmed down, looking at her son and noting just how much he had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
The colt she'd borne had grown into such a fine young stallion, one brave and strong enough to rescue her singlehandedly. She wanted to ask him why he'd come alone, but was hesitant to spoil the serenity of this moment. Instead she smiled when Sena brushed aside the long lock of hair that she kept died scarlet red to brighten up the earthy fur tones she shared with her son.
That thought brought her mind back to the markings she'd been painted with. Looking down at her legs and the lower part of her belly she saw the white had started to run when they'd been crossing the river. Eager to be rid of the markings of a breeding slave, Sierra took her son by the hand and led him back into the water. The air had grown cool as the night fell, making the river seem pleasantly warm by contrast but the mare still gasped after she'd cupped her hands and splashed some of it on her front.
"Sena, could you do my back?" she asked, brushing her hands over the now soaked fur of her chest and so preoccupied with rubbing the white scrawls out that she didn't realize how she looked to the young stallion.
She shuddered a bit at the shock of water being poured over her back, relaxing only when she felt Sena's hoof-nailed fingers rubbing at the markings as well as the tense muscles underneath. His hands had felt pleasant rubbing her back and shoulders, and a little more than that when they drifted lower, following the trail the zebra had painted on her fur. His touch was strong and possessive, but the opposite of the groping the hyena had given her. She was unbound as her son caressed her, and rather than run she had a strange urge to lean back into his touch, to feel those strong arms wrap around her...
When he began to rub out the swirling pattern drawn on each of the mare's brown cheeks, Sierra felt herself wink, wondering if her son had caught the intimate reflex, and wondering if it would be a bad thing if he did. He'd still been a colt when her mate disappeared from their lives. She'd told him his father had been killed by a beast he'd been hunting, which might have been the truth, but the mare had her doubts. The body was never found, and he'd been growing distant from his family, unsatisfied enough, perhaps, to go join another tribe.
She hadn't been with a male since then, and with a strong young stallion touching her behind, her body was making demands that only such a male could satisfy. As her hands slid form her now clean breasts and down to her abdomen, her mind turned to what lay beneath them. She knew she was quite close to her heat, would probably go into it tomorrow. Her body was still merely receptive to a male rather than desperate for one. If she mated with her son tonight his sperm would sit snugly within her womb until her eggs came out to meet it.
The idea had her soaked tail flagging to the side, removing any doubt whether or not Sena could see the inviting flashes of her sex. As well as any doubt as to whether he was meant to see them. The mare stifled a moan as her son's touch as well as her own fueled her desire to take him inside her, to spend this night feeling loved in every way possible. To feel life once again growing within her, a beautiful little foal she knew only Sena could give her.
She turned around to face her son, and her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the same desire burning in his eyes. Sena took her by the hand and she let him lead her out of the stream, her body now impeccably clean although the mare suspected it wouldn't remain so for long. They walked back to the dry bank and the mare had to lean back against the nearest tree as the ordeal she'd been through combined with the excitement of the moment made her legs weak.
She felt his fingers on her chin as he tilted her muzzle up before pressing his lips against hers. Sierra almost whimpered into their kiss, her body seeming to melt as her son's pressed against it. She'd noticed his shaft had dropped while he had bathed her and now she could feel that dark length stiffening between them. She twined the fingers of one hand into her son's mane while the other drifted down his muscular chest until they brushed against bare skin, silken smooth but covering something that was already as hard as steel.
Sierra's fingers tightened gently, her hand failing to encircle the throbbing length that was coming alive under her touch. She stroked it softly, her heart fluttering as her son bucked into her grip, the shaft she was touching growing even thicker for a second before settling down. He broke their kiss and the gasping mare almost begged him to continue before deciding against it. There would be time for kissing once more urgent needs were seen to.
Her son kept kissing her even though he'd left her lips behind. He planted his muzzle down her long neck and along her collar before his lips found her breasts. The mare let out a low, eager nicker while her nipples were suckled until the dark tips were stiff and wet, bringing her hands up to tweak the nubs when her stallion's head drifted lower, along her taught belly, the fluttering of his lips making her legs open on reflex. And just in time.
