Pony Trip – Equus 3 – The Field Of Flesh

By Richard Godwin

Emmanuel woke and looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked at his thick lustrous black hair and the manner of his face and considered he would lure women to the farm.

That he would craft their sexual tapestry with his lust and bring them to heat.

He needed the rich crimson tones of ovulation.

He had the features of a living prince.

An exile lost in the mundane world like some beautiful brooding Troubadour.

Joshua had chattered in his ear all night about the hidden meaning of farming and he knew the way he would achieve what Joshua wanted.

He had told Emmanuel that they needed to grow a living soil and flesh would yield its birth to them once the tilling began.

Joshua hungered for bacon, the smell rising in the air like thick smoke, and Emmanuel prepared him some, eating with the living violation of time crawling within his womb.

He considered the methods of falconry and saw the women as the beasts he would lure on his gyre, the central whirlpool anarchy and the eye of knowledge from which the crop of the farm would be born.

He ate the bacon, the smell of meat heavy and sweet and Joshua spread his mantle over the farm and reached his hands into the tendril sky that spread itself on the horizon.

He showed Emmanuel the creaking edge of time deep within the brickwork.

He flooded his mind with images of decay and erotic violations.

Hermaphrodites bred in the covered sac of a bleeding shell.

He conjured him with the juice of a wildflower and entered him at dawn.

He taught him ferme and feorm, firmo and feormeham, firma and ferma, firmus and firmitas.

Together they summoned the living beings from the shadow of night as Emmanuel incantated the dark mantra and chiselled the edge of a broken lock with a scalpel.

One day he ploughed the field naked and entered the dark earth rising from it with his flesh covered in the soil.

He went to the house where he washed and covered himself with the scent of ejaculating roses and he went into Toft.

He entered the pub and drank whisky as the women looked at him.

He saw the brood mares he would use for the purposes of the farm and he approached them with the manners of a well dressed courtier.

He ushered them into the fairy tale.

He accelerated their breathing.

Two women sat at a table and he read their eyes.

One was a brunette with voluptuous lips and heavy breasts, and Emmanuel could hear the ticking of her passion beneath the rustling of her skirt.

The other had black hair that fell across her shoulders, she was smaller and her back arched like a cat as Emmanuel approached and smelt her fertile skin.

‘It would seem you are thirsty my ladies’, he said. ‘Can I slake you?’

The brunette looked at him with premeditated hesitation, but the flicker in her eyes was stilled as Emmanuel entered her.

‘I’ll have a rum’, she said.

‘I am at a loss how to address you. ‘


Emmanuel looked into her as he said it.


He conjured her with the manner of his enunciation.

She felt as though he were tasting her name.

He turned to the other woman.

‘And what may I get for you?’

She was unable to speak for a moment, falling inside him. She felt she was melting and pulled herself back trying to regain the shape of herself and feeling her liquid heart shed drops inside her soul like nectar.

‘I’ll have the same’, she said.

‘How shall I call you?’


He leaned in to her and breathed her in.


He returned with their drinks and Alicia and Kate looked at his watchful eyes and slow hands turning the frayed edges of the cloth that covered the table.

The action was mesmeric, a rolling motion that seemed explicit in its sexual attention and as they watched they felt his fingers enter them and open them to wetness.

He took them to the farm.

He watched them undress and touch one another.

Then he stripped and rode them into the voyeuristic night.

He entered Alicia first, tasting her with the tip of his tongue. He sensed her passion and volatile nature, and decided they would be most useful for his dark enterprise.

He pushed deep inside her and entered Kate with his fingertips.

She was reminded of the frayed cloth and clenched him in.

As Alicia came he penetrated her with his eyes and forespoke the knowledge of their acts that he commissioned from them with the gratification of their desires.

He told her this not in words but the hidden language of memory which he unfolded from the dark and brooding leaves of her lips.

Then he entered Kate and tasted her climate.

He knew her need for gentleness and gave her a touch so soft it seemed to her she could not see where she was and he penetrated her to the core and loosed himself there and the code of their commission.

He lay and touched their bodies with hands that seemed unreal. They seemed the hands of doves whose wings had learned transformation.

And Joshua watched from the edge of the doorway.

He saw them fall pregnant with horse semen.

Emmanuel lay with them and held them as they drifted on the tide he filled them with and as he caressed them they knew what it was they would do.

