Pride (The Copper Horse book 2) (gay erotic romance pony play BDSM)

by K. A. Merikan

  The Copper Horse: Pride

  by K.A. Merikan

  Volume 2 in the ponyplay erotic romance trilogy: The Copper Horse

  London

  1907, twenty years into the zombie Plague

  After being kidnapped into slavery by a powerful crime family member - Erik Dal, Reuben is slowly adjusting to his new life. He is now Copper, Erik’s proud stallion, serving in any way his master might require - from pulling a cart, to pleasures in the bedroom. But his journey has only begun, and as he becomes increasingly attached to Erik, his devotion will be evaluated. From getting bred by another owner’s stallion to Erik marking him forever, each of Reuben’s decisions makes him more of a pet and less of a human.

  Becoming Erik’s horse isn’t just about getting pampered, wearing hooves and tack, or providing the master with pleasure. It becomes a violent game of prize and punishment, but when Reuben understands he too has leverage - Erik’s attachment to him - he becomes an active player in the negotiations of his stay at the mansion. But with his master’s grand annual birthday party approaching, his loyalty will be tested like never before, and the tasks he is to perform might prove too much.

  POSSIBLE SPOILERS:

  *

  Genre: m/m dark erotic romance, bdsm

  Length: ~90,000 words (book 2 in the trilogy)

  Themes: class differences, slavery, steampunk, alternative lifestyle, Victorian, master/servant, captivity, ponyplay, animalization, heavy kink, organized crime, violence, power play

  Erotic content: explicit m/m erotic scenes (including ponyplay)

  The Copper Horse: Pride

  K.A. Merikan

  Acerbi & Villani ltd.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

  Text copyright © 2015 K.A. Merikan

  All Rights Reserved

  http://KAMerikan.com

  Cover by

  Natasha Snow

  http://natashasnow.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Zombie Gentlemen Universe

  Other Books

  Prologue

  “I love you.”

  Erik stared at the wall, his muscles and bones as stiff as the statues sprinkled all around his bedroom, but there was a fire burning deep in his chest. The liquid heat drizzled down his body with the blood in his veins, melting the tension at a rapid pace. What was he to say?

  He'd lost all hope for love the moment he'd lost Prancer so many years ago. He'd given up on true companionship after that. He was a Dal, and he could trust no one to become his true lover, and so he chose to take what he believed was within reach. Beautiful men with strong backs, thick thighs and tight asses paraded through Erik’s stable, and those who could not adjust to what he required were let go.

  Chestnut was one of those who'd come around and even found pleasure in living Erik’s fantasies, but to hear such a thing from him was enough to choke the life out of Erik’s heart. Slowly he turned around to meet the dark gaze of his stallion. Eyes warm like hot chocolate. Nothing like the savage Erik had taken into his house a short few months ago.

  “All that you give me, master… I can’t even comprehend it all,” Chestnut said and stepped closer to Erik before kneeling on the floor. The angles of his face were so perfect it hurt, a straight nose and lips that belonged on an idealized Greek statue. And no wonder: Chestnut had the body of a God, muscled and smooth, with just a dusting of hair that matched the curls on his head.

  Erik’s heart throbbed in a way it never did before. It hurt and yet was so sweet he couldn’t get enough. “Chestnut...”

  “Please, let me be yours tonight in bed, Master. Like man to man. All I want is to give myself to you freely,” Chestnut whispered and reached his shackled hands up in a silent plea.

  Erik’s brain stopped working, scrambled with the sweet syrupy heat inside him. “I wasn’t ready for this,” he whispered, but his knees were already bending toward the beautiful pony. “Is it only tonight?”

  “I will be your pony, Master Erik, but if I could be your man as well, my life would be complete.”

  Erik swallowed, but he couldn’t trust himself to speak anymore and instead leaned forward to brush his lips against Chestnut’s. His back became one big tremble, and he had trouble blindly finding the cuffs that held Chestnut’s hands prisoner. As unexpected as this was, he couldn’t deny that his pony had an agreeable disposition lately. He was eager to please Erik and spend time together. Would this mean Erik could have back the life he'd shared with Prancer? Having a pony and the handsome man within, too?

  Chestnut leaned closer, and the kiss on Erik’s ear sent a shiver down his spine. “Thank you. I will make you happy, Master,” he said as Erik took the cuffs off him.

  Chestnut's body was so warm and fragrant from the rosemary Jack had put on him earlier. Erik couldn’t wait to spoon it from behind and feed on delicious cheese, sharing delicacies and flesh. “Oh, Chestnut, you’re the sweetest pony I’ve encountered in a very long time,” he whispered, not yet able to confess his love, even though it had been there for a long time, simmering beneath the surface.

  “Oh, I love cheese, Master,” Chestnut said in a cheery voice and reached toward the cheese board with his freed hand. Instead of fetching the cheese though, he grabbed the slicing wire and turned around to Erik, smacking him on the head with so much force that Erik saw stars and fell to the floor.

