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I woke to the grey dawn, a pale and gibbous offering this early just barely insinuating it's way into my bedroom like an assassin; and to the figure of a real assassin, his eyes wide and staring. I felt the touch of steel, and in spite of my predicament, could not resist the urge to see the instrument of my ending. The blade shimmered with a faint glow of sunlight, and I felt it press harder against my windpipe, the tip biting into flesh. A sharp pain grew, but I held still in spite of the torment. My eyes would have to do their work alone, and I blinked to help them adjust to the dim light.

My nose told the tale just as my eyes took in the form in front of me. Both told of horse; the pungent smell of stallion, but in this case, with an overlay of sweat and rum. Not just any horse then.

In spite of myself, I found my muzzle forming a slight grin. If it were to be so, I was just a little bit pleased in a perverse way that it was this horse who had come.

"Well, good morning James...you will have to forgive me for not rising to greet you..."

His eyes went to slits, and his muzzle gritted. Then he spat the words, and a goodly amount of spittle too, which flew across the air to land on my coverlet.

"Shut your muzzle you...you..."

"My Lord will suffice..." I could not resist even now. His hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles white, and he ground the tip into my neck. I could feel the slight trickle of blood. My voice lost some of its composure, harsh and rasping, but I was proud to say I could still give as good as I got even in my current predicament.

Perhaps it was the sure knowledge that I deserved it that gave me such strength.

"Impetuous as always James."

"Shut it My Lord...now how do you want to die?"

His eyes were grim. And yet, even shuttered with terrible purpose, they shone under the darkness with the most intense blue I had ever seen in my life. Except, of course, for one other, last night...

*****

The youngster stood awkwardly but defiantly. I had to give him credit for that. I offered him a glass of wine, interested to see if he would take it. He refused with a slight shake of his head.

It was such a beautiful head.

"Go on Matthew. It may help you to relax."

He met my eyes, for which I admired his courage. Even though he tried to hide them a little, behind his forelock, the strands of pure black contrasting with his deep brown coat. He was a perfect Bay, black mane, black tail, black ears. He even had short featherings at his forearms and fetlocks, a small detail I found especially alluring. I was looking forward to feeling their touch.

His eyes were wary, but determined. Like him.

I held the wine out, an offering of sorts, but he did not budge, so I placed the glass by the bedside and took in the view instead. He was magnificent. Tall and lean, the perfect picture of a young stallion. His eighteen summers had served him well. He had taken some pains to dress his best it seemed, wearing his Sunday outfit as if preparing to hear our Parson drone on a sermon on obedience. An obedient one this colt, and dutiful. After all, he was here.

"Let me get a look at you then. Turn around."

His eyes flared for a second but he controlled them well. He gave me a slightly arrogant stare, but complied, performing a slow circle for my benefit. I could not resist the urge to give him a small round of applause, and was rewarded with the most delightful blush.

"I see the work on the farm has had its benefits young colt. You are a well-built young stallion if ever I saw one."

"T..thank ee my Lord..."

"Please, you may call me Richard. My Lord seems so formal, and your Grace even worse. Much better just to call me Richard, considering what we have planned, hmm?"

He gave a little shudder then. His mane twitched, and I watched his tail. It swished rapidly, as if swatting imaginary flies. He had bound it in deep blue ribbon, the same ribbon as he had used to bind his mane at the end. It suited him so well; deep blue, like the colour of his eyes...

"I...I cannot my Lord...please..."

I gave a small sigh. One thing at a time. He was standing rigid, with his arms folded in front of his chest, every fibre on alert. This would take some patience.

"You are beautiful Matthew. Such beauty should not be so...strained, as you are."

He looked at me again. I expected him to look down, to study his most shapely hooves, but he looked at me instead. I wondered what he saw; a middle aged wolf, richly dressed, fur a little grey. Did he see me, or did he see salvation, I wondered?

"Are you still determined Matthew?"

