For the longest time, all Blank Slate knew was a constant haze. Sometimes it was a shroud of pure darkness, other times there were brief glimpses of colors, but throughout all of this he knew that he wasn’t dreaming. Who could dream when their way of life was being threatened? When they were at the mercy of someone they didn’t know?

If Slate was more awake, more aware, capable of cognizant thought, he would scoff at such a question. Dreams had nothing to do with one’s own personal want to have them. They were a by product of one going into a deep enough rest that they achieved REM sleep, a trick of the mind that produced illusions to occupy the mind when nothing else was stimulating it. There were those in Slate’s field of expertise that would say that dreams were a result of pony going into so deep a trace that their psyche’s touched some psychic realm called “The Astral Plane”, but that was poppycock, a foal’s tale. There was no science or proof behind any of it, and the only reason anyone believed it was because Princess Celestia had spread that bit of propaganda centuries ago. As if the beloved matriarch wouldn’t spread that tidbit of information as a scare tactic to ensure everyone kept their thoughts pure.

Little by little, Slate started to realize that he was forming actual thoughts, that the void around him was fading. He was becoming able to focus on his own inner dialog again, and dig deep into the pile of ‘truths’ he had acquired over the years. He needed to delve deeper though, use another piece of psychological knowledge to really get his brain juices flowing.

What about that old debate he had on pony child rearing? How he believed that part of the reason that ponies grew up to assume the roles they chose as their “special talents” didn’t come from some mark on their ass, but because of peer pressure brought on by one’s mother and, primarily, father. To Slate, this was always the answer as to why there seemed to be no gender roles in Equestria; that it was just as likely to see a mare in the royal guard as it was to see a stallion as a daycare organizer. There was no standard in place that dictated what jobs were appropriate males or females, and instead were dictated by what the parents wanted from their children. Ponies were usually named after what was supposed to be their destinies, urged to follow those paths by their peers, seldom straying from the fates forced on them, leading them to into a cycle of blissfully unaware ponies who never understood how they would repeat the process with their own children by doing something like naming them…

Slate’s train of thought was broken as he regained the ability to feel sensations again, and became aware of a strange feeling breaking through his previous numbness. It came first as a small pattern of something going across his flesh. Where exactly was still a mystery, but could certainly feel skin being shifted as something pressed up against him. The feeling had the same effect as rubbing one’s arm would after resting on it till the point that it became numb, and got his blood flowing to aid in his recovery.

Before long, Slate could open his eyes and see more than just a blur of colors. He could make out the room he was in, elaborately decorated in Tapestries, paintings, and other such fineries. He could make out that he was laying on a plush bed that conformed to his figure, making him sink into it slightly as its incredibly soft mattress sacrificed firmness for comfort. He could feel that his wrists bore shackles, and that those shackles were looped around a bar that was part of the headboard behind him. Most importantly, he could see that his erect cock was what was receiving the attention he felt, being caressed by the tongue of a unicorn in a maid’s outfit.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” were the first words to leave his lips, outraged by what was happening. He was being raped. He didn’t give this mare permission to suck him off, and bound as he was, he could only perceive that his opinion on the matter wasn’t required. The mare was cute, having a short cut, chocolate mane, and fur that reminded him of evergreens, the kind of girl he’d have no problem throat fucking, but that didn’t make him any happier. The fact that he didn’t have full control of the situation, that somepony was playing with his body while he was bound and helpless, tore away any enjoyment he could have taken from having a cute girl licking his dick like a popsicle in summer.

The maid, being caught in the middle of one of their long tongue strokes, stopped their head in a position that allowed Slate a clear view of the back of her throat, as well as the heavy leather collar belt buckle collar she wore around her neck. From where she was, with her tongue resting just below the stallion’s flare, pressing down on his urethra, it looked like she was about to consume the sex organ. Instead, she pulled away, and daintily go up to her hooves.

“Apologies sir,” she said in a squeaky voice, “I was just cleaning you as the mistress ordered.” The maid bent down, and picked up a bucket and a rag. “But now that you’re awake, I’ll go get her for you.”

Slate snarled at the maid, it becoming clear to him that she was enjoying his unconscious body more than she was supposed to. It was grounds for giving the bitch a good beating for the audacity of it all, if only he could get up out of the bed. Instead, all he could do was lay and watch as she left the room with a seductive tail flick that was meant to entice him, but he chose to take it as further insult.

