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

by K. A. Merikan

  When Erik put the pistol away and brushed Reuben’s dried out lip with clean cotton, Reuben was overwhelmed by the wave of emotion rolling through him. Erik dropped to his knees by the sofa and gathered him into his arms without a word.

  “I’m yours now,” Reuben lisped, closing his eyes and falling into the hug. His heart was beating so fast he was starting to get worried. He’d felt this way when he was being led into the Pit of the Dead, but the implications were so different, so much more appealing.

  Erik held him in a steady embrace, smelling Reuben’s skin in complete silence. Nothing could have ruined the beauty of the moment.

  Chapter 12

  Reuben couldn’t believe this was happening. His black leather outfit was tighter than ever before, and he was more aware of every muscle in his body. The leather smell mixed with the wooden aroma of the carriage, Erik’s sandy cologne, and Reuben’s own excitement. He had to be high.

  They would be seeing Percy Preston tonight. This had to be the most fantastic thing that had ever happened to Reuben. He would not only get to see Percy Preston perform, but Erik also had gotten him an extravagant outfit so he could ‘shine like the ruby he was’, as Erik put it.

  His blanket was made of thick velvet, embroidered with tiny red glass beads at its high collar, and finished with thick tassels. It was long enough to cover Reuben’s ass, and as much as he didn’t mind exposing his rear in pants, tonight was a different story. He wore a tail that reached inside him through a discreet hole in the outfit. The penetration was shallow but kept Reuben hyper-aware. Especially since he was to wear it in public. The front of his mantle was shorter, ending around his navel, and Reuben couldn’t help but think that its purpose was to show off his erection.

  Every now and again, Erik reached out to pet him with his bare foot, as Reuben kneeled in the carriage in front of his master. After almost four months as Erik’s pet, he’d learned that satisfaction would come eventually and didn’t rush to spill as fast as possible. The days of putting himself in danger on the streets just to have a taste of cock seemed like a lifetime away.

  Erik let him choose the flowers that they would give Mister Preston, but after being overwhelmed with an intimidating amount of choices, Reuben decided on roses. White ones, as flawless as Mister Preston’s skin.

  Reuben looked at his master and rubbed against Erik’s knee with his muzzle. Tonight was pure ‘horse time’, and Reuben wanted to make Erik proud of his performance. He had a bit in his mouth, and a thick leather muzzle covered the whole bottom half of his face. It felt like being doubly silenced, but Reuben didn’t mind. Tonight he was an animal, the most pampered pet, and it was his time to be shown off. All afternoon had been spent getting him ready for the outing: Jack’s ministrations weren’t good enough anymore, and Erik had gotten a fancy barber to tend to Reuben’s mane. The man freshly trimmed the hair on the sides of Reuben’s scalp and arranged the middle section into a row of ponytails that stuck up from a set of intricate braids. To top it all off, Erik attached a plume of black ostrich feathers above Reuben’s forehead. The headpiece made him seem even taller than he actually was, and with the new sapphire earring next to his ruby stud, he felt like a work of art. He was living in Erik’s delusional dream, and he never wanted to wake up.

  When the carriage eventually stopped, Reuben knew they were at the theater. His temples began pulsing, but he calmed down as soon as Erik put his shoes back on and adjusted his own outfit. It was very sleek, with a tight leather collar that forced his head into an upright position. Only this time, Erik chose to wear white. Instead of a full-face cover, he had hidden only his eyes with a simple, yet elegant mask made with artistically folded leather. Reuben wished he could hump him and come in the leather pants. Right now.

  His eyes focused on the small window in the carriage door, which was now obscured by a velvet curtain, but then they heard a knock and Hans opened the door, flooding the carriage with chaotic noise of many people talking over an orchestra. Hit by all that clamor, Reuben felt himself stiffen, but he wouldn’t disobey Erik’s command to follow him outside.

  This was the first time Reuben wore his hooves during a public outing, and he was scared that he would bring Erik shame by tripping, so he focused all of his energy on leaving the carriage with dignity. As much as he hated Hans’s touch, he appreciated the way the bodyguard helped him out onto the red carpet. Framed by two shallow troughs with tiny red fish, the carpet led straight into the mouth of a monumental edifice, which looked like something only the Bylondoners could have created.

