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Stephanie's teeth ground into her bitgag as she struggled to pull. Her leather straps dug into her flesh, pulled down by the weight of the plow she'd been chained to. She'd been at it since morning, her muscular body exposed to the elements and only covered by utilitarian straps and chains that gave her arms little freedom at her sides. Naked hooves caked in dirt seeped into the field as she continued to pull, the blinders by her eyes keeping her focused forward.

The mare wasn't always like this. Before her fur had grown lighter in the sun and her body stronger from labor, Stephanie was a skinny lass that complained whenever she chipped a nail. She had long hair, curvy hips, and an attitude built from rich and distant parents. Her youth had been spent gallivanting through town, and college was no major difficulty. Even getting into prestigious schools meant little. After all, they had become rich kid daycares by that point.

Whatever friends she did have were more interested in her money, and she was aware of it. The fake smiles, gaudy laughs, and slimy methods to get her to pay for everything were common everyday occurrences. But she found them useful, and when they stopped being so, she simply cut them out. No one was permanent in her life, and her parents were only a monthly check.

By her late twenties, she had made a habit of seeking darker pleasures. Single nights with hardened men away from cities, where they wouldn't know her wealth or influence. She'd go in with the collar of her shirt opened just enough, drawing the eyes of every man who wanted a piece of her to better pick her fill.

Then she met Mark. As trite as it was to say so, the coyote was different from the other men she'd met. Most men carried an underhanded desire in their tone, a desperation to bed her like she was some sort of goddess lucky to grace their presence. Even when, by all accounts, they knew nothing. But the coyote had a different gaze. One that, after she bought his first drink, crawled up her spine. He didn't see her, the person she presented herself as. No, the coyote saw right through her, saw how worthless she feared herself to be.

"Motel down the corner." He downed his glass in one gulp, "Don't keep me waiting." That first night cracked whatever defenses she carried. Most men treated her fine, or just tried using her to get off. Stephanie didn't care, she was using them the same way. But the moment she walked into the motel with Mark, the coyote took control. He didn't just simply fuck her, no, the leather jacketed scoundrel tanned her ass red and made her beg for more, made her squeal things she'd never dreamed to say.

She'd told him she liked it rough, confident that a single coyote needed to be for her. But by the end of the night, her mascara stained her cheeks and she couldn't feel her legs. The coyote didn't stay to cuddle, simply popping a smoke in the room, then left without as much as a single word. Any sane person would have left that day feeling thankful nothing worse happened.

She hunted for him in the bar the next night.

Each night she returned, it became less of a game and more an addiction. The coyote would act disinterested, and she'd play the seductress. But as time went on, she grew more desperate while he remained unphased by her new plight. In fact, she never saw him smile unless she was suffering, either physically or mentally. But what she'd do for that smile surprised her. One session they had never even left the bar. The coyote simply had her brace against the wall so he could spank her for everyone to see. She should have been mortified. Her panties told a different story.

"You're becoming a nuisance." Mark's words were a cold knife in her chest one evening. He lazily sat at the table, legs crossed and eyes wandering. "Do you really expect me to come and remind you every night? I have a life you know."

"I...I can pay you," She bit her lip, nails digging into the table like an addict burning through withdrawal.

His gaze fell on her like a noose wrapping around her neck. "Pay me? Heh, there's an idea." He pushed his boot out to the floor, "Kiss it, and I'll tell you how we'll do things." Whatever pride Stephanie carried had long vanished. She ignored the whistles and hollers of the bar goers as she rested onto her knees and kissed the heavy work boot of the man who saw through her. "Good. Good. Now, I'm actually insulted that you think money is going to make me interested in you. Like I'm some cheap prostitute you can have whenever you like. It's that attitude of yours that annoys me. That cheap little mask of importance you wear. So I'm going to give you an ultimatum: I'll take your money, all of it, and you'll be mine until I see fit. Or you walk away and leave me alone." He carefully pushed her face away with his boot, getting up and adding, "Don't contact me until next Saturday. Bring all the legal documents required."

All of it? Stephanie struggled to hold her tongue silent at the question. He wanted everything from her, she couldn't misinterpret that even if she tried. The mare's body quivered each day at the thought of it. Losing everything she was, everything she had, to a man who brought her suffering she didn't know she needed. The choice was impossible.

"Did I say you could stop?!" The harsh swat of her master's riding crop across her flank knocked the mare back to the present. She whinnied into her gag, straining to pull the plow once again as the coyote continued to strike her for motivation. "You only stop when I tell you to, Buzzcunt!" Buzzcunt, yes, that was her name now.

Stephanie ceased to be the day she signed those documents. He was given everything from her: Her money, her status, even her very identity were now under Mark's control. She was a slave in all but name according to legal terms.

