An Iron Hoof

by Minalkra

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe, Dark
Length: 6509

... in a Velvet Shoe.

… in a Velvet Shoe.

For a friend.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-26 06:45:35 UTC

Chapter 1

"Blue, we're gonna get in trouble," Rumble hissed through his teeth at the blue earth pony colt as they skirted the bushes that surrounded the currently abandoned school yard.  The grey pegasus kept glancing up - an annoying racial quirk of his tribe - but felt no real desire to stop.  The heavily overcast sky above gave the evening an oppressive air, made worse by the scent of the near-bursting rain clouds.  Rumble's brother Thunderlane claimed that this storm was going to be the worst in recent memory and he had no reason to doubt that fact.  All it would take was a few careful kicks to start the water streaming earthward and the two colts would be caught far away from any place of shelter.  Save one.  "Ms. Wrongs is gonna be sooo mad if anypony catches us."

Blue scoffed, idly pushing his unruly blue hair out of his eyes as he scanned the school grounds for signs of others.  The dim light of mid-evening was muted further by the clouds prepared for the storm and it gave the yellowed grass a sickly pallor.  The stark and grey light, the intermittent breeze, the autumn scents of dying leaves and distant fields of ripened grain - Rumble suppressed a shudder.  The fact all but one of the lights inside the block-y school house were off made even the normally cheerful building seem unwholesome.

"Ms. Wrongs, Ms. Wrongs.  Nah nah nah nah."  Rumble's ears flipped flat as his friend teased him.  "That dragon hates colts and I'm gonna prove she's no good as a teacher's assistant."

Two weeks ago, the blue ex-guard unicorn had 'retired' to the town of Ponyville from Manehatten.  Rumors swirled around her sudden appearance and previous profession.  She had been caught taking bribes, said one.  No, she was found dealing in drugs.  One rumor even claimed she had been in the stallion water business.  Not every rumor was bad - one claimed she was on the run from the Steelbeak Clan while another painted her as a heroine that had seen too much violence in her time - but few were positive.  None of it really mattered to the foals of Ponyville's school house ... at least until Cheerilee had announced her as the new 'teacher's assistant.'  That was when things began to get bad.

According to Blue's anyway.

"She's always looking down her muzzle at us colts, Rumble.  If you're a filly, she loves you - if not, you're dirt."  The earth pony stomped one hoof on the ground in irritation but kept his eyes peeled for any sign of their oppressor.  "She's always letting the fillies pick on us and call us names.  I even heard that she saw Silver Spoon hitting Featherweight but didn't do nothin'."

Rumble rolled his eyes with a snort.  He knew the real reason Blue had it out for the unicorn mare.  For months now, Blue had been abusing Cheerilee's favoritism towards colts and using any excuse to get out of proper work.  From fake sicknesses to just skipping out of class.  Each time, Cheerilee had turned the other cheek with a blush.  Then he tried it with Ms. Wrongs after he'd been caught sneaking out of school.  Now his foster parents had gotten involved, Cheerilee was upset at him and Blue was determined to get things back the way they used to be.  It was obvious the two had it out for each other for whatever reason and Rumble didn't even know how he'd gotten roped into this ill-advised scheme.  Well, other than the fact Blue was one of his best friends.

Without another word, Blue dashed forward leaving Rumble blinking and scrambling to catch up.  Within a few moments, they had crossed the yellowed recess lawn and were standing underneath the colt's bathroom window - the window they had purposefully left opened after school.  A few well-placed hooves, a muffled grunt and a coltish cry of surprise found the two friends were inside the building.

"Ok, ok.  Ok," Blue gasped as his golden eyes wildly wandered the room.  It was very dark and the tiled floor was really cold (even through his hooves) but there was a slight light coming from underneath the hall door and the faint light from outside hadn't completely disappeared yet.  Rumble sat shivering on the floor with his wings tight around his barrel in nervousness.  Blue rolled his eyes at that - they were the heroes.  Nothing bad would happen to them.  With his back to the door, Blue rubbed his hooves together.  "Ok, so we know where her dungeon is -"

"Office," Rumble corrected, with a roll of his eyes and another slight shiver.

"- and we know where we are.  So all we have to do is sneak past her evil army of evil minions -"

"The janitor."