  At the center was a church built of grey stone, but the original structure expanded to the sides and up, creating an egg-like shape supported by numerous buttresses and scaffolds. Reuben’s eyes followed colorful beams of light thrown on the walls of the theater, and was amazed by the huge, dark silhouette of a man in a top hat repeatedly bowing toward the entrance. Its edges weren’t completely sharp, but the puppeteer was skilled enough to fool Reuben into thinking that he saw the shadow of a man of flesh and blood.

  A loud whinny made Reuben turn his head only to see a mass of ordinary Bylondoners trying to get through a metal fence and a group of armed guards. Many of them seemed drunk. He spotted a kissing couple, but the crowd was mostly screaming their lungs out and making obscene gestures. It made his skin crawl to think what would happen if they got through, but Erik looked as sure of himself as ever, and he tugged Reuben along into the building.

  Reuben held his head up high, as he had practiced countless times, and with the way his arms were bound tightly behind his back, he was as straight as an arrow. He let go of fear or shame, completely focused on being Copper, a beautiful stallion Erik brought to the theater for his own pleasure. He towered over all the guests, and he felt a sense of power, even if he was in fact bound and helpless. Erik was enough of a shield against any unpleasantness. Or Hans for that matter. For an event like this, Reuben could imagine Erik had even more people taking care of his safety in secret.

  Reuben was hit by an intense floral aroma, and he soon realized it was coming from small pots high upon the walls. The hall they entered indeed had the structure of a church, with three naves and two rows of booths on both sides where the choir used to be. It looked more conventional than the facade, but despite spending so much time in Erik’s home, the sheer amount of expensive fabrics and polished metal was staggering.

  Small groups of people in expensive garments drank something from slim glasses and nibbled on small pieces of food that Reuben couldn’t identify. He was surprised to see many gentlemen and ladies in garments that he’d never seen outside of London, which could only mean that numerous enthusiasts of Percy Preston’s art followed him into the outer city. He smiled in appreciation as wide as the bit would allow him and whinnied his happiness.

  Erik turned to him with a grin. “Do you like it, darling?”

  Reuben gave a single nod. Even though he was a slave, his elaborate outfit made him fit in with the crowd of high society people. He belonged to Erik Dal, so he was in fact invited here, unlike all those who remained outside. No one could say he was scum and throw him in the gutter.

  It was hard to miss the glances they were getting as they slowly progressed through the hall. Erik stopped every now and then to exchange a few words with people he knew, but no one dared to say anything bad about Reuben, as if Erik’s glory somehow spread over to him. Even the fact that some of the looks he got were colored with disgust couldn’t quell the pride he felt. Would any of his friends even wear an outfit as expensive at this? None of them were willingly given expensive jewels or cherished like he was.

  He felt a peculiar kind of satisfaction whenever the guests noticed his stiff cock under the leather. He couldn’t help himself. The tight outfit squeezed him like a fist with every move and added pressure on the tail. He could imagine that he was going to be hard all night. If his cock was to be visible, it might as well be big and engorged with blood. Erik’s body, encased in leather and ri
ght in front of him, would surely keep his prick stiff.

  “I’ve heard Dima Gregorovich broke out of the asylum,” someone said.

  The familiar name caught Reuben’s attention. Erik had been approached by a middle-aged lady in a red dress that was mostly hidden by a lacy cape depicting stag heads. A heavy layer of white paint covering her skin made her look like a ghost.

  Since he was an animal, no one could blame him for staring, so he did just that without inhibition.

  Erik gave the woman a curt nod, ignoring her knowing smile. “That is correct.”

  “And the Dals had absolutely nothing to do with it?”

  “Oh, believe me, I would love to know more than you do.” Erik’s voice sounded as cheerful as usual when he spoke to acquaintances who weren’t beneath his heel.