He nodded. I watched his muzzle bob, wanting to nibble it so very much at that moment, the chin beginning to twitch with the beginnings of distress. A distressed young stallion; delicious.

"You are a brave stallion. And noble; I hope your father appreciates your sacrifice..."

His eyes went wide and he finally moved a little, hands out in supplication.

"Oh no my Lord! I...I cannot tell him..."

"How do you think to explain the money then Matthew? Your farm is so far in debt, he must know you stand to be evicted. He has been warned enough, though it has not stopped him drinking. He will be expecting my bailiffs any day now. If all is suddenly well...he will know something has happened."

The colt was pleading now with his eyes. I sighed and smiled at him. He really was that naïve, and yet, I found it merely made him all the more delectable. When he came to me to plead on behalf of his father, because the broken drunken stallion could not plead his own case, I had been mightily impressed. Since his mother had died, the farmer had lost his will to live it seemed. The colt had been keeping things going, but it was not enough, and I knew the cost. Then I looked in his eyes. One look at those beautiful blue pools and I knew what I would do.

The colt had some brains, and some courage. But not that much wit it seemed, for he had not thought it through to its logical conclusion. Impetuous, but not good at thinking things through. So like his father.

"Please my Lord...tell him...tell him you decided to forgive our debt, out of generosity. He will believe it of you..."

Now I was intrigued, though I did not want to show it. I highly doubted the stallion would believe it at all, but Instead I smiled indulgently and let the colt think he had convinced me.

"I have decided to forgive your debt Matthew...for a price. As we discussed."

The youngster swallowed again, chin quivering. If he kept that up, I was going to have to kiss it.

"I want to see what I am buying. Undress for me."

Now his head dropped, and his ears too. They flattened out sideways, and his body shook but he seemed to give a sigh and gird his loins. Mine were already well girded, I could feel the tip of my cock spreading from it's place in my sheath. The hunger built as I watched him steel himself, and I reached for the wine to slake my own thirst.

"Go on lad..."

Off came his shirt, placed neatly on the dresser. He hesitated, then dropped his trousers neatly to the floor. He was wearing no underthings, bless him, and when he stepped out of his pants and placed them beside his shirt, he was naked as the day he was born. He resumed his wary stance, arms folded in front of his chest, now staring defiantly through his forelock.

I downed the remainder of the wine in one gulp, feeling my blood burn, and not from the alcohol.

He was magnificent after all. Arms bulging with muscle, narrow waist, thick thighs and almost dainty fetlocks. His plump testicles hung down in a rich black leather sac, above a promising sheath with a wide opening hinting at more promising delights inside. He had a small patch of black fur above his sheath, leading in a trail to his navel, and a patch of white coat between his pectorals. Otherwise his coat was a delightful shimmering dark brown, except...

"Now turn around again..."

Yes, he had it too. On his rump, over the left buttock, a patch where his coat gave way to spots of brown over lighter reddish-grey. I had seen a similar patch once before, and it almost made me cry to see it now. Like his father in all ways it seemed.

He stood facing away from me and stopped, ears still flat, tail swishing wildly, head hanging down. I had to comfort him...and other things.

Crossing to his side, I took his chin in my paw and lifted it. I studied his eyes, blue and wide.

"Never be ashamed to be naked Matthew. A sculptor would pay a fortune to capture this in marble, and yet the stone would never do you justice."

He pulled away, nostrils flaring, but stood still and closed his eyes. It seemed this would be a slow process.

"Arms by your side colt."

He obeyed, fingers clenched in fists by his hips. I stood behind him, steadying him as I gripped his shoulders, calming his shakes. My paws began tracing his body, feeling every muscle. When I touched his chest, he gasped, and I let my claws play with his pert nipples, feeling them swell under my touch. His tail flicked my legs, tantalising. Down his chest, and down his belly, the abdominals fluttering like trapped butterflies as I found the line of coarse hairs leading to his promised land.