"- and find something that'll prove to the queen -"

"Ms. Cheerilee."

"- that her evil vizier -"

"Teacher's assistant."

"- Wrongs is an evil mare bent on world domination!"

"Eh, ah ... I got nothing."

"Rumble!"  Blue stomped his foot unconsciously causing them both to start slightly as the loud clack echoed through the dimly lit room.  After a moment of swiveling ears, Blue faced his friend with a scowl.  "Are you going to take this seriously or not?"

"Blue, if we get caught, we are both going to be in so much trouble."  Rumble shivered once more at the thought of one of his mothers discovering what he'd been doing.  With a forlorn glance at the very dark window, Rumble looked at his friend's well-lit face with almost-teary puppy eyes.  "This isn't some game right now, this is really serious stuff! I don't know what's going to happen to us if we get caught.  We'll probably get detention forever.  Maybe even expelled.  Oh Blue, what'll my mothers say if I'm expelled?!"

"We'll just have to find out, won't we young stallion?"  The two colt froze as they realized the level of light inside the room had drastically risen during their conversation.  The distinctly high class Manehattenite accent of their target was calm and controlled and though she had spoken in a conversational tone, it sounded to the two colts as though the voice of Nightmare Moon Herself had come back to Equus.  "Come along you two, don't make me have to marehandle you."

"Well, well.  Rumble of Hardback and Blue Belle, foster son of Rarity Belle."  Miranda Wrongs flipped idly through a folder filled with notes and half-filled forms as the pair of colts squirmed in their seats before her.  Her 'office,' such as it was, was barely large enough for herself and a single other mare.  Two small colts, her own body and a very rickety desk left little room for maneuvering but she made do.  For the millionth time, she silently cursed that mule-child for ratting her out to the Steelwing Clan - her racket was perfect until that infertile hybrid brat got free.  A few well-placed calls later and she was on a fast train to Ponyville with enough of the organized gryphon family in shackles that it would take years for them to regain their strength much less gather enough intelligence to try to hunt her.  Still, despite her rather secure situation she still needed a cover job and the open teacher's assistant position was almost perfect.  Almost.  With a snort of irritation - hidden behind the small 'permanent record' of the more discipline-eager of the two - Ms. Wrongs pulled herself back to the here-and-now.

"One has a nearly spotless record without much change and the other ... an absolutely exemplary record up until a few weeks ago."  A devious smile graced her lips as the blue earth pony's courage rapidly flagged - her eyes most assuredly not on the paperwork in front of her.  She barely spared a glance at the whimpering grey mess of a pegasus.  He knew his place.  It was the fierce and fiery earth pony colt that her eyes were drawn.  "Then, lo and behold, detention four times in two weeks.  Once was even for leaving school grounds without permission.  Two young trouble-making colts sniffing around school grounds."  The pegasus began to openly cry.  Ms. Wrongs rapped her hoof on the desk.

"Stop that nonsense!"  At her near-shout, the grey pegasus began sniffling as he tried to hold back his sobs.  "Now then.  I think I can see how this happened.  Blue Belle - recently punished for various serious infractions - browbeat his friend Rumble into attempting something daring to get his own personal honor back-"

"That's not wh-"  The blue earth pony's indignant shout cause Ms. Wrongs' eyes to shoot open as she leapt to her hooves.  The bang as her forehooves met wood echoed loudly through the deserted school house.  The rest of his protest died in his throat, a victim of both social training as well as proper instinct: the instinct to serve a strong mare.

"Be silent, young stallion."  No shout was necessary on her end.  Ms. Wrongs knew - knew - her place in the world.  She knew exactly what she was in relation to these two colts and what they were to her.  Her confidence leaked readily into her voice.  There would be no argument.  With the rebellious youth temporarily cowed, Ms. Wrongs turned to the grey pegasus and smiled as sweetly as she could.  "Rumble obviously agreed under duress and is at no fault.  Isn't that right, Rumble?"

For a moment, she thought that perhaps she had underestimated the weaklings resolve.  She saw the truth warring with fear - proper fear, she knew, of a mare's wrath - and for just a bare moment Ms. Wrongs thought that perhaps her goal here would be undermined by the weakest of things: a young and powerless colt fearful of loosing a friend.  But only for a moment.

