The crowd hissed and booed at the bad sportsmanship but Hound took a bad step as he corrected his footing and sprawled forward, falling hard. Another of the runners had to leap clear of his rolling body and the race continued.
As the dust curled away on the wind, they passed the quarter mark. It was Hare and Cupid now, running neck and neck. They looked equally matched. Both men identical in their composure, but then Cupid’s mask almost flipped up with the force of the wind and he had to tuck his chin low as he pushed forward. Hare misstepped and veered toward Cupid but the tall man dodged him with a shortening of his stride at the last moment and then surged ahead, taking advantage of Hare’s fumble and struggle to re-balance his stride rather than bounce off the obstacle of the other runner.
Cupid pressed on at his current speed to the end of the race, gaining an embarrassing lead on Hare, who seemed to have twisted his ankle during his bad step in the race. The win was easily many lengths ahead and he didn’t even bother posturing his arms over his head, but slowed after the finish line and jogged backward, calling some taunt behind him to Hare.
“Why that arrogant bastard!” Peacock snarled and threw down her glass with a crash of breaking crystal. “Did you see? Did you?” She bit her tongue because there was nothing to see except Hound striking out at Cupid and Hare swerving into him. Was that what Sapphire Fox had meant about bad conduct earlier? Winning was important enough for them to hurt other ponies?
The man in the dragon mask made a gesture at Peacock that seemed obscene in nature, and then turned to the girl with him and coaxed her forward. The girl hesitated, looking at the furious women and then up at the man before quickly stepping along with him, pressing into his side. The man’s head bowed in low to her and they seemed to have a conversation while Leopard attempted to console the fuming Peacock.
“I see that even the lack of jumps isn’t keeping things sporting,” House Mistress’s voice rang out. “Ah, but the Archer came in first. Then Hare, Mouse, Lion, Seahorse…”
She ran off the list of names but Ursa only saw Cupid standing in the dust of the running track, bowed over his thighs, chest puffing with the effort to catch his breath despite looking as though he’d won the race so handily.
“You should probably go to him,” Celestia suggested and pressed a bottle of water into her hand as she started for the field herself.
Ursa clutched the bottle of water and set her drink on a table as she jogged down to the field. He’d won! Won! And she wouldn’t get to kiss him, except she didn’t care. He’d made those jerks look like asses and he’d won!
He held his arms out to her as she ran down the field, not caring if her mask flipped up or not. She leapt and flung herself into his waiting arms and he spun her around several times, nuzzling his hot, wet face into her neck, and she dumped a good amount of the water onto his head while the crowd burst into roars of victory.
She would have kissed him if she’d had her choice. But being swung around as though she weighed as little as a loaf of bread was good enough for her. He was hot and sweaty and soaked through her thin clothing, but she didn’t care. It felt so good. She could feel the thunderous beat of his heart against her and his breath still came out sharp and fast as he pressed in close to her cool body. She pushed the water into his hand and he set her down.
“I’ll get you more,” she murmured, hands on his chest, looking up at him as he gulped down the rest of the bottle.
“It’s all right. They will come around for more.” He grinned and held tightly to her. “I don’t want you going anywhere!” His voice held a possessive little growl that made her legs go weak.
“Well, if you get to make the orders now,” she growled at him.
He answered with a bite to her shoulder and then nuzzled into her neck, kissing up to her ear, panting all the while. “I just need this. Please, Mistress.”
She smiled into the top of his head and wrapped her arms around him. During the time of his recovery, a server came by with water and the lady-pony race started. She found a place to sit with her pony, letting him cuddle into her while he drank and she watched the race. The ladies were much more about the show, and who could blame them with the types of outfits they had on. Mostly they wore elaborate body paint and large headdresses and were naked, which had to make running less than enjoyable with the size breasts some of the women had. They still made a lovely show of going around the track.
Dragon’s pretty Hummingbird made it over the finish line first, seeming to be more of a runner than the others. She turned around and Ursa saw her frown at how far behind the others were. They were not even making an effort to join her over the finish. Show or race? Perhaps in the earlier days, it was for fun and extravagance, but the runners had made it more of a sport than it needed to be.
Cupid nuzzled her and brushed his lips against her jaw. “So, what did you think?” He stroked her hip up to the curve of her breast slowly and watched her with interested black eyes.
She pulled her gaze away from the startled-looking Hummingbird, who was clapping for those coming over the finish line after her, and smiled into the onyx eyes locked onto her.
“It’s lovely. I think I’d rather try the show though. Have you in a gag bit, some nipple clamps…” She reached out and pinched his nipple and he bowed forward with a guttural moan of delight.
His eyes rolled up before his lids closed and he pressed in closer to her. “Mistress,” he breathed in reverence and she released his nipple and smoothed her hand over his chest. She did enjoy it—both the way he’d ended the race and watching the runners. The tripping, stumbling of the overeager contestants was not enjoyable however.
Peacock and Leopard were fussing over Hummingbird, for example, and they were cooing and preening over her. Dragon stood a short distance away from the display of the women, watching with interest from behind his mask, his arms crossed over his chest. It was impossible to read his emotion behind the elaborate mask of green and gold scales and wings. Cupid followed her gaze as his cheek nuzzled into the curve of her breast.