Once the door was shut, Slate started to move, seeing how stupid his captors were. Within the first seconds he found that his legs were not shackled. It would have been nice to know that before, he could have given that mare a kick to the face. For now though, he could just use the freedom given to him to figure a way out of his current predicament.

Pulling against his chains, the stallion lifted his legs up over his torso. Turning his arms in their sockets by rotating his torso, Slate placed his hooves on the headboard behind him. The links connecting the metal bands on his wrist felt sturdy, but he was willing to bet the wooden bar didn’t have the same durability. With his body curled up, his legs placed firmly on the backboard of the bed, Slate stretched his body out and pulled back on his bindings with all his might.

Unicorns might not be physically strong by nature, a trait Slate felt they more than made up for with the magical powers they inherently had, but one could easily do things beyond the limitations of their own strength with the right muscle usage. Pushing with his legs while pulling with his arms would more than double the power he could normally exert, and with that much force involved he hoped something would give before his wrists did.

The material was tough though, making him strain hard to make it so much as creak. “What the fuck is this shit, steel?” he said aloud, knowing well that the wood was not quite that strong, but as it was it might as well have been. However, he still felt that he could find a logical method for getting out of this, being the clever and intelligent unicorn he was. Obviously, he just needed a way to weaken the wood first, then he’d be able to snap the small post like a twig.

Keeping the chain taut, Slate shifted it to the part of the piece of wood that looked the thinnest. Next, he began pulling back with his left arm, while allowing his right to ease up ever so slightly with his right. When his right hand could touch the bar, he relaxed it and let his other arm have a turn at the work. He repeated this process, alternating which arm was the dominant one, in order to grind the links of his chain against the wood, and help to weaken its integrity. The links grinded against the wood, chipping through its polished finish, eventually getting through to do the same to the fibers the coating was protecting underneath.

With vigorous pace, he did this until the wear on the wood finally made the wood give way, snapping under the combination of damage and force. Once broken, Slate could finally remove the chain’s connection to the bed, and give himself the ability to do the same. Most ponies would have never had the ingenuity to escape such a situation, no matter how simple, but as a pony who took a heavy interest in bondage, Slate had put a lot of thought into how he would escape from being bound if he should ever be forced into it himself.

Now that he was partially freed, with the chain joining his wrists still intact, he got up out of the bed. He had to find a way out of… wherever he was. Everything was still a bit fuzzy when it came to that detail. He remembered the three ponies who had abducted him, and the gryphons who had carted him off in a box of all things, but as for where he had been taken, he didn’t have a clue. The only thing he had was the name of the person responsible; Schorl Tourmaline.

If he was given enough time, he was certain he would have been able to figure out a way to escape the room, but before he could even formulate a plan, he heard a knock at the door that the maid had left through. He had little doubt of who was on the other side, since the serving girl had expressed that she was going to fetch her mistress, and started to develop plans to simply strangle the bitch with his shackles.

However, that sentiment changed slightly when the knock came again, and a voice came from behind the door saying, “Is it alright to come in?” The courtesy confused Slate, as a man in the position he was in would have been given none. “Did you manage to find the key?”

“Key?” Slate questioned, looking around to see what the voice, which he assumed belonged to this ‘Schorl’, was talking about. He found what he looking for on a nightstand next to the bed, a small silver key that laid there within sight of where he had laid. There was no way his bound hands could have reached it though, so he didn’t understand how this woman expected him to reach it with his horn…

Slate reached up and touched his horn, only to find that he no longer had that accursed ring on it. He had assumed that they wouldn’t have taken it off him, but if he had just been a little more observant he could have saved himself some time. Taking the key from the table, he quickly removed his shackles, and placed both objects down where the key had laid.

Having everything that restricted his movements removed quelled Slate’s anger ever so slightly. Not enough to make him feel any form of gratitude or sympathy towards the person who had dragged him to wherever it was he was being detained at the moment, but enough to let him rationalize the circumstances he had be thrust into. He had been brought here against his will, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was in danger. In fact, if he were in danger, odds are that he wouldn’t have been given such an easy means of escaping his bonds. So clearly, this woman wanted to talk, maybe strike a deal, and as long as he played ball, she wouldn’t have a reason to keep him.

Not having been given a reply to her first two knocks, a third one followed, along with the words “I’m coming in.”

“Come in,” Slate replied. He had been silent long enough, and this confrontation was unavoidable. All he could do was stand up tall, stay composed, and find out what this bitch wanted so he could move on with his life.