"W-w ... yes."  Relief at being offered a chance to escape, even at the cost of his own friend, washed over the terrified face of the youngling.  His earth pony compatriot sat with mouth agape at the betrayal, his eyes so full of hurt that even Ms. Wrongs had to blink at the depth of harm the pegasus had so easily fell to.  Like all males, he was weak.  Like all males, he was only as good as his faulty gender allowed.

"Rumble ..."  The pain that the little blue colt felt was so easy to hear.  His grey friend flipped his ears down, not wanting to hear the pain.  Not wanting to hear the betrayal.  Ms. Wrongs ignored it.  The pain wasn't the real goal.

"You may go, Rumble."  With a slight wave of her hoof, Ms. Wrongs dismissed the grey pegasus from her presence and her mind.  "I will be discussing the situation with young Mr. Belle here and will be taking him home personally once we are done."  With a mumbled 'yes'm,' the proper grey pegasus scrambled off the slightly too high a chair and plodded mournfully out of the room.  Neither colt looked at one another and Ms. Wrongs could swear she saw a glisten in their downcast eyes.

"Oh, and Mr. Rumble?  Just remember, we wouldn't want anypony to know where you or Blue have been tonight, right?"  Eyes suddenly growing huge with fear, the grey pegasus nodded as fast as he could and - at her second dismissive wave - bolted out of the door equally as fast.  The sound of his hooves echoed only for a moment until all was silent in the school house.

With the weakling out of the way, Ms. Wrongs focused solely on her youthful antagonist.  They had relocated to the school room proper with little fanfare, Ms. Wrongs taking the place of her employer and the uppity blue colt front and center in one of the many desks.  With a keen eye for merchandise, she studied her new prize.  Average size for a colt, unremarkable blue coloration of both coat and mane, well-groomed appearance if a slightly scruffy manecut. Purely average in every way.  But his eyes.  His golden eyes had such a harsh glare of steel in them.  Ms. Wrongs couldn't help but smile every time he turned those self-righteous eyes on her.  She couldn't help but feel a slight glow in her loins when she envisioned the fire she would need to soften that will, to break that steel.

"Mr. Belle."  His head snapped up at his name, those wonderful eyes focusing on her.  So filled with suspicion.  With anger.  Ms. Wrongs allowed herself a smile but purposefully kept it small and proper.  The indulgent smile of an adult rather than the toothy-grin of a predator.  "There has been a great deal of trouble between us.  Why is that?"

"You're mean."  The petulant child crossed his arms and glared at her.  He was rather adorable in his childish anger.  The way his brow creased just slightly, the way the corners of his mouth turned down just enough ... he was precious.  But his eyes always drew her.  Always his fierce and fiery golden eyes, the strength in them.  Untested strength.  Unsoiled, innocent strength.  Blinking to clear her mind, Ms. Wrongs raised a single eyebrow in response and the colt took this as invitation to continue.  "You're not like Ms. Cheerilee is."

"Hmmph.  I'm 'mean'."  Ms. Wrongs stood slowly, the contempt almost dripping out of her mouth.  The blue colt in front of her blinked in startled confusion.  Once more she fought a desire to give him a toothy grin.  She doubted he had ever been talked to in quite a tone before.  Weak mares with weak minds had been his caretakers.  He deserved better, stronger.  A mare to make and mold him.  With a snort, she rose herself above his eye-level - his beautiful golden eyes that were getting larger in slowly growing fear.  "I'm only mean to little colts that need some discipline in their lives.  To know what is expected of them once they're out of this farce of a school."

"Huh?"  Fear and confusion blended on his face.  He had never been talked to with such undisguised derision before - hidden behind the all-powerful indulgence of mares perhaps but never outright.  Despite the slight elation his fear caused her, Ms. Wrongs clamped down on her giddiness.  Once misstep here and all would be for naught.

"Do you really think you'll need to know anything I'm forced to try to shove into that worthless little brain of yours?"  With a look of utter disgust, Ms. Wrongs dropped to all fours and trotted briskly out from behind her employer's desk.  Her tail swishing behind her in a vulgar display of desire, she allowed her scent to fill the air around the two of them.  "Once you're out of these doors, there is one place - one fate - for you and all the little tomcat colts; firmly behind a strong mare where you belong."

