So this is what it feels like?

If you ask me, I’d say I have at most a purely professional interest in bondage. I get paid to get ponies out of it when something has gone wrong for them, and to be on call during shifts when nothing goes wrong – which happily is most of them. But I’ve never had any desire to get anypony into bondage, or to be tied up myself.

That’s part of the reason why I have the job in the first place. Our boss, Hissy Fit, tries to avoid candidates who would be too excited by the nature of the work.

Of course, as a scientist (or, well, at least a scientist-in-training) I must confess to a certain curiosity about what makes our clients voluntarily subject themselves to this. What do they get out of the experience? What is it they experience? Hissy Fit sometimes says there would be an informational bondage session in the training program for new employees, except she likes to be able to keep misbehaving workers in line by the threat of giving them that first taste. Nopony ever really knows if she’s joking. On one hoof she’s the kindest, calmest, most balanced pony you could ever imagine, despite her name. On another, it is said she was a professional dominatrix for years before she started the Service. She can certainly make good on the threat.

Thus, in the name of science and the advancement of equine understanding, how does it feel to be tied up and left in a room by myself, not knowing how long this is going to last and what will happen?

So far: just about as boring as one would expect. And so far, less physically uncomfortable than one would expect. I’m on my back, but I can fold my wings in and out with some difficulty, if I squirm a bit and take them one at a time. And I probably have enough squirming range to avoid pressure ulcers. We do learn about those in orientation.

It’s a peculiar form of boredom, though. For one thing, I seem to have this persistent erection that only becomes harder when I think of how inconvenient and embarrassing it would be if I still have it when she comes back. Drops of fluid drip down from it to my belly from time to time, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

Right, strictly professional interest. That, and science.

It had been easy enough to find the address of the highly irregular solo rescue Bellchaser had talked me into, the top floor of a two-storey villa on Camebury’s back slope. Nopony answered when I knocked, so I let myself in. The front door wasn’t even locked. Our customers do that sometimes – supposedly it adds to their excitement that anypony can walk right in.

I don’t think I’d dare leaving the door unlocked to an apartment as nice as the one I found inside. It was artfully furnished, definitely not a love nest or a bachelor pad. There was still no response when I called out, so I began searching the rooms one by one. One of them held only a grand piano and a giant oversized violin thingey, but still managed to be cozy and stylish all the same. I wondered which kind of pony lived here.

I found the client in a bedroom at the end of a hallway, lying across a bed such that I got a full view of her ass when I entered. Very nice ass too, grey and well-shaped, beneath a dark grey tail that went straight up into the air, held up by a pair of pink party balloons tied to its end. Something was written on them. ‘Welcome to Canterlot’ and ‘Happy birthday!’

She turned her head around to look at me with deep lavender eyes and an unreadable expression. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m bad at reading expressions when the pony’s mouth is filled with a big pink ball gag. That’s when I noticed how she was bound, hind hooves on the floor tied to a spreader bar, forelegs hoofcuffed and stretched across the bed in front of her, tied down with a chain that went down on the other side of the bed.

I will admit I stared. You would too, I think. Most of our customers seem to go for extreme tack, straps and rubber all over to the extent that it tends to obscure the pony underneath. As I’ve said, that doesn’t do much for me. Even if it is less extreme, as with Mr. Warmblood earlier in the morning, I’d look at him and see only a diaper and that dog collar. I couldn’t even tell you what color he was. But this, this looked like it was designed to call attention to the actual mare before me. It helped that she was a very pretty mare. No, that’s not the right word. She was a beautiful mare. Beautiful and sexy.

I’m not sure how long I spent taking in that sight. I hope it was seconds rather than minutes. Eventually I was aware of her raising a jet black eyebrow at me. That snapped me out of it. Right, I had a job to do.

“Good morning, ma’am, I’m with The Rescue Service. Looks like you need a hoof here?” I went over to her head end and reached around her to unfasten the gag. The rule is to establish communication with the client as soon as possible.

She took some time working her jaw back and forth before actually speaking. “Hmm, I could use a drink, I do believe.” She smiled in a way that would have been charming if not for the drool still hanging around the edges of her mouth. Well, bugger it, this mare was charming either way.

“Right, ma’am, just as soon as we get you free here. Do you have the keys to those cuffs around somewhere?” I hoped this wouldn’t be another one who didn’t have the keys. Bellchaser had taken the angle grinder with her when she ran off, and it would be difficult to get purchase on these shackles with the hacksaw without hurting the client’s pasterns.

