Pleasured Viscera: Whispers Beneath The Boards

Applebloom, little victim-fetishist she was, lay comfortably atop her bed. She didn't fight her fuck, but, welcomed her atop. Because sometimes, ponies were just that depraved. Lily, mid-conquest, creamed her womb tingling. It crunched ever-so-claimed, forcing endless twitching against her thick-set girth. It felt odd taking a cock with round head geometries. Like some phallus beast forcing her all-fours. She shuddered, clamping down against muffle-heavy sheets. A whining, female squeak left her pipe as Lily pumped her puckered rectum. How many minutes had it been. Surely ten. Twenty. Thirty...?

"A-aahyeaah~ I never thought you'd love it, sis~ I didn't you know you were so dirty~" Lily whispered, grinning her open-mouthed sugar.

It felt right. Fucking Applebloom was fucking her last love. Pent. Needy. Sickened by her fetishes, but loving every minute of physical shame. Shame was underrated as a tool for tension. Applebloom couldn't face her captor; everything felt shallow and raw. Her own intestines were puffing and suckling. The mare squeezed, wide-eyed and panting at Lily's resilience. How long did stallions usually last. Why was Lily still rock fucking hard.

"Lily...! S-stop-! I don't like this...!" Applebloom squeaked, bubbling harder after her fuck obliged.

"N-no... U-ugh, what the fuck..." She cursed, glancing over her shoulder.

Lily's tongue, short and thick, hung about her dulled canines. That, however, didn't make the look. The hottest thing about taking a futa was her eyes. Her gothic mascara and long, hyper-feminine lashes, or how they anchored in sheer arousal. Applebloom wasn't a slut, but, she did enjoy her half-heavy admission. Her own rapist loved her body through and through, even hilting to tease her mid-rest.

"U-uunh~! Not funny..." She whined, not mentally shattered because who the hell broke after one, pause-littered fuck.

Incubus hooves fondled her barely-legal features, each cheek drunk with anxiousness, shame and joy. Though she begged 'stop' before, Applebloom regretted her decision. All that batter, enough to trickle visibly, made her somepony else's. Not having her cock felt off. Out-of-place like it owned her.

"What's the matter, 'sugar cube'~? Don't like it in your ass~?" Lily inquired, playfully nuzzling her neck.

"It hurts... I love getting stretched, but, it hurts hard. I-I'll tell you everything. Just don't fuck me there again." She groaned, not even violated because so far, there wasn't beating, hair-pulling or abdomen stabbing. .

Really, it seemed childish and unrealistic. How could anypony be undeterred from sobbing rage. Well, ponies just weren't sensitive. Not a single nerve in their bodies bent to rape's brutal kiss. That was why, in some stroke of evolutionary genius, most if not all ponies strayed away from needless sexual gratification. They happened to bring said pleasures more on a psychological plane. Applebloom herself never had a mate, nor knew what being dominated was. She learned it's winded sugar and knew the choking need for someone strong and careless. Only, she stopped because, though it somehow overclocked her receptiveness, Lily's touch also added a dose of intimacy. Dark, uncertain intimacy.

"He's- H-he's not the one yer' lookin' for. Filthy Rich ain't the one pulling strings. Who you wanna look for is a princess. I-I dunno who it is, but, you're better off lookin'- ow, shit-! for her..." Apple bloom mumbled, straining her muscles in a haunch-based sit.

Gravity hit and though she'd a numb slit, the bed was rich with tension like springs without perfection. Everything smelled of moss and dust while tiny particles reminded her of cheap hotels in saucy stories. Though it seemed unreal, she did just enjoy a total stranger. Wasn't that most mare's dream in her lifetime. No bondage of ring and vow, but simple splendors in polyamorous relations.

Lily bought her information, but, had trouble piecing things together. Filthy Rich. Princess; possibly Cadence and Twilight but not the other princesses because they had whales to fry. 'So why do you say 'a princess' instead of somepony specific. Why not a name, Applebloom?' she thought within. Soon, it came to fruition, murmured like most other things. Lily had a habit of murmuring. Especially through shared, threeway cancer appreciation.

"Well... We don't get names in smoke and mirrors. I-I'm not sure my sis knows about it, either. She might be an admiral, but, we ain't the high elite. Just- make sure you don't talk about it. Write er' use a foreign language; somethin' to throw them off. Clackin' away at your keyboard isn't safe. The ESA'll track you down by finding the keyboard model, key sound archive and all sorts a' things." Her stocholm mumbled, low and raspy against ears in the walls.

Fleur Dis Lees, surprised by her knowledge of intelligence methods, wondered what else she hid. The agent, very clearly so from her tactical mistrust and constant skepticism, shined her knives and tools. One, moist towelette aided her quiet fear tactic. She even severed eye contact completely, somewhat bored and neutral in pondering torture.

"What makes it real, Applebloom. You might be lying. We're lambs to the slaughter if you're just tootin' your horn." Lily questioned, circling about slowly, stalking in little half-circled motions.

A soft, sigh-paired tiredness entered her victim's eyes. It looked sleepy and baser before, but, something changed there. Being fucked and doubted about loyalty wasn't fun. In fact, it was truly opposite of feeling comfortable and bubbly. Something cold entered her stomach because she realized sharing herself physically was different. Anypony could fuck her raw. Nopony could make her cry or curse; nopony but Applejack and her long-lost crusaders.

"Whaddyou mean. You just fucked my ass and I didn't even hate ya for it. That's good enough. Besides... If I were lyin', don't you think I'd be stallin'?" The mare replied, referencing the habit to stall for excuses.

"Hmm... Right. Like not conjugating. Lack of steady tones and whatnot. Did you tell me.... Did I tell you how interesting that is, Applebloom. How you know all about people and lying. Don't you think that's suspicious?"

A stone wall. A break in structure.

"Wh-what're you sayin'? I don't have a reason to lie. I hate the army and the navy- I hate all of them. Killin' ponies overseas like video game characters, come on. I know it ain't right generalizin', but, I'm not... I've seen the footage from those strike cams. It ain't hippie shit, Miss Lily. Just like I ain't lyin'."

Firm, she stood. In opposition, she furrowed her brow; that strange, insulted furrow patriots gave. Secret artillery and government spies. Citizens lie in bed to see the sea of blood spread by waters overshore to ignore the foreign violence and roar of war rushing hard to make the bed of child stars red and white with blues uncured among the light of bright nukes in the night.

War. Control. Lies.