The door opened, and in walked three figures. The first one to enter the room gave him pause, legitimately stunning the stallion for the first time in a long time. “Well, don’t we have a fine specimen here?” said Slate with a smile, enjoying his pleasant surprise.

He had no doubt at this point that this mare was the “Schorl Tourmaline” he had heard about. She had a striking presence with her shimmering purple fur, and her blue mane that likewise glimmered in the light. A crystal pony was a wonderful thing to gaze upon, and this one was fairly attractive, if perhaps a little short. What really caught his interest though was the horn on her head, which was more remarkable than anything else about her. Crystal unicorn’s were rare, as in ‘completely unheard of’, and so seeing one in person was remarkable, especially to a stallion who had an interest in breeding.

If he had known of such a mare beforehand, he would have hunted her down and found a way to impregnate her with his seed, immunity to his mind-altering spell be damned. It’s not like the evening gown that she was wearing, which was of a slightly darker shade of purple that she was and allowed viewers to see all her delightful curves, didn’t scream to be to be ripped off and used as rope to tie up the cunt. For a stallion like Slate, she was practically begging to be raped, if she would even consider it that.

However, as much as he wanted to fuck the mare on the spot, the minotaur following in behind her had him having second thoughts in an instance. Being the leader of this little slave ring, Schorl had to believe she was the brains of the entire operation, and when you assume such a thing you usually had power to back that up. If not your own, then someone else’s. Minotaur were creatures that, without a doubt, possessed that kind of power, outmatching even earth ponies in raw strength. The minotaur could tear Slate in half in the blink of an eye if he felt like it, perhaps literally, and though Slate felt that the non-magical creature could be incredibly subjectable to his magic, the combination of the two meant that he was better off not trying anything he didn’t already know the results for ahead of time.

Last into the room was the maid from before, who had carried in with her a pressed and folded suit, the one he had been wearing when he was abducted. He would have had to be completely oblivious to not notice that he was naked while laying on the bed, but at the time he had bigger concerns. The maid walked over to him and presented the articles of clothing, of which he snatched out of her hands, quickly wrinkling them in his aggression.

“I’m glad to see you are awake, Mr. Slate.” The crystal unicorn started in a polite and formal tone, “I’m sure you are confused, the circumstances of your arrival here not exactly hospitable. I am willing to explain any questions you might have and provide you with… most comforts you might want to make your continued stay here pleasant, but first allow me to introduce myself. I am-”

“I know who you are, ‘Schorl Tourmaline’.” Slate interjected, putting on his pants, “One of your underlings let it slip when I was tied up.”

“But Mr. Slate,” Schorl said, snapping her fingers, the maid responding to it by bringing her mistress a chair so she could sit, “You can hardly know a pony just by their name. Look at yourself for instance. You’ve disguised yourself with so many names that no one you talk to ever has a chance to meet the real you.”

Slipping into his jacket, Slate glared at the mare. “And what about yourself? A mare like you should have been national news, and yet I you’ve managed to stay hidden and out of the public eye.”

Schorl thought a moment on Slate’s comment, but then answered him by saying “Should I really be known about more than other crystal ponies?” Crossing her legs, Schorl used the one that had laid on top to rest her elbow on, so that she could lean forward and use her hand as a chin rest. “You have to realize, my particular race of ponies has only recently came back to Equestria with the return of the Crystal Empire. While I might agree that the birth of a crystal unicorn would bring about a lot of attention, even the most momentous news eventually gets pushed so far back into the annals of history that no one bothers to remember it, and major details can become forgotten or mistaken. Ponies tend to forget that every mare, stallion, and foal from the Crystal Empire is technically over one thousand years old. In fact, what I find more amazing by comparison is the fact that a pony such as yourself can just disappear overnight.”

“What do you mean?” asked Slate, finishing up his suit by tightening his tie around his neck.

“We, and by we I mean me and my associates in the Society, have looked into your past a bit, to discover who you are and where you come from. I mean, most ponies of this age have at least heard of the esteemed psychologist Pon Locke.”

That name touched more than a few sore spots with Slate, but now properly dressed, and in no immediate harm, he kept his cool, “You did do some digging in order to have found that. Please don’t mention that name around me though. I like to distance myself from that stallion as much as possible, and have been very successful at it up until right now.”

“As you wish,” Schorl conceded, “But your pedigree makes your current way of living very confusing. Drifting from town to town, no home to call your own, resorting to invading the housings of others so you don’t have to sleep out in the cold.”

“It’s a lifestyle I chose to do, I assure you.” Slate stated sternly, “Why should I have to lift a finger when I can have others provide for me.”