"Wha-no!  No, you're wrong!  I can be anything I wanna be!  I-I can be a, a guard or -"  The combination of bare disgust in her face and the smell of blatant desire from her marehood seemed throw the poor dear's mind into a spiral.  A faint blush of heat crept over his cheeks and the poor boy shifted slightly in his seat as the pheromones of a powerful mare began to sink into his mind.  She could almost taste him already ...

"Or what?  A guard for that Princess in Canterlot?  Eyecandy so she can ogle your flanks but never touch you?  Is that what you want to be, Blue?  An untouched and unloved little colt?"  Ms. Wrongs slid around him, circling her prey as her tail flicked her desire back and forth.  His head, strangely fuzzy from the weird smell, twisted in an attempt to keep her in view.  Only the habit of staying seated in class kept him from pacing with her.

"You're mean!"  He blinked uncertainly at her, his eyes watering in distress and fright.  Delicately, gently ...

"Oh Blue."  Ms. Wrongs stopped her circling at the side of his desk and reached a hoof out to stroke his cheek.  Never mind how he flinched away from her touch.  Never mind his fear-filled eyes.  Never mind the burning in her haunches or the slight damp spot under her dock.  With a soft touch, Ms. Wrongs gently turned her prey to face her.  Never mind that small but growing pink spot on his glorious blue belly.  Never mind that musky smell of want that was growing as well.  "Blue, it's a hard truth.  But it is true.  Other than a guard, what could you be?  A farmer - no, even there you'd just pull a plow while all the planning is done by the simple mare farmer.  A musician?  At best, you'd play for your mares' friends.  What more can you be, Blue?"

"My momma said -sniff - I can be whatever I wanna be," he sniffled as a few tears fell from his muzzle.  The small colt's will wilted under her gently indulgent smile and his head fell.  He knew his place, he just fought it because he didn't know any better.  Because weak mares taught him wrong.  Because he needed guidance and discipline.

"She doesn't want you to be hurt, Blue.  Hey."  With her hoof still on his wonderfully sad face, Ms. Wrongs lifted his head up, forcing him to look her in her eyes.  "Hey, she wanted you to be happy and this truth, this one honest truth, wouldn't do that.  She was hoping you'd be able to be happy and young for just a little longer.  And, well, look where that's gotten you."  The soft patter of droplets on window and desk signaled the beginning of the storms.  With a gentle touch, she brought his head to rest against her chest.  "You need to know your place, Blue.  You need to learn what it means to be a stallion."

With one hoof holding his tear-streaked face up, her other hoof finally found him - peeking out of his sheath so shyly.  Ms. Wrongs gently circled his stallionhood, the tip of her hoof brushing the flare ever so lightly.  At first, the colt said nothing.  Perhaps he thought it a mistake or a 'tummy rub' that went too far down.  As she began to stroke him, however, something finally clicked and she felt him tense against her.  His head jerked against her suddenly firm grip and though she could not see it, she could hear the fear and confusion in his voice.

"M-Ms. Wrongs?  Wh-what are you-"

"Shhh, shhh.  This is the most important part of your body, right here."  With her free hoof, she patted his growing member lightly, smirking as the colt jerked against her with each tap.  "This is where your whole life comes together, where your life will revolve around.  This is what your mares will want, what your momma wants to keep for herself and what your whole life comes down to.  This part, right here."

They both fell silent as Ms. Wrongs began to stroke him again.  He squirmed under her touch, his small hips alternatively pulling away from her ministrations and thrusting into them.  His weak male mind knew what it ought to do but his will was still fighting it.  With her forelock crooked, she trapped his member between his own belly and her arm.  Long stroke up the shaft with a short flick on his flare ...

"Bu-bu-I, mmm, that feels so funny Ms. Wrongs."  He leaned ever so slightly into her, seeking reassurance and protection.