The client didn’t answer immediately, but instead got a thoughtful look. “Say, aren’t there supposed to be two of you?”

Of course the day we bent the rules a bit had to be the day we got a client who’d actually read them. “Yes, ma’am, usually. But my colleague had to, um, run an errand.” I scraped at the carpet with my foreleg as I tried to find a good way to explain. “I assure you I’m fully qualified to –”

“You are?” she said teasingly. “I wonder if I would hear the same story if I called your head office now.”

“Um, please don’t do that. I’m sure I can get you rescued to your full satisfaction.”

“Hmm. . . it just feels like I’m not getting my money’s worth here, with only half a team being sent out.”

I wasn’t really sure I followed her. Was this some kind of rich-pony joke? “Is there anything specific you were expecting, ma’am?”

“Well, all of this” – she tossed her head to indicate her bound state – “was meant to be a birthday surprise for somepony special who would arrive on the morning train. But the train must have had trouble; somehow they always seem to be late or canceled when my friend is supposed to be on them.” She sounded a bit bitter. “And now I seem to be getting no action at all. But you’re either a five-legged mutant or really happy to be here, so perhaps you could rescue me from boredom as well as from these bonds, hmm?”

I was aware that Finey Jr. had dropped down and was quietly swelling between my legs. That happens to stallions sometimes, of course. It’s considered polite to pretend not to notice.

I wasn’t sure I ought to like where this was going, but I needed to get the job done before I started protesting too much. “Right, ma’am. Let’s just get you free, and then you can –”

“No!” she stopped me. “You’re the one making up for your substandard service, so you come to me. Stand here, forelegs on the bed, then crawl forward. You will know when I can reach. Or should I just file a complaint instead?”

I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. But apparently she was offering to suck me and not rat me out to Hissy Fit for coming alone, which frankly seemed like a win-win to me at the time. I’d been single for longer than I cared to, and have I mentioned what a beautiful, sexy mare this was? It was a bit weird to do it while she was still tied up, but as I said I don’t really understand what ponies get themselves tied up for anyway.

So I did as she told me, planting my forehooves on each side of her head, and inching in above her until I felt the wet tip of her tongue touch the flat head of my dick. The touch made my whole body freeze up, and I realised just how sensitive my shaft had become to a mare’s touch. Maybe I should have listened to Bellchaser when she said I should spend a little more time on, um, personal care – even if that conversation had gotten a bit awkward.

Ooh, but how good that tongue felt. It was hard to keep myself still as her long tongue worked its way back across and then down my shaft. A spurt of pre soon showed her exactly how good of a job she was doing, and I let out a long moan, then a sudden surprised grunt when she actually tugged on it using nothing but her tongue wrapped around the shaft.

I nearly fell over on top of her, and would certainly have crushed her if I hadn’t had wings to flap. I regained my footing while letting out a long ragged breath. “Tha-ahat’s quite the tongue you have there. Mmmph!” I grunted. The tip of her tongue brushed against my balls and I could feel I was about to come right there.

No! It couldn’t be over already! Quick, think of something different and non-sexy. The characteristic polynomial of an anticyclic algebra – she drew her tongue back across my sheath and up along the shaft – generates the canonical homomorphism – her lips closed around the head and she began moving them down while massaging the head with her warm wet tongue – between the polynomial ring which feels so good – she began emitting an almost musical hum that went right through the shaft up to my spine – and the soft, wonderful algebra – her head moved back with a soft slurping sound while she tickled my balls with the cold chain between the hoofcuffs – correction, it generates the nuts, I mean, the kernel of the homomorphism – her tongue wrapped around the head again, and she pulled free with a wet smack, and leaving my cock exposed to the cold air of the room – taking the unknown to the, the ass and tail bobbing up and down in front of me –

It was no use. Something began pumping inside me and I was powerless to stop it. “Fffuck!” I shouted as I felt the first of it leaving me. Somehow she had me in her mouth again, and I felt her pushing me further into it while I spent myself, massaging my balls with her forehooves, encouraging me to give her every last drop I could.

What a mare.

And that, more or less, is why I ended up here, spread-eagled on a bed with all my hooves tied down while I wait to find out what my fate, or punishment, or whatever, is going to be. It’s nopony’s damn fault but my own.

