The Rescue Service

Vinyl Scratch has a standing invitation to crash at Octavia’s place whenever she’s in Canterlot, provided she doesn’t wake her up when she inevitably comes home late, and doesn’t make a fuss if there’s a stallion in Octavia’s bed. The latter tends not to happen often if Vinyl announces her arrival in advance – stallions are fun, but Vinyl is the real deal. There’s never been any talk of having other mares over.

Today, therefore, Octavia wakes up alone and is not surprised to find Vinyl snoring on the sofa in her living room. She does her best not to wake her up until late mid-morning, when she slams a breakfast tray down on the coffee table in front of Vinyl.

Vinyl wakes up with a start and immediately begins pawing around for her shades, eyes shut in the bright morning light. Octavia puts them into her hooves, and she sits up, finally turning her attention to the table.

“Breakfast in bed? Cool! Aw, did you miss me that much?” It has been more than a week since Vinyl was in Canterlot last.

“All the better to surprise you when the whip comes out, my dear,” says Octavia with a toothy grin and pours herself a glass of orange juice. “How was your gig?”

“Ugh. Four hundred bratty kids in a gymnasium, and each and every one of them came up and wants to hear the Swan Gallop. I fucking refuse to play that trash.”

“Oh, poor you.” Octavia has only the haziest idea what the Swan Gallop is, which, given that even Vinyl won’t play it, she suspects she should be thankful for.

Vinyl picks out a toasted hay cake and starts spreading a generous layer of sweetpepper relish across it. “In the end I had to play the Beethoofen recording – you know, that one you’re on – and then go on mic and say I get one more request for the wretched thing and it’ll be string quartets for the rest of the party. Then they shut up.”

“So now I’m punishment?”

“Damn straight you are, Tavi. The best.” Vinyl munches on the hay toast for a while. “So, um, any plans for today?”

“Nothing in particular,” Octavia replies, not entirely truthfully. “Perhaps you’d like me to show you just how much punishment I can be?”

Vinyl brightens up. “You know it!”

“Do I? I thought perhaps after last week you’d found your true place on the other side.”

“Nah. I mean, it was cool and all to try it out – thanks, by the way – but, y’know, half the time I was like, why’s he get to have all the real fun? I know which end of a whip’s the fun one.”

Octavia smiles, losing a tension she wasn’t aware of before. “I think I can come up with something. You’ll want to use the bathroom first, though.”

“Sure!” Vinyl wolfs down the rest of her breakfast and disappears into the bathroom while Octavia gathers together a few necessary toys. When Vinyl comes out she’s already wearing her bridle, with a suppressor ring strapped into it.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Vinyl concentrates for a moment and the ring activates, absorbing her magic. That’s how the session starts.

The first thing Octavia does is to rip off Vinyl’s shades and slap her – not hard, but enough to show who’s boss. “What is this? Precious should know she’s not allowed to keep herself hidden from me.”

“I’m sorry, mistress. I forgot,” says Vinyl, blatantly lying on both counts since she’s also grinning from ear to ear. Keeping the shades on when she turns the ring on is a common gambit for her, a way to tell Octavia not to hold back.

“I don’t believe you.” Octavia tosses the shades unceremoniously across the room. “I think we’re going to have to plug that lying little mouth of yours.”

“What? No, mistress, I’m sorry! Please, not the gag. I’ll mh hmmmmhmm, mhmm mhm –” It’s a high-quality gag bit, not just a ball but an actual plug sculpted after Vinyl’s oral cavity. Octavia got it for her for last Hearth’s Warming.

Octavia waits for Vinyl to nod microscopically before she orders her to lie across the end of the sofa, with her head on the floor and her rump in the air. She sits down next to her and begins to apply a tail bandage, wrapping an elastic strip of fabric tightly round and round Vinyl’s tail starting from the dock. It is slow, soothing work, giving plenty of opportunity to pat Vinyl’s flanks and observe how her marehood is already moistening up in anticipation. Every so often she wipes it dry with the bandage material.