For a moment, Ms. Wrongs considered pushing him away and upright - making him accept her actions without the comfort of her body.  Making him cum again and again until he was a blubbering mass of worthless colt sitting in his own fluids.  But the fire in her own loins was distracting.  Her smell mixed with his, the spice of her arousal mixing with the musk of his.  It had been too long since she had taken a male as was her right.  It had been too long since she had lost her toys.  And so she accepted his touch.  For now.

"Hmmm, it would the first time."  With her free arm, she rubbed his shoulders as he burrowed slightly into her chest.  His head was exactly the right height and she inhaled deeply from his mane.  His scent was intoxicating - so clean, so fresh.  So young ... such a clean colt outside but she knew that if she were to strip away the enforced trappings of a mare's civilization, she'd find a different colt altogether.  Filthy.  Dirty.  He stiffened at the sudden movement.

"I-I don't think-" his thought went unfinished, drawing into a gasp as she nipped and nibbled at his ear.  Even when he attempted to force it down against his skull, she followed with her mouth.  Pulling and nibbling.  Marking him with scent and touch.  Tasting his clean pelt, smelling his male-perfume.  Idly, Ms. Wrongs noted his member had become slightly slick with fluid.  His dribblings.

"Hush, colt."  The firmness of her voice caught him, reminded him of who she was.  Of her place in the world - and of his.  "You are not required to think - only to feel."

"Hnnng."  His groan echoed deeply into her chest as his body began to lose itself to instinct just as a male should when a mare wants him.  Her strokes became faster, the slap of his stallionhood against his belly a counterpoint to the pitter-patter of rain against the windows.  The smell of musk overpowered the smells of paper and chalk the schoolroom was known for.  His hips were thrusting regularly now as her hoof sped him along a road he hadn't known was there.  Ms. Wrongs couldn't see her toy's face but she could imagine it - teeth clenched in confused concentration, his ears laid back, his eyes squeezed as tight as he could.  His whines and whinnies of tension soon matched his hips and she could tell he was close.  So close - ah!

With her stroking hoof, she squeezed the base of his cock just as he would have orgasmed.  His throat opened and a desperate plea-like moan, long and half formed, tore itself out of his throat.  His hips thrust hard against her hoof and he grabbed at nothing as if the orgasm that was denied him could be pulled back bodily from the aether.

"Ah ah."  Ms. Wrongs held his wiggling form close to her chest.  She could feel some dampness in her pelt and one small spot that was more damper then the rest where his closed eye rested.  Rain of a different sort.  "Not yet.  Not yet."

"Puh-please.  It, it feels so -" he moaned once more as his hips began to calm, searching for a word to describe the sensation, "- so full.  Please Ms. Wrongs.  Please."

"Not yet, colt," she growled through her predatory grin.  "We have to make sure you don't get too dirty, you filthy little whorse."

At her words, the colt whimpered.  He felt dirty.  He felt wrong.  He felt nasty and bad, as if it was his fault this was happening.  He was a dirty colt and he didn't want to be.  He wanted to be clean, he wanted to be nice but the pressure was so much.  Ms. Wrongs' hoof hurt and his - he throbbed so hard.  It hurt, please let the hurt go away.

After another moment, Ms. Wrongs relaxed her hoof and the barest trickle of semen wound its way down his shaft.  An evil thought entered her mind and she stroked his swollen and throbbing cock upwards, eliciting another moan as she gathered his waste on her hoof.  As she reached the tip of his member, she rubbed it roughly and his moan of need became a squeak of pain.  But only for a second as she let her hoof trail along his belly and up to his muzzle.  His nostrils flared as he smelled his dirty scent and his ears - only recently returned upright - pressed hard against his skull as the smell filled him.

"Lick."

"Wha-" his question was cut short as she tightened her grip around his chest and forced her hoof to his lips.  He struggled against her, whimpering into her hoof and his dirty waste.

"I said lick."  Though her voice was low, he could hear the anger in it.  The violence.  The promise of pain.  The colt began to lick the hoof that was almost pressed into his mouth with tears streaming down his face, whimpering as best he could around the invader.  "Good colt.  Good colt."  As the colt in her arms cleaned his waste from one of her hooves, she began to stroke his side with the other.  He was shivering despite the warmth of her body.  The rain began to fall harder - the comforting patter of raindrops on the roof turning into a drumming as the pegasus-fueled storm unleashed its pent up fury.  The scent of their entwined musk mixed with the smell of rain and ozone as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

After a short time, Ms. Wrongs removed her hoof from the colt's mouth, letting his whimpers escape.  She smiled warmly at the confused little creature and hugged him against herself.  She could almost taste his fear and desire as they mixed in his underdeveloped male brain.