  Erik groaned, rising to all fours, overwhelmed by the colors dancing all around him as his head spun. He looked down to the wooden panels, to the drops of watered-down blood. Everything hurt. He didn’t know what was going on.

  “I’ll show you a fucking cock, you motherfucker,” Chestnut hissed, and pushed Erik back down on the floor, but before Erik could even scream, the slicing wire bit into the sides of his lips. Chestnut pulled it back, slowly ripping through Erik’s flesh while he pushed down Erik’s breeches.

  Erik’s blood went cold, and he screamed into the wire, squeezing his buttocks as tight as he could. Disoriented, he grabbed the wire on both sides of his face, shocked by the metallic tang in his mouth. He’d been tricked by a pony.

  “Hans!” screamed Erik, but it came out muffled and incomplete after his head smashed against the floor once more.

  “I’ll fucking rip your ass apart and then kill you, you deviant.” Chestnut hissed above him, and another pull of the wire filled Erik’s mouth with blood. He was choking, his whole body was falling apart, and yet the darkness Erik so craved never came, leaving him completely sober to everything that was to happen.

  Chapter 1

  Reuben enjoyed all the eyes on him more than he’d admit. When he pulled Erik’s cart through the streets of Bylondon,
with warm breeze combing back his hair and his master’s gentle commands directing him, he couldn’t understand why he had feared this so much. He was carrying the most notorious man in town, beautiful and noble Erik Dal. There was no reason for shame, even with a bit in his mouth. And not all the stares were even unpleasant. Some clearly caressed his body, sliding over his hair, down his back, untouchably squeezing Reuben’s ass. He was much more beautiful now than he’d ever been, and it was all thanks to Master Erik’s care. But at the same time, having been hidden away in Erik’s mansion for such a long time made him timid around the crowds, especially now that he had more to take care of than the bulk of his own body.

  He had been unsure how to enter the stream of people in front of Erik’s mansion when they first left the cart room. At first Reuben had slowed down, but knowing he'd made a commitment to Erik, who in return would protect him, he took a deep breath and straightened his back. In a beautiful mask and a glorious outfit that made him look even bigger, more masculine, there was nothing to be ashamed of. The way he was now, he looked far nobler than most people he’d encounter, even if he was merely a slave. Most people were slaves: of their work, of their betters. He at least had a beautiful master who kept him pampered, and he slept on soft hay and cushions, not on wooden beds with cockroaches for company.

  And the longer he was out, the less intrusive people’s stares seemed. Most passersby gave him a moment’s glance before carrying on with their own business. Back in London, the police would have stopped him and a crowd of onlookers gathered with stones in their hands, but that wouldn’t happen here. No one would dare lay a hand on Erik of the Dal family, the feared Bluefinger, nor on his property. With a man like that as his master, Reuben held his head high. Suddenly everything that he'd been taught about walking and how to react to particular pulls on the reins made sense. It was much better than to have Erik screaming orders from behind. He couldn’t wait to show off how good he was at it, how well he remembered everything he needed.

  A swift, but gentle pat of the riding crop to the side of his buttock was a signal to start running, and the pull on the reins to the left was all he needed to know. With his vision tunneled by the mask as if he had blinders on, his focus was better than ever. This was work he wanted to excel at. He didn’t run straight away, cautious about the cart. Showing off was one thing but the risk of tipping Erik into the dirt was one he wasn’t willing to take.

  But once he settled into the new situation, he didn’t need any further suggestions and walked ahead through the streets that now seemed far busier than he remembered from that one time when he'd watched Bylondon from a cage. Sun gave the streets a warm glow, even if smoke and dust from London floated in the air. Back in the slums where Reuben had lived with his father, sunshine never managed to reach through the tall buildings built one over another. Even the mud was drying up quick, so with each crossing he walked faster, eager to please his master.

  When he was once more patted with the crop, his fast walk turned into a steady run, and it didn’t matter anymore that he was shackled, wearing a horse mask, and another man's property. He was free. The filtered air coming through his mask filled his lungs with every deep breath he took as he worked hard to keep a steady pace. If he ran too fast, he risked tiring and failing Erik.

  Erik pulled the reins to the right, and Reuben immediately made a soft turn in that direction, trotting into what appeared to be a market street. Even through the mask he could hear muffled shouts of merchants praising whatever it was they were selling. Erik pulled at the reins , giving Reuben a silent order to slow down.

  The fact that he didn’t hear voices very well made Reuben calm, and all he focused on were the pulls and pats he'd practiced so many times before. He was in a world of his own, and the only sensations that mattered were ones Erik bestowed on him. Encased in soft leather, Reuben wasn’t just a slave anymore—weak and vulnerable. He was walking proud, untouchable thanks to Erik’s authority. No one would call him a carrot top or a red rat with his master’s grace shining down upon him.