The coyote watched callously as Buzzcunt returned to pulling. At a glance, he had the trappings of a farmer: Heavy work boots, light blue jeans, and a collared plaid shirt with heavy gloves over his hands. He carried the riding crop with intent, resting it against his shoulder but keeping a steady pace with the mare to remind her not to slip up. Normally he wouldn't be watching her so closely, having more important things to do on the farm or spending his time with any guest he brought over. But today, Buzzcunt could tell he wanted to be a little extra in his cruelty.

Not that she hated it. In the two years since she'd signed herself to him, Buzzcunt had been transformed from a budding masochist to a proper slave. The delicate mare that had not worked a day in her life had been transformed to a bulky workhorse. Her long illustrious mane buzzed down to a tiny mohawk. The only reason he didn't shave her completely was to remind her of what she once had.

"Stop." She stood stiff, slowing her breathing as he paced before her. With a nod from her master, Buzzcunt rested her knees into the dirt and kissed the mud caked boots through her bitgag. "You're doing a shit job today." Mark pulled her blindes off and forced her head to see the sloppy lines of her plot. "I know my workhorse is at least able, but this is unacceptable. It's unnecessary stress on my fucking retirement." He had her stare up into his cold blue eyes, "Do you think fucking up is worth my attention? Cause I can just leave you in the basement for a few days, Buzzcunt."

No, no she wanted his attention. The sting of his whip, the shame of his saliva on her face, Buzzcunt needed it. He grinned at the desperation in her eyes. "Maybe you just need a snack." Unzipping his pants, Buzzcunt fought the urge to try and fail at pushing her bitgag out. His pink cock standing in attention, waiting for her lips to glisten it with her saliva. He did that for her, leaving her mouth free to explore his cock on command.

"Suck it. We're burning daylight." She swallowed his cock, her tongue tasting every inch and corner while her head bobbed freely with what was available. Before she was Buzzcunt, she had seen so many dicks and so many sizes. Her master's was not the biggest or proudest, but it was his and she sought to remind him what a good slave she was. Maybe he'd actually fuck her again. It had been so long.

On his end, Mark did nothing but hold her head for balance. She knew it wasn't his job to cum inside her, so why waste the effort? She wanted his seed, her little snack before returning to work on the field. "Hungry, ain't ya?" He chuckled, toying with the back of her ears as she sucked him dry. "Buzzcunt's really good at giving head, unlike that spoiled rich girl."

She had better be, with the hours he had her practice. Not just on him, and the dildos he brought her, but the guests that'd come visit on the farm. Master's platonic little playmates and fuckbuddies, the kind of people Stephanie wouldn't give two shits about. Now she'd been a receptacle for their lusts, abused and disgraced by them. And some sick part of her loved every second.

Mark held her head tight as his cock pulsed. Seed spilled across her tongue, followed by the mare swallowing it down her gullet. Her one special snack of the day. Her master pulled out and zipped back up like he'd just finished his own chore. "Now start over. Properly this time."

The blue sky was a colorful flame when she finished, the sun setting on her tired sweaty body. Her master said nothing as he unhooked her from the plow, replacing it with his own leash as he led her back to the house. Built into a hill, the home Mark acquired originally had an apartment set up in the basement that could be walked out of. With her money, he had it converted into a stable with several amenities. Buzzcunt was not allowed upstairs, workhorses didn't belong with people.

Unlocking her cuffs, he commanded. "Up, up." Buzzcunt raised her arms over her head, holding them there while her master grabbed a stool. He locked her hands to a hook above, leaving her standing stiff. His nose twitched in disgust, "You worked up a sweat doing shit work. Pathetic." Shame told her she needed to do better. If she were still Stephanie, the burgeoning masochist, she'd have tried to apologize through her gag. But Buzzcunt remained silent, waiting for her punishment.

Her body shivered when he twisted a handle behind her, knowing what was to come. The sudden spray hit her back, its icy chill splaying across her spine. She bit into her gag, screaming as the nozzle twisted into a cone of water. Her master cared little, spraying down her entire body with the built in hose to wash off all the grime, sweat, and mud. If she had done well, he'd have used a sponge, carefully washing every area and teasing her sensitive bits.

But a bad horse deserved nothing but a hose.

"Fuck," Her master muttered. With the blinders off, she saw him staring at his phone from the corner of his eye. "Lost track of time. Guess I'll tan your hide in the morning." He quickly set about drying her off. Before sending her to her stall, he attached a special vibe across her cunt, a hood over her head to blind her, and relieved her gag to let her eat from the trove before returning the bit. "I best not hear any noises from down here," His hand clenched her maw tight, "Is that clear?"

She nodded silently, knowing her master dare not wish his workhorse to speak. In her darkness, all Buzzcunt heard was the sound of her stall closing, and the creaking of stairs as her master went up to the second floor. Then she heard more, several pairs of feet scrambling on the floor above her.