"Now it's time you returned the favor, colt," she whispered, turning his tear-streaked face up to her smile.  His eyes, his eyes still held a strength in them but it was subsumed by the confusion and fear.  He as a good little colt who listened to his teachers - even if it hurt.  Even if it hurt.  Ms. Wrongs drew him from his chair to the cold floor and - with one hoof holding his head gently and firmly - she lay back to expose her fortress to him.

Her glistening need coated her pelt and the colt' nostrils flared at her scent as his golden eyes widened.  He had seen such things before, of course.  Walking behind a mare would ensure that - but to see her pink petals opened and damp was another thing entirely.  The smooth outer walls had opened, her purple coat giving way to twin flesh-pink inner lips.  A small nub at the top of her fortress throbbed in delectable need and the entire structure was bathed in her moist desire.  In her smell and taste.  In her.  Ms. Wrongs held back a chuckle at his wide-eyed wonder.  "Lick, colt."

"Wh-what?"  Again, his untrained and weak mind was scrambling for information.  Her hoof gripped his hair roughly and he cried out in surprise.

"You do not need to think colt."  With her mare's strength, she forcibly lowered his head down towards her pink fortress.  He gasped in surprise as his muzzle was brought to within an inch of her swollen and soaked marehood.  "You need to feel and do.  And I said to lick."  Whimpering, the blue colt - that nasty whorse - stuck is tongue out and harshly pushed against her mound.  Ms. Wrongs hissed through her clenched teeth as the inexperienced colt began to roughly attempt to lick her.  Through one barely opened eye, she could see his face screwed up in discomfort - his eyes squeezed shut and his tongue stretched out as far as it would go.  With the hoof still holding his hair, Ms. Wrongs gave his head a slight shake.  "Do you like that taste?"

One golden eye cracked open as the colt between her legs searched her eyes for the correct answer.  It took a bit of concentration not to laugh at his fearful gaze but she was patient.  After a short timespan, he nodded hesitantly and a predatory smile graced her muzzle once more.

"Then enjoy it."  With that, she buried his muzzle into her folds and let her fluids stain his lips.  She could feel him fighting against her, hear his gasps of air and short sobs every time she allowed him a reprieve.  His wiggling head lent just enough stimulation to entice her but not enough for completion and - wrapping her hind hooves around his head to keep him in place - she let go of his hair for just enough time to rap his head.  "Don't forget your tongue, toy."

Sobbing and gasping, the colt fought but she was too strong for him.  Her legs kept him from backing away and his head in the position it should be.  His tears stained her legs a dark purple as he thrashed against her, mumbling and crying as her smell and her flavor filled his world.  As she filled his world and pushed out his old hopes, his old dreams.  She was his everything - as a mare should be to her stallion.  To her colt.

After a short time, his thrashing calmed and his panting and sobbing mouth pressed into her folds almost willingly.  The inexperienced tongue of the colt lashed at her and Ms. Wrongs let a dark chuckle escape.  He was trying to hurt her with his tongue.  How precious.  Despite his intent, the wiggling muscle flicked against her most precious nub more regularly and she found it harder to hold his head in place with the electric jolts racing through her body.  Each time the slick and rough surface of his dirty tongue slid across her hidden peak, her hooves loosened slightly with only slight tugs to keep his mouth on target.

Soon, his head was held in place only by the fear of removing it and she could lay back and enjoy his clumsy ministrations.  Unlike some of her similarly-inclined 'peers,' Ms. Wrongs relished his feeble and halting movements.  Some might have sought to rush the training of one so young - all the quicker to receive better treatment - but not one so experienced as her.  Slow and careful teaching produced a much more intuitive colt.  One who could better read their mares.  One who would better serve as was their lot in life.