  He had to look down to make up for not seeing much of what was around him. Children were running up and down the street, chasing each other as if there was no better place in Bylondon to do that. Still, this was the first time in Reuben’s life when people actually moved to make room for him in the street. Erik stopped him in front of a store with a newly painted wooden framework around the shop window. There were various books on display, a whole palette of paper, inks, and other supplies Erik probably needed for his work. From the corner of his eye, Reuben noticed Hans opening the door without actually entering.

  Feeling no movement on the cart, Reuben stared ahead, waiting for further commands; he looked around but kept aware of the reins, just in case. The first thing he noticed was that there were a lot more men than women in sight, which he found odd in a place that mostly housed food vendors. He could see all kinds of products, from fabrics to vegetables of dubious freshness and mincemeats. In Reuben’s experience, mince was the worst choice one could turn to. The safest bet on the market stalls was probably the tinned foods. He furrowed his eyebrows at the long, yellow vegetable with a few darker spots. He had never seen before, but it wasn’t the only exotic produce he’d never once encountered in the markets back home.

  His focus shifted when he realized someone was yelling something at him and Erik. A young man in just a pair of pants and suspenders pulled his gas mask over his hair so he could voice his anger louder. “Gregorovich will not allow this when he gets into Parliament! Bylondon should be a place of freedom, not slavery!”

  “Gregorovich can fuck my ass.” Erik was as calm as ever, and Reuben didn’t even sense him moving on the cart.

  He snorted and shook his head like a horse, without saying a word.

  “You are one perverted freak, Bluefinger, and you'll regret all that you’ve done!” The boy picked up a rock from the ground, and while he seemed to just play with it for now, Reuben knew this kind of toy could turn into a weapon all too quickly. “Humanists will win over London, and people like you will be wiped out.”

  Hans’s bulky form moved closer to the young man, erecting a living wall between him and Erik, who snorted loud enough for Reuben to hear.

  “Let’s face it, boy, all you people want is what people like me have. Like those coins.” Reuben heard a clatter of metal behind him.

  There was a shuffling of feet and Reuben turned his head in curiosity. His mouth went dry. Children kneeled in the dirt, elbowing each other to reach more coins scattered all around the cart.

  Even the loudmouth Humanist supporter hesitated for only a brief moment before hastily falling to his knees.

  “You see that, Copper? Such are the people who think so low of us.” Erik snorted and traced the riding crop up Reuben’s spine. The sensation was so unexpected that it squeezed a low groan out of Reuben. A few of the children gathered at his feet looked up, wide eyed, and backed away as if he were a real horse and could break their heads with one swing of his hoof. He was surprised it didn’t upset him at all, and there was a strange tingle of pleasure at the thought that his mere presence could command even a fraction of the respect Erik was getting.

  Hidden behind the mask, Reuben was completely anonymous, and he could only imagine what effect he must have on some people. After all, he was tall, brawny, wide-shouldered, and dressed in black leather from head to toe. The moment he first saw Erik, in a mask that hid his mismatched eyes, was among the most unsettling of Reuben’s life. Could Reuben possibly have the same effect on people, even if he was shackled to a cart?

  “The supplies you ordered, sir,” said a maturely dressed middle aged man, who appeared in the entrance of the store. He disappeared from Reuben’s sight as he walked up to the side of the cart, but from the sounds, Erik was paying for the items. When the transaction was over, the children had already dispersed, probably hurrying to use the coins they'd gathered from the filthy road.

  “That’ll teach
them a lesson,” Erik hummed, stroking his riding crop over Reuben’s shoulder. It felt strange, like a mixture of a caress and threat.

  “It will, master?” Reuben asked, liking how low his voice sounded through the mask. Like he imagined one of those big workhorses would sound if it turned human.

  “I made those coins myself, and they are a rather blatant fake, I must say. Any reasonable shopkeeper will refuse to take them. I imagine it will be quite painful for this lot.” Erik patted Reuben’s hip with the crop, a signal that he was supposed to move.

  Reuben nodded and started forward without a word. Two voices argued in his head, one feeling sorry for the children who could get in trouble, a voice of Reuben who still felt like a part of the slum-dwelling lot. The other, Copper, Erik’s stallion, couldn’t care less about their plight, interested only in the wellbeing of his master and getting him safely home. He wasn’t the only man pulling a cart through the streets, and he soon realized that he hadn’t seen an actual horse since leaving Erik’s home today, which was strange considering they were in a lively, rather affluent neighborhood. Instead, the wealthy moved in sedan chairs and carts much like the one he was pulling, although he hadn’t yet seen anyone else dressed up as a horse.

  At one point, a child touched his calf before being tugged away by its angry mother. It really seemed that in an odd way he could blend in, and apart from that one boy by the market stalls, no one dared to insult them. On the contrary, not only were most people giving them space so they could pass freely, but some even greeted Erik with polite nods. He really was someone important in Bylondon, just like Jack said.