He had not dropped yet, but I knew how to work a stallion. He would find that soon enough.

"Ahhhh!"

I let my clawtips just tease the underside of his scrotum. His testicles danced, uncertain yet eager participants in our play, and I stroked them harder, finally cupping them to squeeze ever so gently. This one would need care lest he bolt. My other paw found a use then, one pad lazily tracing the lips of his sheath, coaxing his erection into view. I knew he would not resist, and soon felt the heat of his flare poking from the opening like a cobra drawn from it's basket by the snake-charmer's song.

Still his eyes were closed, though I felt him give a shudder when my fingers found his flare and stroked that delicious colt flesh into raptures.

"Ohh...ohhhhhhhh....ahhhhh..." he was a vocal one this colt. Time to see how vocal.

"Have you been touched by another male before Matthew?"

"N...no my Lord."

"I wager you touch this often enough yourself though...when did you last pleasure yourself..."

"Please my Lord!"

I gave his flare a pinch, drawing a whinny of complaint, but no loss of erection. He was well on the way, and for the moment I would keep him on the edge, my fingers feeling his length. He was hard as steel, and the heat almost burned my fingers. A wide flare, eager and excited, then a nicely tapered shaft, with a prominent medial bulge. He was perfect. I worshipped slowly, stroking his length, squeezing his scrotum and enjoying his gasps. I liked to play though.

"Let me guess colt...down at the river when you go to bathe, when you think no one is looking. While the sunlight dapples your body through the willows and you taste an apple stolen from the orchard and feel the sun dry your coat and you grip your colthood and imagine one of the parlour maids from the mansion holding you there..."

"Oh God..."

His whole body tensed again, but he did not open his eyes. I felt his length give a jerk though, and the flare opened wider while a little drop of liquid slid from the tip.

"I know Matthew..."

"How?"

"Ahhh that would be telling."

Of course I knew. It was my greatest pleasure when I had been his age, joining my fellow youngsters by the river, before I had become My Lord his Grace the Duke and had merely been Richard, or Wolfie, and life had been a much more carefree and idyllic thing. And there I had found my stallion...

The one I was holding now felt so good, and the Gods of memory needed to be propitiated. I had to have it all.

Still gripping his cock, I regretfully left his scrotum for other lands. My fingers slid between his buttocks, the tensed muscles clenching and relaxing, and delved into his crevice. I knew what I was searching for, though it took him a moment to realise. His gasp and nicker were full of outrage but he still did not move, nor open his eyes. I had to give him credit for composure.

There is nothing in this world as beautiful as a virgin stallion tailhole. And this one...ahhhhh.

"Stop resisting colt...there..."

"Arghhhhhhh!"

I slid into him, just one finger. He was tight, so tight. Even with some spit on my finger, it was a struggle to enter him, and took long patient work until I was in him to the knuckle. His tunnel felt like a furnace, one trying to sever my finger at the root. I stroked playfully, finding his nut, and pressed. His cock gave another jerk, and a droplet of clear fluid shot from the tip. His nickering cry made my heart sing.

"So tight, and so sensitive...just like your father..."

Now his eyes opened, and he turned his head suddenly to stare into my eyes. I held his gaze unblinking for long moments, suddenly uncertain. I did not know what possessed me to tell him that.

"My...my..."

"Yes colt. I deflowered him too, when we were your age. I wonder which of you is more beautiful? It is not an easy contest to judge." I could only think some inner demon made me tell him that, but I enjoyed it. And the thought lingered with erotic portent. Father and son...both mine in a way no one would ever match. Both beautiful.

He hung his head and moaned. I bent forward to nibble at his neck, licking and biting playfully as I fondled his swollen nut. His cock strained, liquid dripping from the tip. I felt his body tense, and the power I wielded over him felt like the ultimate drug. So many longings, and I could have them all.