  “I am so curious if Mister Preston includes this new turn of events into his plot. He always thinks on his feet.” She smiled and fanned herself, but Reuben’s gaze wandered off to a flock of young girls a few feet away. They kept glancing back at him from time to time, and their voices could be heard even through the music.

  “Is Gregorovich actually a character?” Erik reached back, and before Reuben understood what was going on, gentle fingers slid up and down his tightly encased cock.

  He let out a loud half-snort, and his attention was right back to Erik. His sphincter tightened over the phallus inside him when Reuben tensed his buttocks at the touch.

  The lady in red must have noticed it too, because she paused for half a second, as if unsure whether she should continue. “I think so. Unless he managed to escape, of course.” She laughed and winked at Erik.

  “Ah, yes. Let’s hope he’ll move his attentions to Liverpool, or some other city and leaves us be.” Erik took a glass of some sparkling drink from a waiter circulating with a silver tray. He and the lady exchanged a few more words and pleasantries before an elegant gentleman in a red tuxedo snatched her away.

  Erik looked back at Reuben and tugged at the reins, slowly approaching an open door leading to a staircase. “You’re on everyone’s lips.”

  That wasn’t much of a surprise, considering what he was wearing. Reuben let out a whinny, feeling more powerful than ever. He was a part of something bigger, and he reveled in every minute of it. Hans touched him with surprising gentleness as he escorted Reuben up the stairs, right behind Erik. The hooves clattered against the stairs which every step he took, but he felt safe between two men who would make sure he wouldn’t fall.

  Once on the first floor, Erik led him down the corridor, straight to the booth at the very end. Reuben didn’t have to ask to know it had been decorated at his master’s request. All four chairs had horse head shaped armrests, and the wall separating the space from another booth was covered by an intricate painting of Pegasus. He smiled around his bit and stood there, admiring the work of art. A white winged horse, falling from the sky into a forest below. Erik had such impeccable taste. John knew nothing.

  For a moment he was getting worried he’d have to spend the whole play in a standing position, but then he spotted a kneeler cushioned with smooth red velvet and walked over to it.

  “Yes, darling. That one is yours.” Erik pulled closer and slipped one hand under Reuben’s mantle. It was hard to keep quiet when he pulled at the tail, teasing Reuben’s sensitive anus. Reuben moaned and leaned into Erik’s body, his prick throbbing at the movement. He loved when Erik paid attention to his ass.

  The hooves made Reuben so tall that the top of Erik’s head only reached up to Reuben’s chest, but it felt so good to have Erik embrace his waist.

  “Poor thing, you can’t come yet.” Erik raised his face towards Reuben with a small smile and tugged on the tail again.

  Reuben huffed and rubbed his erection against Erik’s stomach. He was a sinner to embrace all the filthy things Erik had him do. The thought came to him because they were in a former church, but he couldn’t care less. Nothing had ever happened in his life to make him this way, so if he was born with such a defect, it was God’s mistake, and he refused to take the blame. The way Erik slowly moved the phallus inside of him made Reuben whimper with lust.

  “Good, that’s it. We need you ready for Percy Preston, don’t we?” Erik slowly traced Reuben’s arm with a trail of kisses. “When he looks up to our booth, he needs to see how excited you are about his performance.”

  Reuben couldn’t imagine Percy Preston would actually look at them, but he shivered at the thought that it could happen. He let his eyes roam and stiffened when his gaze met a familiar set of eyes on a pillar across the nave. Erik’s face, covered with silver, turned towards him, a smug smile coloring the cold lips. It was a life-sized statue dressed in red leathers, with hair layered with gold paint. In its arms it held a disembodied horse head.

  Reuben snorted and pointed to it with his chin before looking back to Erik with a question in his eyes.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Erik slowly stepped back and sat in the chair closest to the kneeler. “I am one of the main sponsors of this theater.”

  Without being asked to, Reuben acted on his intuition and kneeled next to his master. He could clearly see the stage from there, too. He couldn’t comprehend just how rich the Dals were. Like the king himself, maybe. Below, he could see galleries filling with middle-class Bylondoners. The scaffolds supporting platforms with simple wooden chairs were fenced off, presumably to prevent the plebs from forcing their way up and disrupting the evening for everyone else.