Somehow I’m not as afraid as I probably ought to be. I can’t quite decide whether it’s because I’m admirably rational and not letting myself panic about what is plainly outside my control by now, or because I’m actually scared shitless and my faculty for being terrified has shut down from overload. Probably a little of both.

Or perhaps it’s just because I got laid and there still seems to be some hope that it will stay that way. Finey Jr. here certainly seems to think so.

There’s music floating into the room from somewhere nearby – a deep keening tune that suddenly accelerates into a jumble of tones, and then starts over, again and again. Very soothing, when you get used to the jolt where it stops and starts over from the beginning. I could probably keep time by counting the repetitions, but what for? I don’t know how long I have to wait anyway.

“Why is it that you’re supposed to be two ponies for rescuing someone?”

She asked it in a conversational tone, after I’d climbed down from the bed and was standing next to it, trying to catch my breath. She had swallowed, I think. At least there were no splotches of jizz anywhere I could see.

I gave her the usual spiel. “Well, in our line of work we often come across clients in positions where they would be easy to take advantage of. When there’s two of us we can keep an eye on each other, as a guarantee that won’t happen.”

“Hmm, positions . . . like me?”

I looked over at her, still bound on the bed. That ass sure looked inviting still. “Yeah, now that you mention it, that would be a prime example.” I wondered what her cutie mark meant, a purple doodle that looked vaguely like the co-par operator from affine logic.

“And what did you do just now?” There was a sudden edge in her tone, one that I didn’t like at all.

“Well, that, that was different. You asked for it, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” She sounded bemused. “I do distinctly remember you putting your thing into my mouth and pumping it full of semen, with me being all tied up and not in a position to resist. As for me asking you to do that . . . I dunno, it sounds like the kind of thing it might be very difficult to convince anypony of.”

Shit. “You . . . you wouldn’t! . . . would you?” If she did, I would almost certainly lose my job. Possibly even end up in jail. Oh princesses, what had I done?

“I might.” She paused for just long enough for me to imagine my whole life falling apart. Fired, expelled from the Institute, scorned by my family and thrown into a dark, dank cell somewhere, to be beaten and kicked like I’ve always thought rapists deserve to be. The room spun, and it seemed to be getting darker, and I thought I was about to throw up.

“Or . . . hmm, it is just barely possible that I could remember asking you.” Her voice brought me back to reality, and I saw her smile warmly before her eyes narrowed. “If you do exactly what I tell you to.”

I was vaguely aware of how pathetic I was being, pouncing at the first sliver of hope she offered me. But I didn’t really have any choice, did I? “Yes . . . yes!” I begged. “Anything you want. Please.”

“Who am I?” she asked.

Huh? I remembered what the work slip had said. “I’m assuming you’re O. Melody.”

“Oh?” She frowned. “That’s not good enough. You will call me mistress.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes, mistress.” The word felt funny in my mouth.

“Good.” She smiled again. “So you have had your fun; now it’s my turn. You’re going to make me come.”

“Certainly, ma’am, mistress. Any particular way mistress would prefer?” I tried my best to sound professional and experienced, though I didn’t feel it at all. The marefriends I’ve had were not very adventurous – just a lot of hugging and kissing, nuzzling, nibbling and pecking, ending with the good old eight-legged pony if she was in a good mood. Truth to be told, that’s about my speed too. One of them wanted to try a blowjob, just out of curiosity, but she didn’t seem to like it and broke up with me not long after. I’ve read about other things in magazines, of course, but it is hard to know how much of that is for real, and how much is just made up to get the readers off.

“Haha. Just get back there and start licking.”

I could do that, I supposed. I went around the bed and put my face up to her ass (oh, that ass!), sticking out my tongue and running it carefully up along her marehood. Then I licked a few times more, making certain to cover the entire thing. I’m not quite sure what I had expected to taste – but it was neither as bad as I could have feared given the proximity to her anus, nor as heavenly as some of The Literature had promised me. Mostly like old sweat, in fact, salty and a bit sour. Well, I would probably be –

“You’re pretty new at this, aren’t you?” she said.

I stopped licking. “Yes,” I mumbled, admitting defeat. “Um, mistress, I mean. I’m sorry.” Did I fail already? There must be something I could do to earn her forgiveness, or mercy or whatever I was earning.