My fingers left his depths, and he shuddered in frustrated need. I gripped his length just under the flare, not stroking, just holding as he calmed. I laughed at him then, not even ashamed to be using him so, and licked his cheek. Tears tasted salt fresh on my tongue and I savoured them.

I remembered other tears then too, on another stallion beside the river, but shook my head to banish the thoughts.

"On the bed colt. On all fours like a mare. Time I think for your mounting."

He moved quickly enough. He even raised his tail invitingly, giving me a perfect view of his crevice, from dock to scrotum, with the low hanging testicles and even lower hanging mass of his cock dangling between wide spread legs. His hooves shone in the candle light, and I reached out to stroke his feathering, feeling the hairs surprisingly coarse and harsh. I had expected them to be as soft as down, but it seemed a hard life needed coarser clothing.

His little hole though; ahhh it was incredible. A little wrinkled opening, winking at me in the half light, and so vulnerable. I had to worship first, and by now at least I knew how to please a stallion.

"Ohhhh Richard..."

I could not describe the intense pleasure of hearing him moan my name, or the intense pleasure of tasting his fine virgin hole. I poked my muzzle in greedily, licking, suckling, from his scrotum to his dock, before finally spearing my tongue into him as lapping at his hole. I felt him spread, and relax. Alas, I had not known how when I was young, and many a pained yelp had come from my stallion. Not this time, or at least, not as much. Instead I felt him spread in ecstacy and smelt the tang of colt seed as his cock dripped a solid stream of pleasure into the coverlet.

When I felt him about to crest I stopped. I could not resist any longer, and threw my clothes across the room. He did not look up, head buried in a pillow, but he did not move and his tail remained high and proud. I pulled him back to the edge of the bed, with his prominent rump pushed back for my ease, and finally rested the tip of my wolfcock on his well-licked opening.

Alas, his ease did not last. Try as I might, I could not enter easily, and he shook even as he remained kneeling, his tail flicking nervously above his back. I decided on another tack.

"On your back colt."

He obeyed reluctantly, wondering at this change, and he was soon to know his fate. Laid on his back at the end of the bed, I raised his shapely legs over my shoulders, hooves pointing at my ceiling. His tail swished against my legs, tickling my fur, and I aimed my tip at his puckered hole again, but this time he could not retreat to another place. This time he had to watch.

"Keep your eyes open now Matthew."

And they were blue. I wanted to dive inside. Instead I rested my muzzle on his, and suddenly opened my lips and forced my tongue into him. His eyes went wider as he felt the kiss, his first, and then they went wider still as he felt another first and I pressed relentlessly on his pucker and the tapered end of my cock suddenly breached his defences and sank into the hottest tightest depths in my life. Yes, even his father had not felt this good...at least not in flesh.

I gripped his shoulders to calm him as he struggled, waiting with my length half buried in his hole. When I felt him relax a little, I pulled back an inch then resumed, in, out, in, out until I felt my knot, already swollen, against his muscled ring. I would not be taking him like that yet, I knew, and instead began a long slow deflowering, letting him feel the caress of flesh on flesh, all the while kissing while our eyes remained staring into each other's souls. I watched his anguish turn to something else, or at least something additional, with each passing thrust. Then I gripped his still-swollen length and brought him to his long denied climax just as I emptied into his depths and licked his neck and bit hard enough to draw blood in my own wild climax.

I had him twice more that night, laid on his belly instead, with my body over his feeling the rasp of colt fur on my chest and licking the nape of his neck as I drew more unbidden release from his still erect colthood. On the last one I finally could not hold back and tied the colt, ignoring his cries of shock and pain, lost to my own needs instead. Complete and sated, I held him and whispered in his ears, now at least no longer flat but flicking playfully as I nibbled the tips.

"More beautiful than your father colt..."

He had not reacted, and I had not known why I told him that. For it was not true...

*****

Now the one who truly was stood at my bed with his knife at my throat and I looked into his ruined face and wondered.