  Reuben rubbed his temple against Erik’s knee, but he couldn’t be as carefree with it as usual since he had to balance the plume and worry about his hairstyle. In a kneeling position, the phallus pressed on his anus and made his cock throb again. Oh, how he wanted to be pounded by Erik. Maybe he could get him to do it in the booth during the intermission.

  Erik stroked his head and allowed Hans to sit in a chair close to the entrance to their booth. As the noise rose when the doors were finally opened to the poorest spectators, they settled into a comfortable silence. Erik’s hands roamed over the shaved sides of Reuben’s head, making his balls tighten in the confinement of his outfit.

  They waited patiently, watching the crowd. Some people gawked up at Erik’s booth, but Reuben was too caught up in waiting for Percy Preston to care. The stalls emitted horrendous noise, and he could smell beer all the way up in their booth, but when the lights began to fade, the crowd went surprisingly quiet. Reuben held his breath, excited to hear the drums of the orchestra mixed with the sound of hundreds of clocks ticking and cogs moving in invisible mechanisms. Even Erik’s touch became less important, and he bowed forward to get a better view of the stage.

  The curtains parted, and the opening scene left him breathless, as they were instantly transported into the world of the Dandy Doctor. Reuben immediately recognized Percy Preston in a wig of flame-red hair, just like in the poster. He was fucking a girl in a nurse’s uniform right on the surgery table. Documents lay scattered on the floor as he pounded her like there was no tomorrow. From high above, Reuben could actually see half of his ass in the lowered pants. Would they be actually doing it on stage?

  The nurse moaned and squealed like the prostitutes Reuben had seen. “Yes, Doctor Deverell, more!”

  A door to the side opened with a loud bang, and a huge man in white stormed in. It took a moment for Reuben to realize the long sleeves the man was dragging over the floor were a distinctive feature of a straitjacket.

  Percy Preston groaned, looking over his shoulder, but never stopped driving his hips between the nurse’s thighs.

  “The fuck is this, Deverell? You promised to have a cure for the Plague, and two months later this is what you do!” The other actor had a low voice and a harsh Russian accent.

  Percy Preston arched his back, and with a howl he came. Or so it seemed. Percy Preston was the greatest.

  “I was busy, Gregorovich. Can’t you see I need this for my mental hygiene?”

  Reuben barely registered the roa
rs of laughter from the public, too entranced by what was happening on stage. This was nothing like the play he had seen in London. It was even better, more raw, shameless. Just like him.

  Merry music accompanied the scene as background noise when the nurse got off the surgery table, showing off her naked body to the crowd.

  “I have more to talk about, but the nurse has to leave first,” Gregorovich grumbled with a frown, his back straight as he walked around, picking up some of the documents.

  “Her?” Percy looked at the young woman, who was readjusting her skimpy outfit while pushing her bosom out towards the lecherous public. “Oh, she’s just a whore. I only make them dress like that.”

  “Filth! Get her out of here,” spat Gregorovich, but his gaze followed the prostitute as she left the scene. Her uniform was hitched in the back, so her buttocks were on show, and for a moment the audience erupted with thumping and catcalls.

  Gregorovich took off the straitjacket and threw it to the floor. The actor was wide shouldered, tall, and muscular, with dark chest hair. One of his arms looked like armor, or a separate mechanism. Women in the crowd squealed and laughed as he flexed his pectoral muscles. Reuben had to admit the actor deserved the applause, even though he couldn’t join in.

  The background moved, and dead bodies on hooks emerged from the darkness. Reuben wasn’t sure if they were real but assumed they’d stink if they were.

  “Don’t you want to have a go with a slicked up muff? We are the best of friends after all,” Percy Preston said as he adjusted his pants. He threw the white laboratory coat to the desk, and his form exploded with color. He was wearing a tail coat with a peacock feather print, brown breeches, and high heeled boots. The flutes and trumpets went wild. Reuben had no idea how the theater did it, but even the colors of the lamps changed, lamps in all colors of the rainbow lighting up on each of the dead bodies in the background.