With one last, earth-shattering thrust, Maste- THE FUCKING STALLION, GODDAMNIT! - burried itself into the mare. As his cum filled her womb, he spoke a new name which drove itself into his broodmare’s mind: Lavender Moon.
Lavender came. Loudly, messily, mercilessly, the orgasm rolled its way over her once or twice, the new name hammering itself into her mind with each little convulsion. No, not hers… HIS mind.
The frayed edges of his concience barely held onto the last vestiges of his identity. It went to war with everything else the stallion had just rammed in there, drawing lines and digging trenches around some parts, while ceding others. His name, whatever it had been, was lost forever. But even with the strong compulsion to obey and acknowledge this stallion as “Master,” Lavender Moon still had her own free will. The deepest parts of who he was… is… had been saved. Though, calling himself “he” felt a bit… off, given the circumstances.