Class Trance

The nightmare class of Ponyville high, their minds reduced to clay, await my instruction. Most of them just generally misbehaved before, nothing exceptional, only the torturous extreme of what every foal Equestria-wide does. When I said quiet or listen, they kept yelling. When I said work on your project, they got out their magazines and Walkmans. Oh, it doesn't sound like much does it? I always hear that, mainly from supply teachers I try to warn, the ones who've gone on to draw up an unofficial blacklist of schools with only one entry.

But though collectively these students ooze out a Tartarus, whose only end is the final school bell, theirs is but a problem of discipline. A shortcoming that requires only a firm hoof, or hypnotic programming, for rectification. Those whose problems run deeper, however, whose actions symptomize something greater than limp resolve, require a treatment greater than all-purpose brainwashing. Why tighten the screws if the motor spins backwards?

Rumble, Pipsqueak, Scootaloo, Diamond and Apple Bloom. Five students requiring a full tune up. Well, four students requiring a full tune up, one requiring a bloody good oiling.

I left the blinds up. Hopefully, all anyone looking in saw was a very boring class. I doubt they’ll call what happens next boring.

Closing the blinds one by one, I say to the class, ‘Whenever I, and only I, tell you to sleep, you will return to this state. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ they say.

I walk back to the front. ‘And from now on, you must finish any address to me, be it in school, out of school, on work, or just the weather, with “Ms. Cheerilee.” You will do this because referring to your teacher by title and last name shows you are respectful. It shows you know your place. It shows you are a good student. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Very good, class. See how easy it is to be good students.’ Now who first – Ah! ‘Rumble, Pipsqueak, come to the front.

They walk as if filing in for assembly.

Once here, they stand either side of me, looking straight forward into nothing. ‘Face each other.’ They obey, but even as their eyes meet I see no flicker of recognition.

Rarely do I get to really stare at my students without somepony accusing me of something. Despite their usually less than stellar attitudes, a colt with a good body is a colt with a good body – Who cares what’s going on up top?

Everypony knew Rumble would be an athlete. Top flier and sprinter in the school and, mmm, it shows. Lean, like there’s not a wasted pound on his body. Those muscles and that frame, looks firm enough to carry two stallions on his back.

His diet and workout regime must be excruciating.

And Pipsqueak, hard, sexy Pipsqueak. Only a few years ago he was packing away one too many of the Cakes’ finest. Not fat, just a never-intimidating plump. Maybe one day the teasing got to him. If you want to find him after school now, just look around the town gym. He’s there most of his free hours (when he should be studying). Anypony teasing him now makes sure to do it behind his broad, broad back.

Though I drool over their bodies, I wonder if their fights would need less attention if they exercised less. I mean, two fat ponies couldn’t do that much damage to each other, could they? (Ah, right, Neighponese sumos).

Shaking my head away from these highly irrelevant issues, I return to the case at hand.

I heard in cases of severe antipathy merely plastering over the hatred does more harm than good. The symptoms vanish but not the sickness. They must feel and express their anger at its deepest level, and from there, hopefully, pull it out by the roots.

‘In a few moments I will say awaken, which will make you wake up. You, him you’re looking at, and I will be the only ponies in the room. You don’t have to bottle anything up or censor yourself around me. In fact, my being here will help you open up more, because opening up means being honest with yourself and others. A good student is honest around their teacher. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee,’ they both say.

‘Good colts. Now, awaken.’

Glazed eyes ignite as they realise whose eyes they’ve been staring into. ‘Don’t move just yet.’ They seem ready to throw themselves at each other. ‘I want to take you both through a little exercise, one that will be very good for you. Would you like that?’

Grinding their teeth, I know they want to spit at the suggestion. ‘Work through anything when that dick’s there!?’ they must be thinking. But their newfound deference towards me soon kicks in. Their teacher suggested it, so she must have a good reason. They don’t want to be bad students.

‘Y-yeah, Ms. Cheerilee,’ says Pipsqueak then Rumble.

‘Good colts. Now, I want you to focus on how you feel, at this very moment, about the pony opposite you… Just nod from now on if you’ve done what I asked.’

They nod.