At least once a week, her master had visitors. People he either knew before her, or met soon after taking ownership. At least, that's what she guessed from what she heard above. Sometimes there was a party, with cheering and hollering from what she imagined as a sports game. Other times it was one other person, playful and fun, waiting for his cruelty.

The buzz between her legs drove her breaths deep. Blind with the hood, she imagined what events were happening by the sounds. Two furs had come to visit, at least one with hooves judging by the clop against the wood. One man, one woman, both submissive and waiting for his touch. Her master would pretend to laugh at their jokes, play along with their flirtations as they carefully touched his body. What Buzzcunt would do to be in their position, to pretend to be a person again, just for the rush of being broken the first time all over.

After dinner, a chicken dish if her nose was correct, the three paced their way to his bedroom, directly overhead Buzzcunt's stable. Part of her swore her vibrator matched the creaking of the bed, as if she were lucky enough to be pushed into the soft covers and fucked relentlessly. His teeth dug into her flesh to remind her what she was: Prey.

Her vibe stopped, but the creaking remained, followed with moans of a man that was not her master. Desperate, she whined and reached for her cunt, but chains held her hands to her sides. Tears of frustration swelled inside her hood, the pleasure dropping only to be brought up again as her toy whirred to life once more. Too strong to let her sleep, too inconsistent to get off. Meanwhile her master pleasured two guests, and judging from the throaty scream of the woman, he did it well.

It only ceased when the squeaks from above stopped. Gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Buzzcunt rested against her little mat and properly closed her eyes behind the hood. Another day denied. Unlike women in loveless marriages, the mare was pushed each night to the brink before she could slumber.

And she loved it. Her masochistic heart cried tears of joy.

Next morning she awoke to the loud buzzer of her master's air horn. Scrambling to her blind feet, she stood tall and waited for his command, shivering in delight as his firm hand graced her breasts and pinched at the nipples. Silently, he removed her gag and let her suckle the tube of her breakfast shake. A special blend of vitamins and his seed that filled her up each morning. No slave needed real food, their master was simply enough.

"Alright, alright." He pulled it away, "Get out. Your punishment whipping has been postponed long enough." Pulling her by the reigns, he strapped her up against the hook and left her hanging while perusing his collection. While not the delicate flower anymore, she still tensed in anticipation of what came next.

With the cracking of the whip, she jumped. Her master chuckled from behind, "Skittish still?" He said, not even having struck her yet. Buzzcunt bowed her head in shame, disappointed in the natural reflexes of her body. His hands reached around her head and pulled the hood off, giving Buzzcunt a view of her master's naked form. He stood proud, his flaccid cock dangling and growing slightly at her fear. "You're better as a paindoll than a nag. Unfortunately, I need a nag."

The doorbell rang from above. Mark rolled his eyes and swore to himself. "Really? You have to be this early?" The coyote rolled up his whip and left the mare alone, hanging in place waiting for their guest. From her master's reaction, Buzzcunt realized it must be the weekend, as only one guest comes every other Saturday.

"I guess you had a good night," A new voice said as a set of hooves followed her master down the stairs, "Since this isn't even that early."

"Twins, believe it or not. Bunnies. They even fucked themselves, the freaks." She turned her head at Mark's soft laugh, seeing the familiar towering build of Ivan following behind. A powerful stallion, Ivan grinned with lust at the hanging mare before them. Buzzcunt herself twitched in anticipation, knowing what the day would have to offer later.

"You know the drill, strip and wait in the corner." Mark commanded, pointing off to the far wall, "I'll be back dressed." Ivan nodded and tossed his plaid shirt and jeans into a nearby basket. Before meeting her master, Buzzcunt wouldn't have given men like Ivan a second look. She preferred her partners to be more chiseled, never finding much interest in rounded guts. But he made up for it with a muscular ass that had proven his stamina time and time again, one she got the delight of eyeing as the naked chestnut stallion waited against the wall, hands at the concrete.

The coyote returned in his usual workwear. He casually went about strapping leather gear across Ivan's body: A tight harness for his body and head, a bitgag, chains to keep his arms at his side. The mirror image of Buzzcunt, except he had the rights of a person when the sun went down. Releasing her from the hanging hook, her master lashed reins to both of them and held a riding crop to his side. "Come on, ponies. Got a lot of work to do today."

Buzzcunt could smell the power in Ivan's body as he pulled the plow alongside her. The strength in each movement, the buckling bite of his teeth against the leather bit. If not for the blinders at her side, she'd watch his powerful figure instead of focusing on her task.

He had no qualms with doing the same. Buzzcunt felt Ivan's eyes lust over her, knowing full well the prize he sought after working as Mark's pony for the day. From the gap in her blinder she saw his cock slowly engorge throughout the day, never to full erection but always somewhere on the path. If not for the weights they pulled, he might as well have been at the ready.