Schorl smirked, “That was exactly the kind of attitude I was hoping to hear from you.”

“I bet it is,” Slate said in a blase manner, “I know you want my talents for the slavery operation you got going, and personally, it offends me that you think that I’d want to comply with you after chaining me to a bed so your pet slut could suck my dick dry.”

Schorl’s eyes widened, and then she turned her head to her maid. “... The chains were just a precautionary measure in case you panic when you awoke, as we didn’t want you to break something or attack anyone. We did not, however, give permission for Trendy here to touch your body in any other manner save for cleaning it. It seems she decided to use her own interpretation of what that meant.”

The unicorn maid gave a sheepish smile, and took a step backwards away from Schorl, only to have the minotaur come up from behind and push her back forward. “I… just assumed-”

“A servant does not assume anything,” Schorl stated, raising out of her chair, “And I believe we both know this was no accident, now do we?”

Trendy's eyes drifted to the floor, submitting to the crystal unicorn’s authority. There was little reason to deny the truth now that her mistress had rose from her seat, having already decided on what she was going to do with the girl. “Yes mistress… I overstepped my bounds.”

“Then go to the wall and take your position.” Schorl said sternly, already heading to a spot on the wall closest to Slate. The maid did as she was told, following her mistress, and placing her hands on either side of one of the tapestries decorating the room.

Once braced, the unicorn moved her legs back bit by bit, causing her to bend further forward with each new step. The more she leaned over, the more she revealed her panties and shapely rear, and the more she spread her legs to allow better access to all her parts below the waist. Soon, the maid’s upper torso was parallel to the floor, with her tail sticking up and to the side, with only her arms supporting her from falling over.

“Mr. Slate, I do apologize for the violation on your person,” Schorl said as she stepped up to the precariously positioned pony, ”And intend to make up for it in due time, but this does present me an opportunity to explain what this organization is all about.”

“It’s a pony trafficking ring, what’s to explain?” Slate asked, having read stories about such things in the past. Most of which were erotic interpretations of such scenarios, but Slate believed he was smart enough to separate the romanticized parts from the reality of such a situation.

“That is where most of our new members are mistaken.” Schorl replied, rubbing the inner thighs of her maid, causing her to terrible as Schorl built teased her body. “We are not strictly an organization that enslaves ponies for profit. I assure you, there is money changing hands between transactions, but all proceeds are used to ensure that our patrons can have the comfort and quality of service they deserve. When it comes down to it, the ‘Equestrian Trainers’ Society’ is completely non-profit.”

“Of course,” Slate said with a short roll of his eyes, “And I suppose that brick house of beef over there works for you out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Sartek is given a decent wage for his services, but he is part of what the Society offers its members. Having a minotaur, or a few dozen of them to to be precise, act as security gives lot of ponies’ the peace of mind they need to pursue their desires. To allow them to be their ‘true selves’.”

Slate watched as the crystal unicorn went from rubbing the legs of her maid, to fondling with her crotch, noting how the meeker mare’s thick vagina lips seemed to bulge out a bit from its cloth covering. As Schorl pressed an index and middle finger against the maid’s privates, Slate chose to ignore the titillating scene to pry further into the crystal unicorn’s nonsense.

“‘True self’? That sounds like some sort of cultish garbage to me.”

Schorl gave a light chuckle to the statement, “Yes, I have heard that before. From other potential members who didn’t understand what I was doing. However, with your… background, I think you might be able to understand what I’m trying to do, once explained.”

“Then explain.” Slate was starting to get fed up with Schorl’s crypticism. It was not nearly as attractive a quality as he assumed she thought it was.

“Mr. Slate, have you ever felt that ponies are not being very honest about how they feel or who they are?” Schorl’s hand creeped up to the waistband of Trendy’s panties, “That deep down inside, most are hiding something from the rest of the world, or that they are only trying to live up to societal standards that keep them from doing what they feel is pleasurable, for fear of poor public opinion?”

“Well sure,” Slate agreed, “Most ponies have some skeletons in their closest when it comes to certain urges or desires. It’s just pony nature.”

“Well the Society is a place where those ponies can explore those perverse desires without worry of reprisal. You see, it is of my opinion that most, if not all, sentient creatures fall into one of two categories, either submissive or dominant. However, while there are many ponies out there who would love to express this openly, there are systems in place that prevent them from doing so.”