"Lick there."  Her voice was shaky with desire despite her firm resolve as she guided his filthy tongue with slight nudges of her hind legs.  Drawing him to caress her secret lips, to part and slip into her fortress walls.  The outer ones were coated in her need - coating in turn her toy's muzzle and filling the air and his being with the smell of her desire - while the inner walls begged for an invader to crush.  To hold.  To keep and drain - and always her hidden peak throbbing her need.  His wet tongue easily parted her swollen walls and she gasped as he dove deeper into her.  It was not enough of course - a tongue inserted was no challenge - but it was enough for now.

The rain's patter was inter-spaced with growls and gasps as the dirty colt drove her up the incline toward her goal.  The smell of ozone had long been overpowered with the smells of need and through slitted eyes Ms. Wrongs could see the colt's look of concentration - as well as the movement of his hips as he thrust unconsciously at the ground.  His mind was filled with her and only her now.  The steel and fire behind his eyes dulled through desire and the painful throb of his own tool.  It was time and with a renewed energy, she gently tightened her legs around his head and drew him slightly up until all that was centered on her peak.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't you dare stop you dirty little whorse, fuck my pussy with your mouth oh goddess yes - right there you disgusting little ... filthy ... whorse."  A whinny tore free from her throat as the hot wave washed over her.  Her mind blanked and all that was and all that could be found itself buried at the top of her secret fortress.  A hot and powerful throb of electric pleasure raced through up her spine and through her limbs and wedged itself into her mind and soul and oh goddess it was almost painful and he better not ever stop with his filthy, nasty tongue oh goddess oh goddess oh Luna and Celestia "YES."

Suddenly, the rough surface of his tongue felt like knives and she roughly shoved him away from her still-damp cunt.  Arcs of pure white fire shot through her as Ms. Wrongs hissed and gasped at the sudden sensitivity of all her senses.  Her nose was awash in her scent - all else drowned out in her.  The rain's patter on the windows became the torrent of a Canterlot waterfall while the gasping half-sobs of her toy became as shouts.  The dim light of the classroom cut through her tightly squeezed eye lids like the bright light of an interrogation room.  Every movement was a blissful agony, every sensation a torturous joy.  She lay there for a moment, shivering at the aftershocks.

A deep shuddering breath.  Ms. Wrongs raised herself with one hoof and looked down at the curled and shaking form of her toy, smoothing her now-wild and damp hair with her other.  He was so small there - so hurt.  His will was broken - through pain, fear and an alien desire that flooded his mind with strange thoughts.  The fire in her loins had melted the ice at his core, burning away the slag and leaving the pure form of an unshaped male behind.  To form him would take time and effort but Ms. Wrongs was a good pony.

"Blue."  Her voice rang out clear and unsoiled by the disgust that had laced it before.  He curled tighter despite that and she had to fight a sneer away from her face.  He was a weak male, his weakness as plain as the salt-tinged drops on the floor.  "Blue, that is your purpose.  But it's not all bad - there is more."  He sobbed in response and Ms. Wrongs rolled her eyes at his theatrics.  Forgoing words, the policemare-turned-teacher rolled onto her feet and nudged at the shaking form insistently.  Despite his crying protests, she finally turned him onto his back and looked at his still-swollen member with a keen eye.  The blood had engorged it and though it remained purely average for his age, she found a hunger in her belly.

The pink almost glowed against his blue underbelly and it was all that she could do not to take him right there.  The way his cock flared just so at the tip, the way his small blue balls were held so closely to his body by no means he could control, the way it spasmed and jerked with the alien desire burning away everything that had been him.  The way his hooves covered his face in shame at being watched so callously.  His private area hurt and why was he thinking of that mare in a special way?  It hurt, please make it stop.  Mommy make it stop.

"I want to go ho-o-ome," he begged.  He begged.  Ms. Wrongs smiled at his moaning and sobbing form.  Yes, it was proper to reward good behavior.

"Blue, it's ok.  I can make it feel better."  She didn't let the shaking of his head deter her, settling in next to his prone form and running a hoof up against his side.  Catching his flailing hooves as he tried to fend her off was simple and he was soon pressed against her, sobbing into her pelt as she began to stroke him once more.  "Shhh, it's ok Blue.  It's okay to like this.  I know you do."