‘Focus on the feeling, focus on all the reasons you have this feeling.’

They nod.

‘Focus on the pony opposite, think about why they make you feel these feelings.’

Nodding, they stop clenching their teeth and breathe more deeply, which can only mean their hatred has surpassed heart-thumping rage and become tranquil fury.

‘Focus on all the reasons you have these feelings for the pony opposite. Now, focus on these reasons and think about why they became reasons for your feelings about the pony opposite.’

They nod slowly. To sign his aggression and willingness to fight, Rumble spreads his wings. The look of hateful obsession in Pipsqueak’s eyes tells me if he weren’t compelled to stay in place he would leap at his enemy.

‘Focusing on these feelings, these reasons, these reasons for reasons, and most of all the pony across from you, open yourself to the entire magnitude of these feelings, let them course through you… Now, without hurting each other, give in to the feelings.’

Charging at each other in mad ferocity, they’re ready to-

‘Oh my…’

Well, they’re not hurting each other.

Rumble’s lips meet Pipsqueaks, both pushing firmly against the others’. Their mouths open to let the other in as they rise to their hind legs, pressing their bodies together. Pipsqueak runs his hoof down Rumble’s coat, down and down, eliciting shivers until his hoof reaches Rumble’s cock. Rumble moans into his lover’s mouth as pleasure from the soft pumping throbs through his body. He removes his mouth from Pipsqueak’s, moving down to his neck. Whimpering as Rumble nibbles his neck, Pipsqueak presses his cock against Rumble’s to run his hoof up and down both shafts, faster and faster, forcing moans from both ponies.

Breaths coming quicker, each more obviously aroused, Rumble summons all his restraint. Shakily, he moves to whisper into Pipsqueak’s ear, moaning I can see, after every word. Pipsqueak seems to agree with whatever was said, letting go of their cocks.

Rumbles lowers himself, kissing Pipsqueaks torso as he descends, hearing his lover’s moans grow as he approaches his stallionhood. He kisses the base, then wraps his lips around the shaft, drawing upward to the sound of Pipsqueak’s pleasured gasp. Reaching the tip, he engorges it, suckling it a short while before taking the massive thing deep into his mouth.

There Rumble stops, on his knees, the cock of a Pipsqueak standing on his hind legs fully submerged in his mouth. He’s waiting for something. Slowly, Pipsqueak lowers himself, careful not wrench his cock from its lovely new home. He keeps going until he’s laying on his back, with Rumble crouching on all fours. Rumble shuffles around, never removing Pipsqueak from his mouth. The minor friction of the revolving lips drives a gasp from Pipsqueak. Rumble turns until his erect cock hangs above Pipsqueak’s now open mouth. He’s gladly accepted in.

They start sucking, Rumble up and down the whole length, Pipsqueak focusing on the tip, licking it like a lollypop, as he pumps his hoof over the exposed shaft. Moaning and groaning, they send appreciated vibrations through their lover’s cock. As one’s pleasure builds, he speeds up his sucking, building the other’s pleasure, who speeds up his sucking, a euphoric cycle.

Sucking, moaning, quickening, their mouths up and down, faster and faster, they’re reaching-

The dying down of the muffled cries tell me when it’s over.

When they remove their mouths I command, ‘Swallow.’ I can’t have them making a mess. ‘Stand up.’ They obey, defying wobbly legs, gazing at me with fuzzy eyes. ‘That was… very good. Now sleep.’ Their eyes stay open, but the spark of consciousness, even lust, vanishes. Looking at the rest of the class and seeing the number of spread wings and gently pulsing horns, however, it’s clear that not all lust vanishes. ‘When I say go, you will go to the gym and enter the storage cupboard, if it’s not open just go to a corner of the room. This encounter happened there. I was not there. When you get there you will awaken in each other’s embrace, and then you will have a calm, clear discussion about your feelings for each other. You cannot deny what you have just done. Go.’

They march out, closing the door behind them.

Dear Celestia, I really hope no games are playing in the gym today. Toilet! I should have said toilet. Darting to the door, I open it and look left and right. Gone. Well, they’re not actually going have sex there, they’ll just think they did. Yeah. Can’t trace that to me.