When there’s only a tuft of blue hair free at the end of the rod of pony tail and fabric Octavia has created, she ties off the bandage and stands up to admire the result.

“That’s my pretty precious. You can rise now – actually, get up and stand on the coffee table for me.”

“Hm mmh mhmmh?”

“Yes, just climb it, like this. Upsie! Don’t step in the relish, or kick he teapot. That’s right. Now just relax. Heeere comes a Wonderbolt!” Octavia stuffs a small vibrator, not switched on yet, into Vinyl’s pussy, and secures it with straps between her hind legs and around her barrel.

Then she brings out the roll of duct tape.

At first Vinyl stares at it in alarm, but she calms down a bit after Octavia pulls a cloth cap over her head, protecting her mane. She sets about wrapping Vinyl systematically with the tape.

There’s an art to wrapping a pony in duct tape, which is not to do it tightly. If you pull the tape taut while you wrap, it will stick to every little hair of the wrapped pony’s fur, and it’s going to hurt like tartarus to pull the tape off afterwards. What you want to create is a kind of loose tube around the limbs, lightly touching the fur in just enough places to stay put but otherwise hovering a fraction of an inch above it, ready with its sticky caress. It will keep the pony inside immobilized just fine, because she knows that the more she struggles, the more is her fur going to stick to the tape, and the worse will it be at the end of the day.

Vinyl is going to struggle. Oh, of course she is. Octavia is a firm believer in letting a pet work for their agony, but she’s not above actively provoking some struggle if it becomes necessary. And Vinyl has earned herself an extra helping of discomfort for today because of the irresponsibly rough way she treated the nice birthday present Octavia got for her. Octavia doesn’t approve of such crudity – something could have happened – –

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to seduce the pony from the Rescue Service. Octavia wasn’t really sure what she had expected – serious-faced ponies in suits or white coats, perhaps – but it certainly wasn’t the gawping twentysomething pegasus who showed up, sporting a hopeful little erection. He needed a bit of persuasion, but not much, and performed more with coltish enthusiasm than actual skill. Still charming enough in his own way, though.

They were just about to move on to the more interesting parts of Octavia’s repertoire when Vinyl arrived after all and Octavia quickly repurposed the stallion from consolation prize to birthday present. Vinyl had been dropping little hints for moons that she would like to have a go at topping, just once or twice, and Octavia couldn’t say no to her. In fact her original plan would have had Octavia on the bottom, herself the birthday present.

As soon as she saw how Vinyl went about dominating the stallion, however, she had to count herself lucky that this plan had fallen apart and she wasn’t the pony tied to the bed when Vinyl entered. Vinyl’s style was more crude bully or monster clown than the loving-but-firm mistress Octavia thought she had taught her to be, by example. Fortunately the stallion turned out to be a natural, staying stiff and erect through abuse that Octavia was sure would have led her to lose any appetite for carnal pleasures. When Vinyl finally decided she was bored and sent the stallion on his way, Octavia considered tipping him, but there must be limits to charity. At least no lasting harm had been done.

Several times during the ordeal, Octavia had to struggle to keep herself from saying something to rein Vinyl in. But a promise is a promise – if Vinyl was going to top, it wouldn’t do for Octavia to keep telling her what she could or couldn’t do. And in any case it would be unthinkable to take a stranger’s side against her marefriend in front of both of them. Loyalty is the glue that keeps a relationship together; you support your mate against the world and hash out your misgivings later.

Today is later. And Octavia has had a week to get her thoughts in order. So once Vinyl is properly mummified, there will be Words. Octavia is going so say all of them, and they are going to be about responsibility and respect and why that vibrator beneath the duct tape will not be turned on today after all. And then Vinyl will have a few hours to herself to think about them while Octavia attends a short non-rehearsal meeting at the Fillyharmonic, to learn the next season’s touring schedule and who the new concertmaster is going to be.

