Moonlight and Magic
Gods he was pathetic. If he’d had a tail he’d be wagging the thing. “Stop,” she said, holding up a hand. She didn’t need to use any magic to compel his obedience but he froze in place as surely as if she had. “Crawl to me.”
Word Count: 6,700
Kink Level: D/s featuring F/m, pegging and ponyplay
Prompter: TJ & Cary
Under Glass Theme: She’s on the bottom
Though her magic was innate and didn’t require anything more than thought, she snapped her fingers—all the better to put on a show for the little pony-man— and suddenly he was decked out in all manner of leather straps. They criss-crossed over his chest and down to his waist where they elongated but continued to his thighs. The straps were connected together with shiny O-rings, buckles and clips so that even his slightest movement made him jingle like a full team of horses. She played with the straps, tightening and adjusting even though they needed neither. “Oh, what a handsome horse you are.”
He preened beneath the compliment, tossing his head, making the tack ring and jingle, and increasing the width of her smile.
“Just missing a couple things…” She could turn his head into that of a beast the same as the trickster, but she liked this—the look in his very human eyes as he stood in the harness. The combination of man and animal sent delicious licks of pleasure up from her belly to her chest so instead of transforming him, she conjured a hood. Black as the night, just like the leather harnesses, it would give the human an equine profile—the long face, the muzzle, the flicking ears but let her continue to see his human eyes, as pale a blue as hers were dark.
“Here,” she said, holding it out. The weaver ducked his head, accepting it without question and it molded to his face, transforming him.
“And hooves,” she said, summoning up a set of boots which resembled the large, fringed feet of a Clydesdale. These she tied tightly to his wrists and ankles. Reinforced in the shape of a horse’s hooves they would summon up a beautiful clip-clop sound should she walk her pony-man over an appropriate surface.
“One last thing,” she said, sliding the backs of her nails down his spine and over the curve of his ass. “Horses have tails.”
Beneath the mask the man’s eyes grew wide and afraid and she heard what sounded like the beginning of a protest quickly swallowed back into silence. “Now,” she said, slowly tracing random shapes on the small of his back and the cheeks of his ass with her fingertips. “I could give you a permanent tail—that is within my power—but I don’t think you’d want a tail all the time would you?”
He shook his head vehemently.
“No, no I didn’t think so. Just when you’re with me, right? Just when you’re with me…”
With a flick of her wrist the tail appeared in the palm of her hand. She moved to where he could see her, could see it. It was a glorious thing.