Sierra bit her lower lip to keep herself from whinnying when her son's muzzle reached her crotch. She could feel a rush of cold air against her wet sex as the young stallion took in a deep lungful of her scent and her legs shuddered when he blew it back out against her winking mound. She dug her fingers into her soft teats when a broad equine tongue ran over her flashing lips twice before it was plunged in past the darkly glistening folds.
Her son's hands were firm and strong as he gently griped her thighs, and despite the fact that she was standing over him there was no mistaking his dominant posture. She was his mare and he was preparing her before he mounted her and claimed her. Her boy seemed to appreciate her taste and Sierra knew his interest in it would only deepen once she was in heat.
She could feel her belly quiver as her son's tongue dipped further into her honeypot, the tip curling as the young stallion instinctively sought out the most sensitive spots in her sex. It was only his hands on the insides of her thighs that kept Sierra from closing her legs tight round him, keeping him pinned and keeping his muzzle pressed against her winking lips.
By the time he pulled his tongue out the mare's chest was heaving with every desperate breath she took. Her eyes pleaded and lit up once her son rose, her juices glistening on his dark muzzle as he gave her a look every bit as hungry as hers. She eased her legs apart and felt him grab the left one under her knee, lifting it and exposing her to his twitching shaft.
The mare's hands shook as one of them went to her lips while the other reached out towards her son's stallionhood. She spread her winking lips open as wide as she could, holding the equine length just below the flare and guiding it to her dripping slit. Her son hesitated for a second with her flashing lips splayed around the bell-like tip of his cock and Sierra remembered that he'd never mated before. Her colt was about to give her his virginity, and the mare vowed to give him all of herself in return. And foals, of course...
She was still thinking about that when a sharp buck drove the first few inches of Sena's cock into her, the mare's eager sex forced to adjust to the sudden intrusion after years of taking nothing larger than a few of Sierra's fingers. This was different - the hard, living heat spreading her wide, pushing deeper in as her body molded itself around it, her velvety walls lovingly clinging to her son's member until she could feel the throb of his heart within her.
She threw her arms around him and her lips against his, moaning into the kiss as she accepted her new stallion. A shudder ran through her when the medial ring dimpled her lips for a second before sinking in along with the rest of the dark length, her sex stretching almost painfully as the thickest part of her lover's shaft entered her.
He'd proved a perfect fit for her and Sierra felt the blunt tip of her son's cock pushing against the barrier to her womb a few moments before she felt his crotch pressed against hers. He was pausing, holding himself still inside her despite the fact that his length was flexing impatiently within the snug confines of her sex.
She gave him a nod, telling him that she was ready for him. The nod was all Sena needed and the next thing the mare felt was her son's length slipping out of her before he reversed direction and shoved himself back in with enough force to make her cry out. She could feel her abdomen clenching, realizing with a blush that it had been so long since she'd had a stallion that her son's first thrust was almost enough to make her cum.
And it had been even longer since she'd had a stallion fresh out of colthood, one who had no experience in bedding a mare and so trusted in instinct to get the job done. Sena's rhythm was jerky and uneven but there was no denying the power in those hips as the slammed themselves against the mare's body, the twitching equine length sliding no more than half-way out of her before bottoming out again in a way that was almost but not quite painful.
Soon her son's grunts and snorts joined the softer and altogether more feminine noises leaving her muzzle, the stallion's body almost as hard against her as the trunk of the tree she was leaning on. She could also pick up the noise of their coupling - wet slippery sounds interrupted by the smack of flesh on flesh whenever that thick shaft went back where she wanted it to be.
She could feel the juices Sena was pumping out of her soak the fine fur covering the insides of her thighs. The one hoof she had on the ground was now almost leaving it whenever her young lover thrust into her and she wondered how much longer she could remain standing. Just then she felt hand that had been gripping her hip and the one holding her leg up move down and back, each palm cupping her behind as the mare understood what her son intended.
Once she was certain he had a good, strong grip on her she hopped up and wrapped both her legs around him. She gasped as the maneuver made the steely length shift within her, the weight of her own body now keeping her pressed down on her son's crotch.
When Sena began to move his hips again his strokes were shallow, but more even. The tree she was leaning on supported some of her weight, but the mare still herself being bounced as her lover began to rut her with the urgency of a stud breeding his first mare. His fingers dug into her lush cheeks, her stiff nipples brushing against the fur of his chest as Sierra held herself close to him, grinding his body against her son's as he claimed her.