Octavia has a special treat ready for Vinyl for while she’s out: a set of magical noise-canceling headphones that the unicorn who sold them personally supercharged for her. She has tested them herself; they really do take away every sound. That should be educational for Vinyl. Octavia has long thought she has entirely too little appreciation for silence, the medium music lives in.

Afterwards, perhaps she will treat herself to a horn job, before she moves on to seeing how well the glue sticks today. Or not. There has to be some room for improvisation left.

The two strangers enter the living room just as Octavia steps back to look over her finished Vinyl, balancing on the coffee table.

“Good morning,” says the elder of them, a matronly unicorn whose bearing suggests she has years and years of experience with walking in unannounced on ponies who’re busy wrapping each other in duct tape. “Are you O. Melody?”

Octavia manages not to look visibly startled. Keeping your calm in all situations is half of getting what you want from ponies. She allows herself a raised eyebrow. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Hissy Fit, with The Rescue Service, and this is my associate Bellchaser.”

The associate who entered behind her is a younger unicorn, not quite as casually confident as her superior. She nods politely to Octavia but stays in the background.

The intruder holds out a hoof towards Octavia. “We have your key on file,” she explains, even though Octavia made a point of not asking how they got in.

“Octavia Melody,” she says pleasantly, shaking the hoof. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding, though. The rescue I booked shouldn’t be for several hours yet.”

“Yes, we’ll get back to that. For now, though, I understand you have a complaint to make about one of our employees?”

“A complaint? I do believe you’re mistaken.”

“Really?” The mare receives a clipboard from her assistant, and quickly scans the paper attached to it. “Hmm, yes. The incident we’re investigating is to have taken place during a rescue on this address, in the morning of the Saturday before last. Were you the pony being rescued on that occasion?”

That was Vinyl’s birthday. “Yes, as a matter of fact I was.”

Off to the side, Vinyl risks moving her neck to look quizzically at the other ponies. A short displeased stare from Octavia is enough to make her turn away again.

“The agent conducting that rescue,” continues Hissy Fit, “came back with the clear impression that you were dissatisfied with the level of service he provided and wanted to lodge a complaint. Am I to conclude that must have been a misunderstanding?”

Octavia wonders how he got that idea. On the contrary, she explicitly promised him when he left that she wouldn’t complain about him. Time to keep that promise. “Oh yes, definitely. In fact the, um, agent performed impeccably and to our full satisfaction.”

The other pony smiles broadly. “Very glad to hear that. I think that settles it, and our apologies for interrupting. Say, could I get you to fill out a customer statement repeating that, just for our files? The owner takes claims of abuse extremely seriously, so we have to keep precise documentation from each inquiry.” She floats the clipboard and a pen towards Octavia and rolls her eyes amiably. “Paperwork, huh?”

Octavia shrugs and takes the clipboard, spending a few minutes to run through all of the inane questions on the form. At the end she signs the line at the bottom and passes it back without a word. Just a suggestion of an impatiently raised eyebrow.

The mare mumbles to herself as she goes over Octavia’s answers. “Hmm. . . I see you have answered ‘no’ to At any time during the rescue, did the agent(s) touch you other than as plainly necessary for removing restraints or other devices you were wearing when they arrived?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“You also answered ‘no’ to Did the agent(s) demand, suggest, solicit, or initiate any sexual contact with you during the visit, whether or not it was related to the contracted rescue?”

“That one, too.”

“Indeed. Can I ask you if there were any questions on the form you found unclear or difficult to understand?”

Octavia is a bit irked now. “Do I look like an illiterate simpleton?”

“Not at all, not at all. We have to ask, though. Be a dear and initial this for me.” The last is to the assistant, who takes the form back and scrawls a few letters on it.

“Hrm. Was that all?”

“Not by far.” Suddenly the professional smile has disappeared into the assistant’s saddlebag together with the questionnaire Octavia filled out. “You see, the story my employee told was that you pressured him into having oral sex with you, and later threatened to falsely accuse him of assault unless he agreed to full intercourse.”

