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Sarak 3: Sarak's New Venture

by Gryphon

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© Copyright 2013 - Gryphon - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f+; F/m; ponygirls; harness; bitgag; boots; tails; naked; outdoors; transform; sex; oral; climax; cons; X

(story continues from )

Part 3: Sarak's New Venture

All the ponies had spent a restful night, all complete and safe within themselves and with their new master, whilst Sarak himself had slept a deep and eventful night, full of prancing ponygirls, and sexual dalliances. He woke in the morning, and after splashing water on his face, he again went in search of apples for the ponies, pausing on his way to relieve himself, and noticing that this morning his penis looked bigger than normal. Strange he thought, staring at himself as he urinated into the bushes, watching the steady flow coming from what was now a hardening of his shaft and a tightening of his scrotum. The last drops of urine were now being forced down the length of his penis, hard and straight out before him. Trying to ignore this fact he carried on to the apple trees with a huge bulge forced into his breaches, and there managed to collect enough apples to feed the ponygirls.

By his return he was almost flaccid again, although on seeing these six beautiful ponygirls before him, he again hardened and burst out from his breaches. The first pony turned her rump towards him, looking over her shoulder, and flicking her rump managed to loop her tail up and out of the way, as Sarak walked forward and entered her warm and wet tunnel in one deep plunge. He groaned at the feeling and she neighed loudly as she felt him all through her insides, then forced herself back against his hardness as between them they set up a steady rocking motion before Sarak came.

Sarak took two steps back away from the first ponygirl, and the next in line quickly dropped to her knees behind the exposed rump and the wet dribbling vagina in front of her face. She leant forward savouring the wetness of her sister pony, tongue flicking out and licking the cum from her legs, licking the cum as it slipped out between the pink enflamed lips, then burying her face into the ponygirl in front, her tongue straining forward to reach the clitoris, allowing the pony to come herself, and with a scream through her mouthpiece, she came and came.

Meanwhile as Sarak watched this, two other ponies dropped to their knees on either side of his still erect penis, and they licked him from both sides, removing all traces of both his and the other ponies juices. Sarak stood there as the two of them looked after him. Their mouths sliding up and around him, and in turn taking him into their mouths and rolling him around in their mouths. He was in awe watching as the ponies serviced him and looked after each other, and in fact it was the first release these girls had had for a long time, for they were now away from the rigid controls of the Masan and were at last able to show their true colours and feelings.

Half the morning had gone by the time Sarak decided they should move on, and he quickly went about putting the ponygirls into their now repaired and road worthy outfits, dressing them up with the bells and the head feathers, and loading them with the repacked and weight shared backpacks. The ponies literally champed at the bit to get going, and as he fitted the trail rope through their respective headgear, putting them together as a line, each one looked at him with their large eyes and dropped their heads to rub against his shoulders. They were showing their appreciation of their new master and their willingness to serve him as they best could. They left the trees and went off down the road, heading towards the next village, and the start of his new trading adventures with his own team of ponygirls.

* * * *

A month passed very quickly, a month where he had traded at many villages, had bought and sold, and was currently well in pocket, for each village he had managed to buy something that was value to the next village, and thus his worth increased. The ponygirls marched along with heads held high, for each day he treated them properly, feeding them, taking them to their toilet, changing and repairing the tack as required, and generally looking after them with a respect, for they carried his new found wares and trading items. On occasion he had seen a bauble or a gemstone that he had particularly liked, and now all the ponygirls had some form of finery to show off.

The days passed quickly, and as the group marched in line towards the next village, Sarak hummed a tune to himself, leading the lead ponygirl by a rope with the rest marching along behind. As they improved in their well being with the attention Sarak took to feed them and help them along, they grew in strength and stature, their legs all pacing as one in tune and in harmony with each other. He strode along, a different person from what he had been a few weeks earlier, relishing in the sight of his ponies, and as he walked, he talked to them, telling them how proud he was of them, and how he was going to look after them.