He penetrated them all night with body and mind and they were naked not just in the flesh but in their souls. He reached the essence of their feminine desire and captured them there, feeding and fuelling the addiction to flesh.

Then with day rising in the sky he took them to the field.

He handed them the soil of the graves there and it was filled with the flesh of the harrowed ones and they ate it.

He inserted his fingers deep inside them and smeared them with the earth of the field.

They were coupled courtesans of the farm.

They began to look for weapons.

Alicia and Kate found spikes both long and thin that could skewer a man or woman’s neck and they entered Toft.

They seduced the ready passengers for fuckery, masturbating men in toilets and drawing on their talent for lesbianism as they exposed the female’s passion for herself.

Joshua held a mirror to them, and they lived in an erotic Eden.

They took these unsuspecting customers to the farm promising them wilder adventures and the taste of corrupted flesh.

And as they sucked the semen from the men or lapped at the gaping cunts of the women they fetched their spikes and punctured their throats and let spray their blood upon their white and heated skins.

They took them to the field and buried them there and filled the earth with the corpses of the men and women.

They harrowed them with bodies that knew no bounds to depravity and they bled them well feeding the soil with their redolent sexual flesh.

Emmanuel watched all this and kept Alicia and Kate in desire. He ensured they were in a state of constant arousal and sated them with sinful hands.

Joshua told him of the Royal House and he showed him where the clothes were kept.

As the rats scuttled away Emmanuel found and opened the old trunk and removed the dresses and stripped his killing brides and touched them before dressing them in Royal Garb.

The silk seemed to hiss its way down their naked bodies as he lowered their garments on to them and they stood like Queens awaiting some black unholy coronation.

And he took them to the stables.

He let them lie back and lift their skirts and show their snatches to the horses who stared with rage at them, smelling the cunts and hoofing the ground.

He had two trolleys and put Alicia on one and Kate on the other and wheeled them beneath the horses and manoeuvred their penetration of the killing brides.

And when they were inseminated he took them to bed and fed them with the withered forms of grass fetched from the field’s edge.

Joshua showed him the eddied forms of image swirls and told him what he would do.

He would birth them and loose the Imperial Horse.

31 thoughts on “Pony Trip – Equus 3 – The Field Of Flesh”

  1. There’s such an earthy beauty to this piece that it sent turning spikes rushing through my blood. It felt like a common memory and mythical at once. I was also astounded by the poetry of it and feel almost breathless after reading.

    1. I love the way that Anthony described it, common memory and mythical. And I love that Richard keeps moving in this direction, this is the Richard I love most.

  2. Few stories by writers of erotic horror succeed as this one does. What usually happens is writers are unable to balance eroticism and horror so neither slows down the telling of the story. This is why you are a top favorite of mine!

  3. Majestic and poetic writing. This story is full of richly layered myth and darkness it made me feel breathless. Erotic, beautiful and sharply unnerving. Stunning.

  4. And the rich, meaty stew thickens. A monstrous pot au feu bubbling slow and fulsome at the back of the fire. I wonder what kind of season the twin Eurydices will shed across the land when or if they emerge from Hades. What kind of rising is at hand. You’re going to a far place with this, mate. Keep ’em (literally)coming.

  5. The passion and sinfulness leave a reader feeling sated yet unworthy of entering such a world. Beautifully orchestrated.

  6. What steamy poetry, given you here! No groping cowboy, but an eloquent Eros tasting the very name of Psyche. And the silk did not just seem to hiss, it did… I feel like Cupid but for the ponies. Incendiary! You might be arrested for arson, Mr. Godwin ; )

  7. “He taught him ferme and feorm, firmo and feormeham, firma and ferma, firmus and firmitas.”

    I love a good tale with a delightful line of alliteration.

    This one pleased me on both counts.

  8. Such a hypnotic quality here in your words, Richard. The fear and revulsion overtake you, yet you cannot turn away, and when it is over, you find youself needing more. This carries me to places that should not exist, but still I hope they remain until whatever end awaits occurs. When each new nightmare begins there, it’s a case of ‘have to know’. Incredible piece.

  9. I cannot recall that I have ever read anything such as this. Beautifully crafted story, Richard.

    I am both spellbound and repulsed, although I fear the repulsion is more with myself… your tale put me in a state I would not have chosen myself – a dark fantasy buried deep within, never to be spoken or brought to life – yet, I am powerless to stop reading, to tear my eyes away from the words.

    A violation of the mind… bravo, Richard… Bravo!!

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