Susan set about cleaning up Annabelle and Margaret with her tongue, licking clean Florence's and her own juices from the hefty cocks that had just fucked them. As she licked along the bestial shafts a faint echo screamed that this was all wrong, that it was perverted and gross and horrifying, but her body clearly felt otherwise. Despite having shot out a litre of spunk, her balls churned with excitement, and she ached to have her holes stuffed by these gorgeous creatures again.
Reality was still warping from her transformation. The echoes took on the more distinctive tone of her mother, or rather adoptive mother, and Susan struggled to shirk the sense of shame she felt over breaking her promise to never take on an equine client. Her mother had been right, deep down she was nothing but a whore, but damn it felt good to be herself.
'Was I really your first?' asked Margaret.
Susan nodded.
'I'm honoured, but why on earth did you wait so long? Do you have trouble going into heat?'
Susan nodded. 'I grew up in a strict house. My mother wanted more for me than just a life of whoring. Anytime my libido spiked I felt embarrassed and ashamed, and it would quickly diminish.'
'You poor thing!' said Annabelle. She hopped off the table and wrapped Susan in a warm embrace. Their tits squished together and leaked milk over each other. For the first time Susan felt loved and accepted, and she started to cry.
Margaret came round behind her and joined the hug. 'It's alright. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Saying we're whores is like saying we breathe air. It's a natural part of us, and it's silly to define us that way.'
'I know what you need dear,' said Annabelle. 'Get on the table and relax. We'll put you into a heat so strong it'll burn away all of that silly shame forever.'
Susan sniffled and nodded. She allowed herself to be guided onto the table. The married mares pulled the leather belts that had materialised under the table during Florence and Susan's transformation and used them to strap down Susan's arms and legs, pinning her like a starfish with her legs wide open across the two tables.
Annabelle moved to the top of the table and bent away from it. She swished her tail back and forth to waft her scent towards Susan. At the foot of the table, Margaret started jerking her cock and readied her aim, her wife's scent helping her to build to a quick climax.
Susan moaned as hot spunk showered over her body. Her black cock extended fully from its sheath and she wriggled in an attempt to stimulate it with her tits, but she was strapped down too tightly to manage more than slight teasing brushes.
Margaret and Annabelle switched places. The presence of a steaming hot snatch just inches from her face while a cock spewed its load wastefully over her body was torture. She desperately wanted to bury her cock inside that cunt, and her drooling fuckhole pulsed with a need of its own.
Annabelle's load splattered on her skin and a thick dollop of precum squeezed itself from Susan's shaft. She was desperate to explode, but the mares were just getting started.
Annabelle crawled onto the table and turned to present herself to Susan. Her steaming snatch dripped its honey on Susan's tits, and Annabelle's cock rested on the young slut's ballsack. Margaret jumped onto the table and she mounted her wife.
Susan watched as Margaret's thick leathery pouch swayed back and forth just above her face. Pheromone laced juices dripped over her nose and cheeks and into her open mouth. It was getting difficult to think. The only thought in her mind was of being between the two lovers in a train of lustful joy.
The married mares went into a rut of their own. They screamed out words of I love you mixed with the obscenities of big-titted whore, shemale stud, and cum dumpster. Soon Margaret was burying herself to the hilt in her wife and grunting with the force of emptying her load in her favourite bucket.
Margaret hopped back off the table and tugged her wife's tail. Annabelle tilted back into her knees and shoved her sloppy cunt into Susan's face. The young mare's muffled moans sent vibrations through Annabelle and she cooed.
Susan slurped up as much of Margaret's spunk that drooled from Annabelle's stretched hole as she could, though much of it smeared over her face. Fluids leaked from her own untouched cock and pussy. She was ready to do anything to get fucked.
By the time Annabelle hopped off her face, Susan was incoherent, and the joined tables bounced and shook the floor from the force Susan was tugging at her restraints with. She felt a metal tube in her mouth and she clamped down on the bit. She snorted as it was secured to her face.
The mares used a riding crop to ensure her obedience while they untied her. Every sting only enhanced her pleasure further, yet it also tamed the beast raging inside her. She breathed heavily and stood tall and proud while the mares fitted her harness and retied her hands behind her back. She obediently trotted in her hoof-boots to the stables behind the salon.
She pulled the married couple in their carriage out into the city. Her burning lust fuelled her forward, and she trotted at a great pace through the streets and into the park. The sun beat down on her skin and her powerful scent made humans plug their nose in disgust and mares grow erect with desire as she passed. There was no room left in her body for shame.