I lock the door behind me.

Now… eenie meenie minie – Oh, what the hay! Scootaloo.

I once thought her inability to complete homework and perennially abysmal test scores marked a lazy, or just dim, mind. But seeing the results of her woodwork class I realised that she possessed a determined and intelligent mind. Or at least determined and intelligent enough to pass a few tests. Before school, during lunch, and after school she dedicates herself to creating complex and beautiful furniture. She has the determination to do that, she has the intelligence to design. Therefore, she could put that determination and intelligence towards my classes. She doesn’t avoid work because she’s lazy or dumb, she actively chooses not to do it. Why? I don’t know. Maybe she thinks a career’s all lined up for her as a carpenter.

Well, be a carpenter for all I care, but you will leave this school with at least a passing mark on your exams.

I approach the orange tomboy. ‘Scootaloo, can you hear me?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Come with me.’

I take her to the closet at the back of the room. Opening it, I remove my special order from Rarity (a gift for my niece, I said). Setting the hanger aside, I dangle before the blank-eyed Scootaloo the pinkest, frilliest, most froufrou and downright girliest dress to ever to assault fashion.

‘Wake up, Scootaloo.’ Her eyes refocus. ‘What do you think of this dress? Give me your honest opinion.’

Disgust drips from her face. Recoiling away with a cringe, she seems a step from vomiting. ‘It’s ugly, sissy, uncool, un-Rainbow Dash thing I’ve ever seen… Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Sleep.’ Her disgust dissipates as her face slackens and her eyes unfocus. ‘Put it on.’ I don’t want her awake for this, convincing herself I’ve a good reason for asking her to do this. Oh, I’ve a brilliant reason, but it requires her to hate it.

With little difficulty she puts on the dress. Awww, it’s like a dog in a sweater, so unnatural, yet so perfect. ‘When I say wake up you will be the girly filly Scootaloo. Wake up.’

She comes to consciousness. Seeing her dress her face lights up.

‘Oh, it’s so pretty. Thank you so much, Ms. Cheerilee.’

Well, it’s a start. ‘Girlier.’

Twirling around to get a better look at her dress, her beams. She finishes with a curtsey. ‘Oh my Celestia, it’s perfect. I’ll show it to my mother, she’s always wanted me to care about my appearance. Oh, I'll show it to Button Mash as well.’

‘Girly like Rarity and Fluttershy’s daughter.’

‘Oh dear, you’ve been so kind giving me such a lovely dress.’ She giggles before looking down in shame. ‘But I don’t have anything to give you. And this would look so good with some makeup – Not to imply you should have given me makeup too. It’s just your dress is so pre-’

‘Sleep.’ Whatever she was about to say withers on her lips. ‘You will remember that girly filly you just were. Not consciously, but she will be safely hidden away at the back of your mind, ready to come out when you put this dress on. If you don’t have the dress on, you’re just normal, tomboy, Scootaloo, but when you have the dress on you are the girliest filly in Equestria. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘When you go home you will take this dress in your backpack. You will put it at the back of your closet. At the back of your mind you will know it is there, but you will not think about. If you see it you will just brush it out of mind. If someone else sees it, you will acknowledge it, then let it slip from your mind. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Scootaloo, from now on, whenever you don’t hand in homework the day it’s due, or fail a test, you will, the day after the homework is due or the day after you get the test results, you will wear that dress to school. Do you know what happens when you wear that dress?’

‘I act girly, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘No, you are girly when the dress is on. The day after you will wear the dress at school. You can have it off on the way to school or leaving school, but so long as you are in the school you will wear the dress. You will not consciously realise you are putting the dress on, but once it’s on you will be the girliest filly in Equestria. And you will be a very friendly filly, talking to everpony you can. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘And when you take off the dress and you’re back to being regular Scootaloo – And you’ve put the dress back in the closet where you won’t notice it – You will realise what you did that day. You will realise you wore an ultra-girly dress and were the girliest filly in Equestria. You will remember how everypony reacted to you. Although you won’t know why you did what you did, you will know that it was because you didn’t do your homework or you failed a test. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Good filly. Now go back to your seat, then take off that dress and put it in your backpack.’ She obeys.