The little blonde, behind her hummingbird mask, looked baffled at the attention and glanced at Dragon for help. The big man said something and opened his arms to the girl and carefully extracted her from the women, using his body as a shield. His head bowed forward and the two spoke, leaving the others behind to glower at their backs.
“Most of the women look like they are having more fun than you boys did,” she told her Cupid, smoothing her fingers through his hair. She pointed to another group who were pony prancing and playing, still showing off. “I think we would have more fun doing that. I mean…” She moistened her lips and forced herself not to stutter. “Would you like that?”
He was quiet a moment, looking between the groups, and then tipped his head to look at her and smiled. “Yes, Mistress. I would like that much more.” He kissed her chin and then drew his head back. “I feel like I should show these others that they are not the top of the roost, however. Forgive me for showing off?”
She ducked her head and rested her feathery mask on his forehead and grinned into his eyes. “You’ve already taken away the sweet kiss I might collect. Now you want me to forgive your arrogance? I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet, boy.”
She felt him shiver in response and his large body curled in closer to her, murmuring as though he were a huge feline, purring. She did her best to pretend it didn’t affect her.
“Yes, Mistress.” He stroked her side lingeringly, letting his large fingers pause now and then to squeeze before the caress passed along her curves. He made her feel strong, rather than small. Strong, rather than soft. She wished she could scream like an eagle.
“Now comes the time for our awards.” House Mistress’s voice cut through the cheerful buzz and Ursa released her tight hold on Cupid so he could stand up. He offered his hands to her and aided her to her feet, and she accepted the offer to stand with him. She grabbed another bottle of water from a passing server and fo
rced it into his hand as his other arm looped around her and pulled her into his solid side.
The awards were a quick affair of bestowing a pair of medals to the male and female runners for the event. It was a lovely medal on a long ribbon that the House Mistress placed over the head of the contestants with all the honors of an Olympic game. The second and third place received simple ribbons. It hardly seemed enough of an award to stir the people up to such competitive violence.
“Quite a race,” a deep voice rumbled beside her, making Ursa start. She looked up at the man in the dragon mask. He was watching the awards show with a tightness around his mouth that was not pleasure.
“It certainly was.” She shifted her balance slightly, warily watching him from the corner of her eye.
He cleared his throat lightly and turned to face her. “I wanted to say hello. It’s nice to see a new face in the races. I didn’t realize how closed and competitive the games had become until today. My pony-girl is new as well. She was convinced by a pair of the regulars that she should put on a good show, which they indicated was running fast.” He gave a small shake of his head. “Well, you see how it is.” His lips relaxed into a faint smile.
Ursa found herself smiling back and nodded. “They are out for blood, just for a trinket.”
“And bragging rights,” he added with a low snort. “That matters more than anything to some people.” He tossed a glance over at the two women and their group and rolled one shoulder. “Anyway, it’s good to meet a new jockey. Don’t be put off by all of us. We are usually a friendly group. Maybe you’ll come out to the spring tea? There’s nothing cutthroat there.”
Invitation to the tea party again. Ursa shrugged. “I will think about it. I’m still really new to this.”
“I see. Ah, here come the winners. I will leave you to your celebrations. I’m sure our paths will cross again.” He grinned at her and inclined his head politely before turning away.
It wasn’t until he walked off and scooped up his girl in a big hug that she realized how handsome the Dragon was and how little she’d been flustered or shy around him. The troublesome stutter hadn’t crept in once.
“Mistress?” Cupid asked as he strode across to her, hands behind his back, chest thrust out proudly to obviously show off the medal. “Your humble pony brings your just reward.” At her side, he knelt at her feet and looked up at her.
She had a fierce desire to claim him and own him and put her marks all over that velvety dark skin as he eased down to his knees on the grass. Her pony. Her throat felt too tight for a moment when she realized it was only momentary. His dark eyes were devouring her, making her knees weak, and he held his hands behind him, waiting for her.
“I’m not going to take your prize from you,” she told him when she’d managed to pull her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
His expression didn’t change—he only inclined his head to her, holding her gaze. “What might I do for you?” His smile curled his mouth, so sexy and naughty as he wet his lips with a slow lick of his tongue.
To answer, she slid her hand into his curls and took a fist full of them, pulling his head back so she could bow over his upturned face. “I’m going to take you to the rooms and use you ruthlessly and leave such marks on your body that everyone will know what a good pony you are. You won’t need to wear the medal.”
Chapter 4
The Prize
Somehow they made it back to the room without touching each other, though she had several impulses along the way to throw him down on the stairs and screw him soundly. Only her silent reminder that they did not have condoms held her resolve in place.
Damn her cleverness when she’d put the cock ring on him and left the protection in its safe place. She could have screwed him on the lawn, in the sunlight with everyone to witness it. Her face burned, but it wasn’t shame she felt. That was hunger and pride. Though she was not experienced with sex, she was sure he could more than make up for her fumbling.
Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door, but she managed to still herself when she reached for the center of his harness and pulled him in behind her, kicking the door closed once they’d cleared the doorway. Cupping his cock ring-trapped cock and balls in her other hand, she pressed against him and his arms curled around her, squeezing her to him.
“Mistress,” he breathed into her neck, “do with me as you will.” She could feel his eager smile before she pulled away and drew him with her, using only the hand on his cock. His hips arched forward and he moved with her, his cock swelling in her grip.
“I liked seeing you out there with your cock out,” she admitted. “But I also felt strangely possessive of you. I don’t want them seeing what’s mine.”
“They don’t see me as you see me, Mistress,” he whispered around a moan as she stroked his cock firmly from the ring to the crown, squeezing a thick dollop of pre-cum from the head. “Oh fuck!” His eyes rolled back and closed.
“Really? Well, I guess I won’t have to mark you up nearly so bad then.” He quivered with a mixture of disappointment and relief, arching into her fingers, his pulse hot through his cock flesh.
Releasing him, she reached for the basket of goodies and drew out a condom, smirking as she let him see the elegant scrawl of text—chocolate flavored. She cocked her hip to the side and tore the foil packet open with her teeth. He let out a hard breath through his nostrils and held still, devouring her with those black eyes behind his mask. When she set the cool condom to his cock head, he shivered but remained steady, aside from his quaking breath. Even as she rolled it over his cock and slowly down his length, he managed not to push into her fingers.
She was not going to admit that she’d never given a blowjob before. The images in her fantasy always included getting a mouthful, and then face load of creamy cum.
This is safer, the respectable part of her mind stammered. Safe but also tame.
And then she looked up his tight abs and saw the hunger in his eyes. “Mistress!” His voice growled the plea through his teeth as he held so still while she stroked him through the condom that protected his dark length.
No. Not. Tame. At. All!
She kissed the head of his cock and slid her mouth down over him, letting her teeth lightly graze the swollen head, and his hips rocked toward her. He moaned out his pleasure when she sucked him deeper, rolling her tongue over him, delighting at the feel of his pulse along the roof of her mouth. The faint taste of chocolate teased her and she sucked harder against him, bobbing quickly back to the head and then down again with a swirl of her tongue.
When her gaze lifted to his again, she found him looking down at her, watching as her lips stretched around his girth, slipping him deeper and deeper, until she couldn’t draw breath. He ground deep into the base of her throat, and she felt the velvet warmth of his short pubic hairs against her nose and the cool steel of the cock ring kissing her lips.
“Fuck! Mistress!” He said it like a warning and his hands clutched into fists in the air before he relaxed them and reached for her shoulders for support. With that encouragement, she began bobbing her head so her wet lips slipped and slid up and down his length. What she lacked in skill, she must have made up for in eagerness.
Perhaps he didn’t see the tears in her eyes when she nearly choked on his massive cock. When her throat constricted around him he groaned and his hips hunched forward, plunging deeper into her before she had to draw back for a ragged breath. God, he felt so good down her throat. She pressed her teeth into him as he pumped forward and he tossed back his head with a cry of pleasure, shuddering on the edge and fighting for his control.
His breathing came sharper, as though he were running harder than his earlier race. Ursa moved in time with his pulse and those gasping moans, driven by his desire and her hunger to push him over the edge. Her lower lip nuzzled into his balls as she came down firmly on his length, his thrusts driving his cock into her as though he wanted to fuck directly down into her throat. She let him. S
he wanted him to.
She felt the tightening of his balls before he let out a strangled cry. His whole body tensed and he gripped her shoulders hard enough to bruise her. Her moan vibrated through him as she gazed up at his taut body and sucked harder against his length. Wrapping her arms around his hips, she squeezed the firm ass cheeks and her fingers dug into him, pulling him deeper into her throat.
When he came, she could feel it through the thin, chocolatey condom—a hot pulse stronger than his own, an echo of hers, and in time with his strangled roar of pleasure. The sound was both broken and joyous as he fucked into her, claiming her mouth and lips and throat. His big hands slid from her shoulders to her neck and up her cheeks, mussing the mask with his rough caresses while still bucking his hips into her in time with his release.
As he spiraled down from his climax, she thought of not correcting her mask, letting him see her. But then she recovered her swirling senses and let go of that perfect ass so she could adjust herself and let him slip from between her lips.
His fingers continued to caress her face and into her hair and the headdress covering her as he stared down at her, smiling brokenly at her.
“Was I too rough?” he asked, letting a finger brush across her lips.
“No,” she whispered and smiled. “Perfect.” With a little wink, she removed both the condom and cock ring from him, shivering when he whimpered at the overstimulated rush of blood into his cock and balls.
“You’re going to kill me.” He chuckled breathlessly, sagging as she stood up.
“I think you’re hearty enough for little ol’ me,” she called over a shoulder while heading for the bathroom. As she flushed the condom, she caught an image of herself in the mirror, her mask slightly tipped, her mouth red and lipstick smeared. Cupid’s masked face peeked in behind her, his expression sheepish behind his concealment.
“I should clean up.” He was so cute and shy after his orgasm, not the hard, mysterious man hungrily consuming her with his gaze.
Wicked Masquerade Page 7