Night was beginning to fall, and spying a ruin a little distance from the roadway he led his troop over with the intention of camping for the night. As he approached and seeing a wisp of smoke coming up, realised the ruins were already tenanted. Loosening his sword and knife he approached warily, until he could see the small fire in the centre compound area, with an old woman sitting in close attendance. She beckoned him in towards the fire, and Sarak led the ponies around until they were sheltered under the lee of a ruined wall.

He kept a worried eye on the old lady, while he took the packs from the ponies and tied them to various loose points for the night, then taking nose bags from one pack he filled each with a sufficient amount of grain and dried fruit, before placing them over each respective head. He also placed a bowl on the ground and filled it with water from another of the packs, leaving the girls harnessed until he had decided on whether to stay or not, seeing the ruins were lived in by the old woman. Taking some bread and cheese from the pack and a wine skin he went across and sat opposite the woman, offering her some food and wine, whilst introducing himself.

She welcomed him to her fire and her ruins, and shared the evening repast with Sarak, as the sun slipped beneath the horizon and darkness fell all around. It was a bit later in the evening, that she asked where was the Masan, the previous owner of the ponies, and why was there only six now, for there had been seven a few months earlier when they had travelled in the opposite direction. Realising that the old woman knew of these ponygirls and the Masan, he told her the whole truth of his battle with the Masan and his eventual inheritance of the girls. She in turn listened, and with only a few nods and smiles encouraged him to divulge his story, and as they shared a small drop of wine from a skin, the tale unfolded and became a drama to the old woman.

When Sarak had finished the telling she looked up at him sitting opposite through the haze of the smoke, and she spoke with him on the needs and requirements of the ponygirls. She spoke of grooming and toiletries, of correct tack and procedures in handling, of their abilities and strengths in the carrying of the packs, and finally of their loyalties and their hatreds. Then, whilst Sarak sat, still, stunned at this turn of events, and the intricacies of ponygirl life being unfolded and displayed before him by this old woman, she stood and walked towards the ponygirls tied around the walls.

The girls saw her approaching, and with a tingle of nerves they all started to move around and step away from her approach, their shoulders tensing as she in turn grasped each mouth and inspected their teeth around the mouth bits, stroked their buttocks and examined both the tack and the way each pony was fitted within the leather straps. Sarak watched as she inspected all the ponygirls, even down to the examination of their tails, and the respective butt plugs, nudging each one around seeing the fitting was adequate. Then, with a look at Sarak, she started to remove their packs, and when Sarak moved to help she stopped him with a hand and a deliberate and scornful glance in his direction.

She removed all the packs, showing great strength from within the bundled clothes she wore, not in one instance did she act the age she appeared, and then in turn she removed all their respective tack, their plugs, their mouthpieces, until they all stood there, quite naked and unadorned in any way. The old woman motioned for the girls to follow her, and she led them through a ruined doorway into a barn behind where they had stood, and on returning she closed the door leaving them behind. She returned to where Sarak still sat by the fire, a look of stunned apprehension on his face, as he tried to understand what had happened before him.

“I am Ki’Antha,” she started, “born of Kings and Queens, cross bred through life, more animal than human, not old and still not young. I am the last of my line, last of the free Kishasa that once ran wild across this country, and the last of the few that were once the proud and the true.”

As she spoke, Sarak watched in amazement as her aged face changed and took on a more younger gleam, watched as her squat figure lengthened and her back straightened, watched as she grew in stature and youth, until before him stood a tall and beautiful woman with long flowing golden hair. Then she stepped free from the old clothes and stood proudly before him, naked and glorious.

Sarak could not help but gaze upon her tight up-thrusting breasts, the nipples hard and erect, and could not help but glance down between her thighs where he espied a mound covered with golden hair, and a faint hint of a parting beneath. He started to heat from the pure woman before him, his manhood bulging. She turned and walked away from the fire, his eyes rolling around and stroking his sight across her taught buttocks. She stopped, turned and walked back to stand over him, casting a shadow on him from the fire at her back.