Who next…? Diamond.

I’ve a very special plan for her. You see, I’ve always thought her problem arose from a father who not only fails to discipline her, but believes this failure a virtue. Oh, but I’ll see her disciplined. Not by my hoof, of course, for that would be grossly unethical, and, more importantly, illegal, and, ultra-importantly, traceable to me.

Between a teacher and a student, the discipline I envisage would breach Celestia’s law. If carried out between two consenting adults, however, it would not just be permissible, but actively catered to by some fine Canterlot establishments.

I admit, the word ‘consenting’ is up for debate. But, my fellow ponies, tell me, in the spirit of the law, who could prove me guilty.

I bring out two chairs to the front of the class. ‘Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, have a seat.’

As Diamond sits down, empty eyes betraying empty mind, I realise I could do far worse to her than what I’ve planned.

I could force her to relive her every trauma, set them on repeat until she sobs like she made Bright Future do (poor filly). I could set her to piss herself every time she opens her mouth or raises her hoof, incontinence does terrors for one’s charisma. Or – or worst of all, I could make her join a punk band. Let’s see how Filthy Rich likes that!

Calm, calm yourself, Cheerilee. I only aim to correct, not destroy.

Before correction, however, the repairer must first identify the malfunction.

‘Diamond, is “bully” an accurate description of you?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’ At least she’s not delusional.

‘Do you care that you hurt others’ feelings by bullying?’

‘No, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Tell me who you do care about?’

‘Silver Spoon, Ms. Cheerilee.’

Ah, the theoretical basis of Plan A is correct. Although Diamond convinced Snails to graffiti ‘Dike’ (sic) onto Scootaloo’s locker, she could never fully hide the loving looks and caresses she gave to Silver Spoon, nor could Silver Spoon hide the ones she gave back. Diamond may find no greater pleasure than treating wounds with a sodium chloride scouring pad, but she’s still a pony, vulnerable to love. Love is, in part, giving another pony power over your pleasure and pain.

‘How does Silver Spoon feel about your bullying?’

‘She enjoys it, Ms. Cheerilee.’ I won’t call her blind, just uninquiring.

‘Have you asked her recently?’

The question pierces as deep as her trance. For a few moments she remains silent.

‘N-no, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Diamond, how would you feel if something you’d done disappointed Silver Spoon?’

‘Ashamed, terrible, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Now, you’ve been disappointing Silver Spoon a lot recently.’ Her face, though emotionless, pales. ‘But she’s not been telling you when you disappoint her, so you keep disappointing her. What we’ve got here is-’ I lean close to her. ‘-failure to communicate.’

Walking behind my desk, I glance at Diamond, her eyes blank, yet glistening.

‘I know you don’t want to disappoint Silver Spoon, so I’m going to give her something that will let you know just how much you’ve disappointed her.’

Unlocking the bottom left drawer I remove a memento. On my second day teaching at Ponyville primary I realised a jammed drawer in my desk. I’d a key which didn't work, so in the end I resorted to copious oiling and an upper body exertion leaving me unable to write for the rest of the day.

‘What is this, Diamond?’

‘A cane,’ she says.

On that first sight I knew, from its shortness and narrowness, that it could not have been put to any innocent purpose. Any cripple of at least average height would do better hobbling.

Celestia’s court outlawed traditional forms of ‘Encouragement’ (as the cane was engraved) decades, even, before I attended primary. As such, the cane excited little in me. I’d uncovered a tool of past times, like discovering a sabre in the basement. ‘What must this feel like across the rump,’ I wondered, then was thankful I’d not the experience to answer. I locked it away in the desk as my predecessor had done, and quite rightly too.

Quite rightly too…

And yet, I carried it with me, from desk to desk, swatting it around in my idle time, harder and firmer as the class I knew became the class I know. After an afternoon of marking I’ve found few more effective catharses in recent years than setting up a chair, pacing around it and saying, ‘Well, well, well, haven’t you been a despicable buck today. Bend over that chair and take your punishment.’ Though I battered empty air, the sweat I shed carried with it my rage, annoyance and self-pity.

I believe the cane shall do much the same today.

