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.
Volume 2 in the ponyplay erotic romance trilogy: The Copper Horse.
Genre: m/m erotic romance, bdsm
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)
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.