She sighed. “Okay, we’re going to do this a bit differently. First you’ll have to free my legs. Keys are on the nightstand.”

So they were. I could have avoided all this if I’d just kept my eyes about me. I unlocked the hoofcuffs, and she had me untie her hind legs too, even though we usually free the client only just enough that they can help themselves the rest of the way. It lets them recover some dignity and helps ensure repeat business, says Fizzy.

This client didn’t have any dignity missing, though. She rolled onto her back, stretched, and then lay pouncing at the air with all her legs, like a foal on the first day of spring. It looked so darn cute I almost forgot I was in trouble and desperately needed to get on her good side somehow. Almost.

“Now back to licking!” She swung a leg around in the air, sweeping her tail and the still attached balloons out of the way so I could get at her marehood again, now upside down. I moved in cautiously, not sure how to do better this time.

“Here.” She reached down with a foreleg and rudely pulled my head a few inches forwards. “Tongue goes in, as far as you can before your muzzle is in the way, and then you have at it like the fate of Equestria depends on you until I tell you to stop.”

“Mmmph!” I did my best to do as she said. It, it appeared, was a growth of flesh right in front of my tongue, which I concluded – once I mentally got my knowledge of female anatomy rotated through 180° – must be her clit. I massaged it as best I could.

This seemed to work better, because for some time all she said was “Yes, like that” and “More” and “Faster”. I felt her hind legs close around the back of my neck, pinning my head against her crotch, and I decided I could well get used to this. Eventually her breathing grew erratic and she started squirming a bit beneath me. And then she relaxed and let out a long, contented sigh.

That didn’t get me off the hook yet, though she had me leave her marehood alone for a bit and instead nuzzle around in her belly fur, nibbling gently at her teats. Then she pulled me closer towards the front end of her belly, and I had to scramble getting my forelegs past and around her hind ones so I could reach.

I wasn’t even aware that I had a boner again until the front of it hit something and I gave a bit of a yelp. She felt it too. “Not that hole, please,” she said. “Move up about a hoofwidth”.

I hesitated, not sure I was really prepared to do anal. Then I realized that since she was lying on her back, legs towards the ceiling, the topmost hole would be the right one. I managed to lift myself up enough to hit it and slid into her. She was warm and soft and welcoming, better even than being sucked off, and I began thrusting back and forth, lost in the feeling. How long had it been since last time? Far too long.

Then it got through to my mind that I was actually fucking an upside-down mare, which I always thought only happened in porn. I looked about me, and found I could see her face, eyes shut, mouth opening and closing in a soundless chant. Usually you never get to see your partner’s face during the act. It was mesmerizing.

And so I managed to surprise myself again when I came, still inside her, and I collapsed down on her chest, and she wrapped her forelegs around me and hugged tightly, and for a long timeless moment we were one pony, more so than I’ve been with anypony before.

That was where I should have made my exit. This last time had at least been unambiguously consensual, so there’d be no foul and the client was well and truly rescued by now. I should have climbed down, thank you ma’am that was wonderful but I need to get going, give me a call sometime, alright? – and then be off.

But no, genius me just had to roll over beside her on the bed to enjoy a moment of quiet postcoital bliss first. Just a minute or two, idiot Finey, you. But she was quicker in recovery than me, or just more determined, because suddenly she was breathing into my right ear and gently stroking my wing. And I let her, because who tells a mare like that to stop grooming his feathers?

“You’re not really allowed to buck with customers like that, are you?” she whispered sweetly.

“Not really.” I smiled lazily and folded out the wing towards her so she could reach better. She’d given me a good scare before, but all was well now. She had opened herself up to me, and we had been one flesh. I felt pretty sure I loved her. Ergo she loved me too, right? Deductive fact.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen if somepony found out?”

I tried to imagine that. I’d be out of work, most likely. But next to having gained an awesome marefriend, that didn’t matter much. Of course things would get pretty bad if she went back to not remembering it had been her idea all the time. But she wouldn’t do that. Right?

Right?

“Mmmm.” She nibbled softly at my ear. “You’d better keep calling me mistress, don’t you think?”

So that’s the game she wanted to play. “Yes, mistress.”

She climbed up on top of me and lay lazily across my back for some time, burying her muzzle in my mane. I could feel her heartbeat against my withers and felt at ease with the world. More or less.