‘Diamond, I will give this cane to Silver Spoon. When you do something that disappoints her, she will use this cane on you. If she indicates she will use the cane on you, you will submit to whatever she chooses to do – But only in private. If you are not in private, you will tell her that for both your sakes you must take your punishment in private.’

Her face registers nothing. Physical pain distresses her less than knowing how she hurts her only loved one. As such, caning seems a kind option.

‘When she uses this cane on you, she will tell you why you deserve it, and you will know you deserve it for that reason. The pain you feel is her disappointment, but it will let you know how to change yourself for her sake. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

I turn to Silver Spoon. ‘Silver Spoon, hold out your hoof.’ I place the cane in her outstretched hoof. ‘Did you hear what I told Diamond?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Then what is that cane for?’

‘For-’ Her breath catches in her throat. ‘For hitting Diamond.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ I say, ‘don’t think of it like that. It is for disciplining Diamond. Do you love Diamond?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘But how has her behaviour made you feel recently?’

‘Awful. I could stand it before, but now it feels like she’s drifting away. Like I’m realising the monster that was always there, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Now, now. No pony is a monster. Some just need… encouragement to be good. That cane will give her encouragement to be a better pony. You want this. Deep down, she wants this, too. She just needs help. Will you help her?’

‘Y-yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Good filly. Now, whenever Diamond does something you know to be wrong, you will indicate to her that you will discipline her. Once in private you will use the cane, telling her why she deserves each swat. You will confidently and firmly administer discipline, because it’s for her own good, but never enough to cause serious injury. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Good.’ I step away from the two. ‘When I say wake up you will be alone in the classroom. Silver Spoon, you have finally had enough of Diamond’s bad behaviour, you’ve brought to this room to show her the firm hoof of correction. Wake up.’

‘Why did you bring me here?’ asks Diamond. ‘That bitch kept us late enough as it is.’ Oh, I will enjoy this.

‘Diamond, do you love me?’ Silver holds herself like the matrons I’ve only read of in old books.

‘Why, of course I do,’ Diamond says. ‘Ooh, is that why you asked me here. I can’t remember the last time we bucked on the bitch’s desk.’ Oh, Celestia, I’ll need disinfectant.

Silver brandishes the cane.

Diamond steps back a little. ‘Oh, is that- ooh. Um, I’m not into that.’

‘This isn’t for pleasure, Diamond.’

‘A-are you still being kinky?’ Fear starts to show.

‘The past ten years I’ve followed you around, watching you just abuse other ponies. I only see you smile when you’re with me or when you’re making life Tartarus for somepony. Guess it makes sense, knowing my fillyfriend’s a sociopath makes my life hay as well.’

Diamond steps forward. ‘Oh, please, Silvy, you don’t mean it.’ She reaches her hoof to touch but has it swatted away by the cane.

‘You do horrible things to other ponies for the hay of it. It’s like you think they’re lesser creatures than you, things to either please you or torture. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with you.’ She sees the tears brimming in Diamond’s eyes. ‘Then I remember. I'm with you because you’re an intelligent, determined, beautiful mare. You just do terrible things.’

She flourishes the cane. ‘That’s what this is for. I know you can be a good pony. If you truly love me, you'll let me help you become your best possible self.’ She pats Diamond’s chin with it. ‘You’re a block, this is the chisel. Will you let me make you a masterpiece?’

I could cry now. Or vomit, never know until it happens.

‘What will you do?’ Diamond asks, clearly shocked she’s even considering it.

‘Only enough to let you know what you've done wrong. If you want me to help you, just put your hooves over the chair’s edge.’

Hesitantly Diamond obeys, lowering to her knees as she pushes her front hooves over the opposite edge of the chair.

Silver Spoon circles her prone fillyfriend, knowing anticipation is the best torture, next to actual torture. Brushing the cane over the exposed soles of Diamond’s hooves, she examines her face. Diamond’s stare refused to meet her lover’s. Her lips and eyes quiver, a dam requiring just another crack.

‘This,’ Silver says, raising the cane, ‘is for never asking me how I felt.’

THWACK! Diamond shrieks as the cane bashes her hooves.