“Listen to me’” she said, “we of the Kishasa were once bountiful across these plains, but the tribes of the Masan, caught us and trained us to be mindless ponygirls and slaves to them, for we were once not as you see, but running free, wind in our faces, grass on our feet, and only the heavens and the stars as our masters. I have searched many places, and many of the Masan, looking to rid ourselves of this yoke, but until now, there has never been anyone other than a Masan in charge of the ponygirls. You have broken the run, you have become one with your charges, you have come to accept and love each and everyone of those ponygirls you brought here, and they in turn have come to love you.”

“Be aware though, that what you see, is the ponygirls we have become, and be aware that our very selves have been changed by the necessities of our capture and our living. We are not what you see before you, we are not a two legged human, for we are shape shifters as well, but as we transgressed through the years our ability to change has escaped the remaining ponygirls, and as they descended more and more into their servitude they forgot the ways and they remain as ponygirls. But, within each one is the ability to change, to shape shift into their real selves, and as the last of the line of the free Kishasa, I have the ability to make the shape shift also. I can, with your acceptance, allow my gift of shape shifting to release you and also me, back to the plains and back to the Kishasa.”

“Inside the room, where I placed the ponygirls, lies your future Sarak. Your future as the Master of these ponies, if you so desire, for I can bring forth their shape shifting abilities, and I can give you my gift of the shape shift so that you too can become as one with the ponies. You will learn the power of the shape shift, feel the ways of the Kishasa, run with the night and lay with the beast. But, dear man, dear wonderful and human man, this will change you forever, for the Kishasa are now and will be forever, and yet, tonight is now and only now.”

At that last comment, Ki’Antha sat back down beside him in front of the fire, the light of the flames flickering across her face as she stared deeply into the fire, and Sarak in turn gazed in wonder at the beauty sitting alongside him, naked and bold. Sarak rose to get his blanket from his pack. He came back, and, kneeling, placed it across the shoulders of this woman. As he did this, she tipped her head back and their lips met in a fleeting touch. Sarak felt his heart lift at the touch. Leaning forward he pushed her to the ground, his blanket between her and the dirt of the compound floor, as she in turn opened her legs and wrapped them around his thighs, pulling him in towards her and crushing her down with the weight of his body.

His manhood sprung forth with little help from Ki’Antha’s hands and within just a brief second he was inside her, slipping deeply into her very wet and warm inner self. They groaned together as he took her there on the ground. He rode her with his cock, penetrating as deeply as he could, forcing himself deeper and deeper. Ki’Antha took the pounding of the mating. She smiled up into the raised body of Sarak above hers as he held himself up on straightened arms, thumping his cock home on every thrust. She felt herself rising to the pressures, and gave in to the feeling of release as it mounted within her. With her hands either side of his head she pulled him down into that final kiss.

Sarak fell forward towards her, spinning down into the web of deception she had wove around him, for as he fell, he fell into her realm, and the world around him ceased and he stood there on a green grassed and verdant plain, fields of sunflowers abound, tall trees of oak and spruce, a river glistening and gleaming as it bubbled across stones and rocks on its journey, and there amongst all this magnificence grazed six mares. Six tall mares wandered in the lush grass, browsing and eating, raising their heads from time to time and tossing their manes and nodding their heads. The land was at peace with itself, and the mares were at peace with the land. Sarak looked down upon his mares, and a shock ran through as he realised they were his six horses, and turning his head he looked upon another golden horse standing heavily alongside, for she was large of womb, and almost ready to drop foal, and as he looked upon her, he heard a voice within his mind say..