What by God made me think it so? Not his face now, wrecked by drink and the passing of the years. Yet I had the strangest desire to kiss it...

"What did you do! By God what did you do?!"

The tip of the knife dug into flesh. I could feel my pulse hammering in my skull. And yet, I did not fear. Instead it made my tongue free, like an imbecile.

"He is a good lad James. And more stallion than you these days..."

The stallion whinnied then, eyes wide and red. And then he seemed to sniff the air. His nostrils flared, drinking in scents. I knew what he would smell; I had been bathing in it all night, like nectar.

The eyes went wide than shuttered again, almost grey.

"You!"

"What, are you jealous James?"

His whinny almost shattered the window pane. I expected the knife, but instead he seemed to draw himself up. His fist pulled back and moved with speed and power. Pain exploded in my muzzle, and I saw stars.

"Want this do you?"

He gripped my arm as I fought for control. I felt my body turned, and my arm yanked suddenly and painfully behind my back. I gripped the bed for support, my claws scrabbling on the cotton as blood dripped onto the white linen.

"I should kill you."

The knife was back, pressed to my throat. I felt him over me, my body still naked after the night's pleasures, still covered in my seed and colt seed and the stench of our mating. I could hear him sniffing me, smelling the evidence of our night. I knew what was to come.

Then I felt him fumbling with his clothing, and the hot blunt mass of a stallion's flare on my pucker. My tail was lifted roughly, painfully, and I yelped and closed my eyes tight anticipating the pain. Another first time it seemed...one I realised I had craved so long.

When I realised he was not there any more, I turned to see him kneeling on the floor beside the bed, the knife in his hand. And he was crying; and once again I tasted the salt of stallion tears as I held my erstwhile assassin, licking away his pains.

"He has gone Wolfie."

Now it was my turn to gasp.

"What?! Where?"

"To Portsmouth. He took our horse, and left before sunrise. He had everything packed, everything ready it seemed. He is going to take to sea on an Indiaman, or so his letter said. He told me...he told me he had taken care of everything with you, that you had agreed to forgive the debt. But I knew you Wolfie...I knew you would never help me, not after...after I married Margaret, not without extracting some price. Why did it have to be this?"

His fist scythed through the darkness and caught me on the muzzle again. I went down like an anvil, my head ringing, spitting blood onto the carpet and one tooth loosened by the stallion's anger.

"I should have killed you my Lord...and may God damn me for failing when I had the chance. And I hope God may damn you half as much as he has me for loving you and that's no error. "

I watched the stallion shake and begin to trot unsteadily from the room, his words ringing in my ears, and I was still sitting on the floor beside the bed with the world rolling like the deck of a frigate on a following sea, when he gave a sudden snort and stood stock still.

"What...what in God's name are you doing with that? How...how did you find it?"

I followed his gaze, to a spot on my dresser. Where the colt had placed his clothes last night, now I saw something else, something I had not seen there before.

An old wooden carving of a horse, I had it made for James when we were eighteen, for his birthday. That was before he told me he was going to marry the sweet giggling mare who was the blacksmith's daughter and my heart broke into fragments. And around the horse's neck, the colt had tied one of the blue ribbons from his mane. He must have left it on the dresser, unseen in the commotion.

I never imagined my stallion would have kept it all this time; I thought he had forgotten me as surely as I had ached at his absence, and yet...

And then I began to laugh, even though my stallion stared at me as if I had gone mad. Perhaps I had, for many years, but now I seemed to be coming to my senses.

"What in the devil has gotten into you Wolf....I mean, my Lord."

"Nothing Horsey. And please...no more my Lord. Just thinking that your lad is not like you after all..."

And I had that thought in my mind all the way to Portsmouth. I knew I had to get him back, even if only to congratulate him. But also to ask him to forgive me.

Whether his father would or not, only time would tell; but I knew I would do my best to find out.