“Why, that’s a fascinatingly preposterous set of allegations. Do continue.”

“Long story short, it ends with him tied to a bed, and being molested by yourself and an accomplice. And there’s –”

“Hm mmh mhmmhmm hmhhm mmh mmhmmhhm mhh mhm mhm mm mhmmmmhm?” Vinyl interjects, fighting in vain to get words past the gag. “Mhm mmhm hmm mh!”

“Quiet, precious!” Of course Vinyl wants to defend herself, now that her treatment of that stallion has suddenly caught up with her. But Octavia knows her; she would just turn it into a shouting match and end up blurting out something she’ll regret. It’s a good thing she’s gagged, so Octavia can defuse the situation quietly instead.

The way to deal with rudeness is to give the rude pony plenty of rope to hang herself. “Now, whatever your name was, since it is obvious at this point you’re not going to listen when I deny your little fairy tale, why don’t we cut to the chase where you yell at me for a while and then discover you have nothing in the way of proof for it?”

Hissy Fit opens and closes her mouth and takes a deep breath. “As you wish.

“How dare you treat one of my ponies like that? Do our ads look like we’re fucking escort agency? Well, do they? I can assure you, if we were, we’d be a good lot more expensive. And our staff would be ponies who knew what they’re going into, and were okay with that. My lad, he does a simple job for a few spending bits, one of my best workers. Then he goes out here and comes home a complete wreck. Can’t sleep, can’t smile, afraid even to shake hooves with a client. Not much better after a week, studies shot to hell. And for what? Just so you –”

“Mhmh, mmhm mmh mhmmhmm mhmm mhm mhh mhmh mh mh?” Vinyl is now so agitated that she loses her balance on the coffee table and tips down onto the sofa, ending up with her tape-encased legs pointed towards the ceiling.

“Oh bloody hell.” Octavia rushes to her side. “You alright? Anything broken? Go on, ma’am, I’m still listening.”

Hissy Fit waits for Vinyl to wiggle her limbs and shake her head before she continues.

“– Just so you could have a few hours of cheap fun? It’s not as if you needed to – this place isn’t a slum; just a week’s worth of rent could have bought you a hirecolt who’d gladly agree to whatever you negotiate for. Or are you so sick and twisted that actually scarring an innocent pony for life gets you off?

“You, lady, are scum. You’re a monster, a misfit, and a festering disgrace to all ponykind. And I would love nothing better than to see your pitiable little self broken and thrown into the deepest darkest dungeon the realm possesses, to rot slowly in your own filth while you try desperately to remember what light and air and clean water was like. Unfortunately, as you pointed out, the law will not afford me that pleasure. But I will tell you –”

Vinyl makes another attempt at a tantrum, but Octavia puts a hoof to her muzzle. “Hush, precious. Let mistress handle it.” She feels good about being able to take the brunt of the verbal barrage instead of Vinyl, but even so, the strength of it has shaken her a little. She stands up to confront the other pony. “I don’t have to listen to this –”

“Had enough already? Very well. You’re hereby fired as my customer. We leave your key here, but I keep the deposit, pursuant to section 9 of our terms of service. Do not attempt to open another account. You won’t be able to get one with Leasewhip or Your Ice Only either; they’re upstart competitors but we do tell each other things, to protect ourselves from the likes of you.

“One other thing, though. That guy you raped? From this moment onwards you stay the fuck away from him. You don’t try to contact him, you don’t try to find him, and if you happen to meet him in the street you turn around and gallop the other way like the changelings are invading again. Or I will destroy you. I’ve worked the sex trade for thirty years; it’s amazing how many favors from highly placed ponies a patient mare can end up being owed. Think you can match them? Think again.”

Octavia stands there trying to work out a repartee. Hissy Fit does not wait for one and instead walks over to Vinyl.

“Miss, I’m not quite comfortable leaving you here with the monster. Would you like to be rescued before we go? It’s on the house.”