Unlike her, Ivan was treated to a proper meal. While she went to the stable to suckle on the tube of vitamins, Ivan and Mark went out to eat, returning to suit the horse back up and lock the two back in gear to work.

The chestnut shire stallion grew giddy at the day's end, and Buzzcunt grew weak in her knees. Pulled back into the stables by their reins, her master locked her into a frame and pulled her tail up. "God, there's a fucking fog here." Mark spat between her cheeks, then swatted her crop against them. She whinnied into her gag, edging closer and closer from the delight of pain.

"Come on, stud." Mark pulled Ivan closer from the corner of her eye. His hands were bound to his side still, so he had nothing but his mind and his view to bring his cock to erection. The flat headed monstrosity slowly crawled out from his sheath, hard and thick like a club. Her master lined it up against her cunt, "Don't move until I say you can." Her master ordered, leaving Ivan standing at the edge of her desire.

The coyote's hand braced her chin, forcing her up into his devilish eyes. "Unlike you, Ivan pulled his weight today. He deserves a reward for that, doesn't he?" She nodded softly, not wanting to break his grasp. Mark smiled and whispered, "Big guy like him, probably good enough breeding to make something worthwhile from your lazy cunt. Course, it's gonna hurt. Just like last time." His claws dug into the flesh of her face, "And you're gonna love it, right, Buzzcunt?"

Her cunt dripped arousal onto the floor. She wanted it. The pain, the humiliation, Ivan's babies, she wanted them all for her master. Mark made the last option difficult, but there was always a chance Ivan's virality broke past the medication. "Enjoy yourself," He said, more to Ivan but Buzzcunt agreed in silence. Her teeth dug into her leather bit as the flat headed monster spread her out, filling the mare. Ivan didn't dally, slamming everything into her in one push and leaving her mouth open wide, her tongue bracing against her leather bit.

Every thrust filled the air with wet squelches, muffled moans, and haggard breaths. The chains rattled with every thrust, with the shire horse pulling out to slam into her again and again without worry for her pleasure. If not for the frame and training, she'd have fallen to the floor as soon as he hit her cervix. Instead, she stayed strong, lost in the pleasurable agony of him fucking her without abandon. All while her master watched, a small sadistic grin across his handsome face.

Ivan lurched forward, loudly grunting into his gag as he filled her insides. His warmth spread through her, his cock growing harder with every spurt into the mare. Weeks of edging had her own walls shatter, her teeth grinding against the leather bit as she struggled to scream out of ecstasy. The shire horse didn't stop rutting into her until her master brought the riding crop down on his ass. "Stop, stop!" He shouted, pulling a string across Ivan's nose ring. The horse relented, leaving her cunt shivering and warm as he finally pulled out.

"God, you're both making such a mess. Even on the floor." Her master's mock disgust fell on deaf ears. Buzzcunt wanted more, even as her exhaustion had her head hanging from the frame. The coyote brought Ivan before her face, exposing his member drenched in seed and juices. Removing her gag and giving the stallion a stepping stool, he slapped the fat and resting cock across her face, staining her fur with their fluids.

"Clean it off," Mark commanded. Buzzcunt opened her mouth wide with acceptance, letting the bound stallion push his cock down her maw. Her tongue lapped where it could underneath the mass of rehardening flesh, tasting every inch of not only him, but herself. She heard her master speak, but outside of any order to stop it fell on deaf ears.

Ivan's rod filled and stretched her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, tears leaking across her cheekfur, but still she suckled and tasted every bit until pulled aside. Free, she coughed and gagged, silenced by the gag bound between her teeth once again.

"Nice and clean, good." The coyote wiggled the bat that was Ivan's dick. "Gonna need that tongue for the floor after this." He led Ivan back around her, and soon felt the cold slimy embrace of a finger across her butt. She didn't need to relax, not after her master trained her ass so thoroughly, but she did so on reflex for him and for the rod bracing against her backside.

"Hmm?" Mark's phone pinged. "Oh, fuck I guess that's today. Ivan, stand still." Buzzcunt's ears twitched as she heard chains unlock behind her, followed by two heavy hands pressing against her backcheeks and spreading them wide. Her master returned to her gaze, a small smile across his lip as he braced her chin. "Turns out I got a date tonight, so I'll be leaving you in Ivan's hands until this evening. Don't disappoint me."

Buzzcunt whined in protest but her master did not listen. She watched him leave out of the corner of her eye, begging him to stay. She needed him, needed that sadism he carried to humiliate and torment her with each step.

But his cruelty continued in harsh reality as he ascended the steps, leaving her with Ivan's cock slowly pushing its way into her stretched ass. It was only with the roar of the garage door that Buzzcunt embraced his order. Because she was not a pet to be loved. She was simply property to be used however the owner pleased.

And nothing made her masochistic heart happier, as she cried into Ivan's poundings.