The mare was amazed at his stamina as Sena kept up the rapid pace, the vigor with which he was mating her holding the mare trapped on the verge of climax. She was soaking wet down there by now but the friction of his shaft against the silken walls of her sex still felt hot, a burning that was slowly spreading through the rest of her body.
She was certain it would burn her up until she felt the tell-tale stretching deep within her, knowing it to be the flaring of her son's member. The feeling of his tip mushrooming inside her pushed her over the edge and she heard strange little whimpers leaving her muzzle, the noises unmistakably pleading, begging her stallion for something she knew she was about to get.
She was still in the throes of climax when she felt her back leave the tree trunk, her entire weight resting on Sena's hands and the shaft that was now lodged as deep inside her as it could go. The twinge of her body being stretched out by her son's flare was matched by a similar pain in her rump as Sena dug his finger into her cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat at the possessive gesture and she'd flicked her ears back submissively even as the first rope of her son's spunk traveled up his engorged length. She heard him grunt in time to every pulse he shot into her, a torrent of thick, life-giving seed forced into her womb by Sena's flared tip.
She held on to her son as if he was afraid of plummeting to her death, tears of joy damping the fur around her eyes as her sex eagerly milked and caressed the throbbing shaft. Unlike the burning of their mating, Sierra felt an altogether different warmth filling her as she accepted her new lover's seed, one gentler but somehow more powerful despite it.
Only when she felt him soften within her did she reluctantly unwrap her legs from around him, keeping her arms around his neck as he gently lowered her on to the soft grass and laid himself beside her. They were both too exhausted to even consider a fire, so the mare just laid herself on top of her son, the two lovers drifting off to sleep in the shared heat.
The pair slept little during the night. Sierra had been woken at some point to find her dreams of being gently taken by her son interrupted by the reality. She was lying on her back, resting on the soft grass as Sena rested on top of her, his shaft stirring the seed he'd left in her hours ago. The mare could feel much of it leaving her, leaking as it was pumped out by the colt's pistoning member. Still, she suspected her womb still held enough, and if not she was guaranteed a fresh dose quite soon.
She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after her son had pulled out, drifting off to slumber while warm equine seed dribbled from her well-bred sex. The mare rose with the light of dawn to find that her son's shaft had woken before he did, and had climbed atop it to give him an intimate wakeup. The stallion's eyelids flickered open as she bottomed out, and he allowed her to ride him for a while, enjoying both the sensation of her grinding against him as she rode his lap as well as the view of her breasts bouncing as he looked up at them.
After he'd woken up fully he'd grabbed Sierra's hips and bred her in the golden light of the morning, finishing inside the mare for the third time and leaving her flooded with thick equine seed. The mare's heart head fluttered at the sensation of his hands on her hips, the firm possessive grasp that instinctively reminded her she was now his mare, claimed and no doubt bred. Once that hunger was sated, they looked to satisfy another, and while she foraged for breakfast, Sierra also picked a few berries and flowers for something else.
While they ate, her son told her why he'd come for her alone, some bitterness still lingering in his tone, but Sierra could hear the words he hadn't bothered speaking. They would not be going back. Why spend the rest of their lives among people who could no longer look them in the eye after having abandoned the mare to her fate?
And why return to a tribe that might look down on their new relationship? There was no doubt in Sierra's mind, especially as she sat there under her Sena's gaze. Strictly speaking, they were no longer mother and son. The powerful young stallion had taken her in the moonlight, and Sierra had given herself over to him, and was glad of it. She was his mate now, and after he'd proven that he could protect her and give her what she needed, why seek a home among cowards who'd abandoned her?
After they'd eaten, the mare found a large stone and used a thick, green branch to roll and crush the vegetation she'd gathered on top of it until she had a runny red paste covering the surface of the stone - the same sort she used to dye her mane. The mare called Sena over and dipped one of his fingers into the mixture before guiding the tip to a point just below her belly button. He got the idea and Sierra let his fingers trace little patterns over her body, not bothering to guide or correct his movements. Every tribe had its own unique markings of this sort, and it was fitting that she wore a new one as she bore the first child to be born into this new tribe...