“Thing is,” she said eventually, “you’ve been an extraordinarily bad pony, and I don’t think I can let that go unpunished. Of course, it sounds like I can get somepony else to do the punishing just by making a few phone calls.” Suddenly she tugged hard at my mane, pulling my head up and backwards. “Wouldn’t that be easy?”

“No. Please.”

She wrapped her forelegs around my neck from behind. “But surely you see my problem. What is it you want me to do here?”

I had figured out where this was going, but I had to swallow a few times before I could actually say it. “I want you to punish me, mistress.”

She bit down on my left ear – not just a nibble, this actually hurt – and pulled on it, twisting my neck. “What’s the magic word?”

By then, if she had told me to divide by zero, I would just have to invent a way. “Please punish me, mistress!”

She made me wear the hoofcuffs and gag she had been bound with when I arrived, and tied my legs down to the corners of the bed. Then she left the room, saying I needed time to think about what I had done.

So I have. Mostly because I don’t dare to dwell on what might come next. And I’ve examined my proof that she loves me for flaws, and found that it consists of nothing but.

F- for logic, Finey. You bloody idiot.

How much time has passed? Minutes? Hours? The music must have stopped some time ago; I didn’t even notice.

She comes into the room again. “Enjoyed your break?” she asks brightly. I can’t answer her, bound and gagged as I am. She doesn’t seem to expect me to either.

“Looks like you’re eager to get on with your punishment, huh?” She reaches out with a flap of material at the end of a thin stick and runs it gently up the underside of my dick. My erection had been on the wane, but immediately it’s back at strength, pointing tall and proud towards the ceiling.

She waves the flap-on-a-stick around. “Ever been spanked with one of these before?” I know what it is: a riding crop. I can only stare at it and shake my head desperately.

“Oh, it’s your lucky day then. Lots of new experiences to have.” She starts humming to herself as she puts the crop down on the windowsill together with several other objects she was carrying. Some of them are long and thin, others short and bulby. I don’t like the look of it at all. Are all of those things going to be used on me?

Suddenly she gasps, looking out the window. “Shit!” She goes pale for a moment, and then rushes to the side of my bed, almost falling over herself before undoing the strap on the ball gag and yanking it out of my mouth. She plants a quick kiss on me. “You need to go now. My friend’s here,” she whispers. There’s panic in her voice.

“Your, um, special somepony?” I had forgotten about him.

“Yes! Must be on the stairs already. You must hide!”

I rattle my chains urgently. “I can’t move!” I thought I was afraid of her ‘punishment’ gear, but if her coltfriend finds me here . . . Looks like my faculty for being terrified was actually fully prepped and operational, just waiting for the right cue.

“I know!” she hisses. “I’ll get you free. Fuck, where did I put the hoofcuff keys?” She looks around the bedroom wild-eyed, then jumps to the dresser and starts pulling out drawers.

“Hurry!” I have no idea what happened to the keys. She took them after I freed her, didn’t she?

Suddenly she stops searching. “Hey, you’re a pegasus. You don’t need to hide, you can just fly off from the balcony.” She’s almost laughing with relief.

“Not while I’m chained to your bed I can’t. Find those keys!” Ye princesses, how did she suddenly turn from a shrewd schemer into an utter moron? Of course – her coltfriend is going to beat her up too. He’s the type to make her tie herself up for him, after all.

I hear the front door open. Fuckfuckfuck, here he comes –

“Tavi? Are you here? Shit, Tavi, I’m so so sorry for being late again. I swear, they should give a Yearling Award to the pony who writes the train timetables.” It’s a mare’s voice coming from the hallway. Ah, no wonder she wanted cock so h– urgh, somepony please slap me. I’ve got more important things to worry about.

The bedroom door opens and there’s a white and blue unicorn mare there, trying to take in what we’re doing. What does one say here – it’s not what it looks like? But that’s exactly what it is. I don’t get much time to ponder that before my client calmly reaches over and stuffs the gag back into my mouth.

“Oh, hi Vinyl,” she says, beaming. “Look what I found!”

The newcomer pushes up her shades and glares at me. Then she breaks into a wicked grin.

“Cool! Can I play too?”

“Darling, he’s all yours. I did warm him up a bit, but there’s plenty of fun left in him yet. Happy birthday!”

. . . this is gonna be a long, long day.

Author's Note

This chapter was co-written with Avorin.