Vinyl blinks for a few seconds, then slowly shakes her head.

“So be it. Bellchaser, we’re done here.”

The assistant has not said a word during the visit. She follows her boss out, a look of pure awe on her face.

Octavia looks after the departing ponies for some time, while she attempts to work out what just happened. Then she remembers she still has Vinyl to take care of. She sits down in the sofa next to her.

“Now, precious, that was really naughty of you, making that kind of ruckus while I’m entertaining guests, you know that?” She strokes Vinyl’s cheek with one hoof while unbuckling her gag with the other. “I’m going to remove this, and then you get one chance to tell mistress what all that was about.”

“Stuff it, Tavi,” gasps Vinyl as soon as the gag is out. “Diminuendo! Ritardando! What was it? Safeword, dammit!”

Octavia is mildly surprised Vinyl even remembers there is one. She can’t recall her ever using it. “Fermata,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. Get all of this off of me. We need to talk. Like, right now.”

* * *

Hissy Fit almost knocks on the front door before she enters the apartment, in case the ponies inside need some time to get decent. But that would be ridiculous – it’s her own home, after all. She settles for making a lot of conspicuous noise with the keys and taking a generous time to set down her purse after she gets in.

She comes into the living room right as two ponies emerge from the bedroom. “I’m back,” she says, redundantly. “Everything’s well here?”

“Oh yes,” says Finey. One wouldn’t think it’s the same pony she left here in the morning; he’s practically glowing.

“Hello Hif,” says the mare, holding out a hoof. “I’m Cinna.”

“Right. Cinna.” That’s not how Hissy has known her for years, but of course she’d use a stage name in front of Finey. Hissy shakes her hoof. It’s funny how being on the job changes her demeanor – usually they hug when they meet.

She turns to Finey and gives him a scroll of paper. “I went out to that customer and got her to sign this. It’s not quite a confession, but it should give you some peace of mind. That’s your copy, by the way, and I’ll keep the original on file.”

Finey sits down to read the document, and Hissy motions for Cinna to join her at the business end of the room.

“I’m impressed,” she half-whispers. “I knew you were good, but –”

“I am.”

“By the way . . . if I just give you the bits now, would you still need to pay that pimping house?”

Cinna sighs and rolls her eyes. “For cock’s sake, Hif, it’s a member-owned booking cooperative, not a ‘pimping house’. And the rules say we pay dues on all engagements; otherwise we’d just have to raise the fees and everything goes south. Besides, I need the insurance cover.”

“Insurance? Good gracious, what did he do?”

Cinna puts a hoof to her face. “Hif, two things. One: I’m not gonna tell you and you know that. Two: Even if all he wanted was a smile and a hoofshake, I’m still using the insurance the moment I promise him he can have everything.”

“Look, Hop-, I mean, Cinna –” Hissy sits down at the desk “– pimps are pimps. Even if they claim they’re working for you and not the other way around –”

“Well, in that case I’m the pimp; I’m on the bucking board.”

“What, you?” Hissy is surprised; she didn’t think her friend would fall for the collectivist nonsense the ‘booking cooperative’ bosses spout.

“Yes, ever since last –” Cinna catches herself. “Sorry, Hif, can’t talk now. I’m with a client.”

Behind her, Finey has stood up. “This is wonderful!” he says, waving his scroll about. “Thanks!”

“It’s the least I could do.” Octavia’s declaration probably wouldn’t be worth much in a court, even with the affidavits from Hissy and Bellchaser it has attached; it is there mostly to make Finey feel safe from her threats. So Hissy made it as impressive as she can, even went to a notary and paid for a fancy seal certifying the copy. “Now, if you ever hear as much as a peep from her again, come to me immediately, okay?”

“Right.”

“Good. As of right now, then, you’re suspended until tomorrow, with pay. Go get some rest – or, well, whatever you’ll be getting.”

Finey grins towards Cinna, and she grins back.

“We’ll think of something.”