THWACK! A scream, tears well, dripping from a pony too proud to commit to the cry.

‘Be a mare.’ Silver taps the raw hooves, sparking a gasp. ‘My governess used to dip my hooves in ice water and use a metal rod.’ Placing the cane under Diamond’s chin, she raises her lover’s eyes to hers. ‘And this is just the beginning.’ She walks away. ‘Bend over the chair. I want full access to your flank.’

She submits, pulling her belly over the wood seat.

‘Legs straight.’ Diamond obeys, locking her legs, her plot upturned. Lips clamped, she can’t contain a whine from the back of her throat as the cane scrapes along her flank.

‘This,’ Silver says, ‘is for abusing other ponies.’

SMACK! She keeps her teeth clenched, but a squeak batters through.

‘Like when you put lesbian porn on Scootaloo’s desk, and told everypony.’ SMACK! ‘I lent you those magazines in good faith.’ SMACK!

Though I despise her, I must commend her fortitude. A red bar on her arse that could guide Father Hearth’s Warming’s sleigh, and she can still will her tears to a mere trickle.

Silver brushes the cane’s length up and down Diamond’s flank, smirking a little at the winces she wins every time she touches the mark.

‘Remember when we saw last year’s play, the one where Berry Pinch wet herself on stage?’ The cane remains pressed against the red mark. ‘Remember who spiked her water bottle?’

SMACK! She screws her face, but can barely contain the sobs.

‘Remember when we overheard Sugar (or ‘Snips’ as you still insist on calling her) come out to Snails? Remember how everypony seemed to know the next day?’

SMACK! That forces her teeth open, spittle flying out with a scream.

Silver goes through the entire class, addressing cruelties not even I noticed. She works up from a high base. Some of these plans must have taken months to pull off. Despite myself, the extent and intricacy of her crimes impress me. I would call her an artist, a craftspony whose flourishes are hurt feelings, and a few students who have never returned.

By the end Diamond’s sobbing, heaving, with so many red bars on her flank it looks like she sat on a heater. But I must hoof it to her, she’s not once begged for mercy.

Silver rests the cane on Diamond’s flank. ‘Don’t worry. It’s almost over.’ She raises the cane.

BANG! Harder than the others, so hard even I wince.

‘That’s for treating ponies like shit.’

BANG! A long scream, not of shock, but of persisting pain. Her arse must feel like a bee-stung inferno.

‘That’s for driving away everypony we ever meet!’

BANG! Her legs faulter, like they’ll break under her at a nudge.

‘That’s! for never considering my feelings!’

Silver breathes heavily as she raises the cane for what I hope is the finale.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

‘That’s so you never forget today.’ She walks round to the front of the sobbing wreck called Diamond Tiara. I almost feel sorry for her, then I remember what she’s done, and I don’t.

‘Do you have anything to say, Diamond?’ Silver lowers herself to be level with her.

‘I'm sorry!’

‘Look me in the eye and say that.’

Momentarily Silver blanches at those red-webbed eyes pumping tears.

‘I'm a terrible pony! I hurt everypony! I hurt you!’ Her voice cracks. ‘I don’t deserve anypony! I don’t deserve you!’

‘Oh, no, no.’ Silver circles around to embrace her fillyfriend. ‘It’s not a matter of deserving. You took all that. You've show me you want to be a better pony. I’d be proud to call anyone willing to do that my fillyfriend.’

Diamond relaxes her legs and wraps her own hooves around Silver Spoon.

‘Do you really mea-’

‘Sleep!’ While I enjoy a romance, I’ve other matters to attend to. Besides I’ve seen what I wanted to see.

Looking at their faces, though, it’s extraordinary how emotions of the utmost extremes, ready to boil and froth and scream, can, with a single word, cool to tepidity. Diamond’s eyes, albeit bloodshot, hold no pain or guilt. Silver, so ready to pour love into her thoroughly emptied fillyfriend, now stares at her blankly, like the commonest thing in the world.

‘Diamond, do you have any clothing at school?’ I couldn't have her walking in public with a bright red arse. Ponies would ask questions.

‘Jeans and a shirt in my locker, Ms. Cheerilee,’ says Diamond, her voice hoarse, but even.