"Nooo."  His muffled reply was answered by an unseen frown.  Of course he lied, a mare's civilization had beaten it into his head that this was 'wrong.'  A mare's civilization, built for mares and with mares in mind.  Such a waste but it had to be done.  Besides, his hips told a different story as they awkwardly tried to thrust into her hoof as she stroked his pink shaft lightly.

"Shhh, it's ok to like it.  You don't have to lie - you're already a dirty little colt."  Unable to respond, he shook his head violently against her.  He wasn't a dirty colt, he wasn't - he didn't want to be!  Her hoof slid up and down his private part, making him squirm and shift against her as best he could.  It hurt, stop it, please make it stop - he was sorry.  She shifted next to him, pushing him down with her chest as she began to kiss along his belly - like his mommy did when she was done tickling him.  The two thoughts clashed in his mind - his mother's protective hugs warring with Ms. Wrongs' bad touches.  It hurt worse to know that they felt the same.

Slowly she kissed along his barrel, ignoring the sobs and occasional cries for mommy from her toy.  Eventually, her lips felt an unfurred pink thing - salty and warm, throbbing and jerking.  Wrapping her lips around the flared head, she slowly let his taste sink into her being.  Musky - like a stallion should be - but lacking just a hint of something.  An unfinished flavor, unrefined.  Untainted.  He throbbed in her mouth and a low moan escaped his lips as he felt the warm and wet mouth encircle him.  A small drop of wet oozed from his swollen tip and Ms. Wrongs flicked it up with her tongue.  The thrash from underneath her told her how close he was - but it was not yet time.  She had only just gotten a taste of him - she wanted to savor the moment.

With an agonizing slowness, she took his full length into her.  He was small - barely a muzzleful - but that made it so much sweeter for that.  Ms. Wrongs slowly stroked his length with her tongue, gaining a few drops of precious flavor for her troubles.  Putting just a small amount of suction on him, she drew back and savored the swell of taste as he groaned out his desire to the world.  His desire for her mouth and pussy, for her.  With a wet pop she let him loose again - only to sink her head down once more to repeat the process.  Slowly, ever so slowly, she worked at his length with lips and tongue.  His medial ring was so small and yet so firm.  It bounced with each jerk, shifting under the flesh just slightly.  Through cracked lids, she could see his balls contracting against his groin as she slowly - an agonizing, blissful slowness - raised him along the same steep path she had forced him to push her along.

The only warning was a tensing of his muscles and a howl-like moan before he burst into her mouth.  The taste was so sweet - so young and full of life and energy - that she didn't even mind the first spurt shooting into her throat.  The next two were captured on her tongue as the first slowly slid down into her belly.  Such a sweet taste, with that hint of salty flavor that told exactly what it was.  It was candy, it was ambrosia, it was nectar and fruit.  It was bread and water.  It was everything - and took Ms. Wrongs' total control not to greedily lap it up as was her right.  Five spurts, seven, ten ... the moaning of unknown pleasure slowly turned to whimpers of discomfort as he drained himself into her mouth.  Fifteen, twenty - enough!  With a burst of will, she drew her head back and fought the urge to swallow as her toy gasped out in relief.  A single further jerk sent a strand across his belly and onto her chest - much to her displeasure.

Ignoring the slight insult, Ms. Wrongs turned her head to face him - the filthy colt laying in a puddle of tears and sweat, gasping and moaning at the world.  The fire in his eyes was ... gone.  A stab of guilt was thoroughly crushed by all the years of knowing her place and her rights and she regarded her new toy with cold uncaring eyes.  Now, he was just like every other colt.  Except this one was hers.  With a sick smile, she leaned down and forced her lips to his, feeding the confused yet exhausted colt his own flavors.  Nineteen spurts worth were pushed into his mouth and he swallowed - as a proper colt should when given such a gift.

"Now, I expect you here bright and early Mr. Belle."  With a final lick, the mare that had ruined him lapped up the errant trail of his wasted essence, savoring the flavor once more before raising herself from the floor.  The blue colt-toy lay there, mindless and numb with a distant broken look to his eyes.  Snorting at the weakness of males, she turned and trotted out the door.  "And clean yourself up before you leave, you stink of filth."

The half-hearted sobs that answered assured her that her broken toy would be a nice and pliant thing - in school as well as after.