“Yes Sarak, we are all Kishasa now, for our mating in the other place allowed the shape shift to occur, and we are home at last. This place is the realm of the shape shift, the realm of our peoples. Now that you are here it is your realm also, for look upon yourself Sarak, look and realise that you are now what you are, look and confirm that you are really the bold and magnificent stallion that stands before me, that has sired a foal within me, and holds sway over those other mares. For you, Sarak, are now King in this land, master to all that dwells upon this land and around it. There are no other stallions, there are no other mares, and it was your love of the ponygirls that brought me to you. Your kindness to their needs and requirements, your devotion to them, and your defence and their acceptance of you, all caused me to seek you out and seduce you. For it is only by the action of mating between a human and a Kishasa that the powers of the shape shift can allow a transfer to take place, and that we did in the other place. You are now a shape shifter also, and can slip between the realm of your past and the realm we live in with ease. These realms are ours to travel as we please. And as you will discover, there are other realms also, that abound with new lives and places to see. I have tricked you my sire, using your desire over my human flesh, to accept your coupling with me, to accept your semen into my womb, to father the foal that grows within me, and that will become your legacy to this land. For it is you, Sarak, that has brought life back to the Kishasa through your care and devotion to the ponygirls. For this I apologise, and could I kneel before you, I would, to accept your punishment for this deception, and await your demands of retribution. But at this exact moment in time, time is frozen, and I show you a brief glimpse with my mind of what could be in the future, for my mind melds with yours at the nearness of the peak of our lovemaking, before the fire, in that small and ruined place. Your time is still there Sarak, you are not here yet, and your decision awaits you. Thus I release you to the decision.”

Sarak fell forward towards her, spinning down into the reality, his mind at a nexus between conviction and doubt, a clashing of opposites in the moment of time, caught and held on the slip of the wind. Sarak lay fully on top of Ki’Antha, his body weight crushing her beneath him, her breasts flattened against his, her thighs parted, and his body buried deep between, and as he stayed his motions, his hardness stilled within her. She looked up into the patterns of the fire reflected within his firm and hard eyes, looking for the mind and the decision within, whilst he looked at the large oval eyes, wide and open, aware and innocent, framed by her beauty, her cheeks, her golden hair. Her skin glowed with the radiance of the fire, the wind blew softly across bringing the night smells, and the breeze carried another noise also, that of the six ponygirls within the barn at their side. And as Sarak listened to the noises he heard a mixture of human voices, gentle and lulling, plus the noises of the ponies as they shuffled and snuffled around the confines of the barn. Then, as if the world was to end, he withdrew from within her, rising to his knees between her legs, his penis hard and full, jutting out before him.

He looked down at Ki’Antha lying before him, their eyes combining in a mix of unsaid emotions and meanings, but as their minds had linked before, so Ki’Antha knew his decision and his demands for her deception. She rose from beneath him and turned, placing herself on her hands and widespread knees, before edging back towards his manhood, placing her outer lips at the tip, awaiting his response. He in turn leant forward, covering her back and placing his hands beside hers on the ground, then with a gentle push he entered her from behind, her lips swelling out and allowing him full entry. As before, his passion rose, and her submissiveness belied, he emptied his seed within. They crossed that moment of time, and as they climaxed together, a watcher would have been hard pressed to see between the veils of smoke from the camp fire whether there were two humans making love, or was there a stallion mounting a mare in the streams of smoke.

Morning came too soon for the lovers. They woke from a brief sleep, after spending the night taking each other in every position imaginable, in every way possible, and probably in some ways never heard of, but as they awoke Sarak remembered last night. He remembered the dream, and the story of the shape shifters, of their abilities to change shape and be in accord with the land, and how Ki’Antha had told him between passionate embraces of how the Masan had caught the ponygirls. How they had forgotten the ways of the Kishasa, and how she had searched until she had found him, a human who loved his ponygirls. How she had wanted to mate with him, to allow the girls to remember, and become one with the Kishasa again. She also told him that from first sight, as he entered the compound, she had loved him, and that she wanted to stay with him, to be his wife, his mate and the mother to his children, and that all he had to do was accept her as a shape shifter.

Sarak remembered these things while he walked across to the barn, where the ponygirls were resting, for he had to feed them, and care for them, as was it his duty to them, but also because he cherished them. Sarak entered the barn, which was still dark with the shadows of the night, for the sun had not risen yet, and as he entered he saw that standing amongst the straw, were not the six ponygirls he knew to be there, but six full grown mares, all six standing tall, heads high with their manes cascading across their shoulders. The six mares looked at Sarak through large eyes fringed with lashes, as in shock he turned and stumbled out of the room, only to see standing in the centre of the courtyard, a tall, broad and gorgeous golden mare. He stumbled and fell forward when the shape shift came, for the mind meld with Ki’Antha had been deep, and planted within was the command to allow himself to escape the perils and become one with himself. He changed into the stallion.


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