‘When I say go, you both will go to Diamond’s locker. She will put on the jeans and shirt. Then you will both come out of trance. The caning occurred in the classroom next door. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee,’ they say.

‘Go.’ They obey, shutting the door behind them.

Only one remaining.

Dear, sweet, pointless, cacophonous Apple Bloom.

Walking over to her, I admire her blank face – the least annoying she’s been the past few years.

In the planning stages I briefly considered rendering her mute. But that would be noticed. Only mute in my class? But even she has (some) worthwhile questions. Maybe, I thought, just order her not to interrupt me.

Hah, where’s the fun in that.

I have the little singing bass entirely pliant to my will – like hay I'll be utilitarian.

‘Can you hear me, Apple Bloom?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Do you have a coltfriend, Apple Bloom?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Are you two sexually active?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘But is there anything that he wants you to do, that you would never agree to? What?’

‘Sucking his cock, Ms. Cheerilee.’ Oh, yes, just as I hoped.

During those late stages of planning, when I started rubbing myself under the desk, I conjured the perfect deterrent. During my yard duties I’ve eavesdropped a store of curios. Most fairly innocent, if distasteful, but one day, wandering by the bike shed, I heard an unmistakeable drawl.

‘No way am I putting that dirty thing in my mouth!’

In a huff she left, not noticing me, followed by a flustered Featherweight.

That little bite rising to mind in the midst of my arousal put an idea in my head. Cruel, but oh so satisfying.

‘I want you to imagine Featherweight’s cock in front of you, big and erect. See it?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘It’s coming closer, Apple Bloom, closer to your mouth. Open your mouth, let it in.’ She obeys, grunting slightly as the ‘cock’ enters. ‘Can you taste it? Just nod.’ She nods. ‘Feel it go in and out, in and out, slowly first, but building.’

Her head moves back and forth as the phantom cock enters and recedes. ‘Focus on the feeling, commit it to memory. Taste the cock as it goes in and out, faster and faster. Can you do that?’ She nods. ‘Now, Apple Bloom, you know how in class sometimes I'm talking, then you start talking over me?’ She nods, eyes watering. ‘Breathe through your nose, filly. From now on, if I’m talking and you open your mouth to interrupt me, Featherweight’s cock will enter your mouth before you can say anything. If you keep trying to speak, it will start working harder and harder, faster and faster.’

Her head moves faster and her grunts come quicker.

‘If you keep trying to speak it gets harder and faster, until – he cums, shooting into your mouth.’

She stiffens as the load enters her.

‘You will swallow this cum, because a good student does not spit.’ She swallows. ‘If you open your mouth to try to interrupt me again, the same thing will happen. His cock will enter your mouth and he will face-buck you until he cums. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘It will not shock you, it will not be weird. This is just how things are. You will mention this to no pony. If anypony questions what you were doing when his cock was in your mouth, you will say you were working out a bad cough. Understand?’

‘Yes, Ms. Cheerilee.’

‘Very good.’

I walk to the front of the class to look over my thralls.

Wait…

Five seats empty. Rumble and Pipsqueak, two; Diamond and Silver, two. One unaccounted. Who?

I reach into a drawer, pulling out my ledger. More than I should, I take pleasure knowing that for the first time in a long time I shall be able to take the roll.

‘When I call out your name, you will say, “Present, Ms. Cheerilee.” Apple Bloom?’

‘Present, Ms. Cheerilee.’ Oh, dear Celestia. That sends shivers to my pussy.

I work through the roll until I find my answer.

‘Sweetie Belle,’ I mutter, paging back through my ledger.

Two or three weeks back I find, held by a paperclip, a doctor’s note, informing me that she is currently in hospital, but will be well in a few weeks.

Well, this is a potential spanner. She’s never been a problem student, so I don’t feel brainwashing is necessary to keep her in line. However, how am I supposed to take full advantage of my newly programmed adolescents if even one pony could grow suspicious?

I’ll hypnotise her as soon as possible.

On suspicion, though, these ones will need an explanation for where they’ve been. I may as well pour a little revision into their heads, as well as furnish them with a more acceptable version of events.