“And that’s where you come in, I take it… You cater to these ‘dominant’ ponies, who just so happen to be some of the richest Equestria has to offer, and get them whoever they want to be their ‘submissive’, even if that pony has no submissive qualities at all.” It was not hard for Slate to read Schorl’s motivations, since no pony would do something as dangerous as this without benefiting from it.

“Everyone has submissive qualities,” Schorl said without hesitation, still playing with the waistband of the maid’s underwear, “And yes, for some it is harder to show them that they would be happier as a submissive, but I have yet to come across a pony who didn’t learn their place in life. Take my Trendy for instance…” Schorl suddenly pulled down on the band, revealing not only the bare flesh and fur beneath, but a few other things it was hiding.

Embedded inside the maid’s plump rump was an object of some sort, either a dildo or a plug, with the end sticking out just enough that it couldn’t be seen from behind the panties she had been wearing. Slate of course had experience with such objects, with most mares having one or two around to pleasure themselves with when they found themselves lacking a stallion to do that job for them. However, the other thing that the undergarments hid was much more surprising for the stallion, as the maid was not what ‘she’ appeared to be at first glance.

This ‘mare’, despite their feminine features, was a stallion. The small bulge in her crotch was not that of a vaginal mound, but of this pony’s dick and balls, both bound within a metal container that caged it up. The device wrapped around the private parts tightly, and looked to grant the appendage no room to stretch out. Even as he continued to look at the device, he could see that the dolled up stallion’s cockhead was trying it’s best to push against the cage so it could allow the rest of his sexual organ to be released from its equine sheath, and failing miserably.

Slate was taken aback by this. Not because of the maid being a male the whole time. He actually had a thing for guys dressing up like girls, and had experimented with crossdressing guys he put under his spell in the past. He was just completely shocked that he didn’t figure it out before the reveal. Trendy had the telltale lumps in his blouse that normally indicated breasts, now obviously some form of padding just to give him the appearance, and the collar on his neck covered up the adam’s apple that would have otherwise shot up flares about his true gender. Slate could feel his face turn red against his volition, and he hated that the facade was good enough to escape his critical eye.

Schorl either didn’t notice Slate’s embarrassment, or simply didn’t care, and just went on with her train of thought. “Trendy here, as you can see, is a stallion by birth, and for most of his life, he has acted as such. However, when he was brought to the Society for one of our slave auctions, I noticed that he was defiant, fighting every step of the way, even though he had a strong submissive nature about him.”

“H-how did you know he had a submissive nature if he was disobeying you?” Slate asked as he turned, covering his face, more wanting to keep attention away from himself than actually being curious about the colt.

“Trust me, I know these things,” Schorl placed her finger at the side of the rod sticking out of Trendy, lightly touching his anal ring. The girlish stallion’s body tensed up, his face contorting at the touch of his mistress, and begun to squirm slightly as she traced the stuffed entrance to his anus in a counterclockwise circle. “That is not the point though. The point is that I decided to take in Trendy as my own slave and show him the happiness there can be had in submission. It took some time, and effort, but eventually I stumbled across his weakness… a desire to be a mare.”

“I see... “ said Slate, knowing this psychological condition, “Transsexuality. A mental disorder where ponies identify themselves as the opposite gender.”

Schorl gave Slate a sideways glare, for the first time looking legitimately offended in what Slate had to say. “It is not a disorder,” she decided to correct, “‘Disorder’ implies there is something wrong with Trendy, but I wouldn’t have my little maid any other way.”

“T-T-Thank you mistress.” said Trendy to the crystal mare’s compliment.

“You’re welcome,” Schorl replied, “But remember, this is supposed to be a punishment.” Moving her finger off the side of Trendy’s toy, Schorl placed it on the flat part of the object’s bottom part, hitting it dead center. A circular section of it pressed inward, and a loud whirring could be heard coming from inside Trendy’s body, almost like several turning mechanisms were going off at the same time.

Whatever was going on, Trendy could no longer contain himself. His head lifted upwards until his muzzle was pointed upwards at a diagonal angle, and his irises and pupils did what they could to disappear behind his upper eyelid, making it about a third of the way into them before the orbs couldn’t roll up any further. The sensations were so strong that simply propping themselves no longer cut it, so Trendy resorted to latching onto the drapes in front of him to keep from succumbing to the involuntary bending of knee and elbow joints while he endured the feelings of intense anal pleasure.

“Getting back to our story,” Schorl said, keeping her finger on the button, “I started using this weakness of Trendy’s as a method of training, dressing him as a girl at all times and parading him about my facility until he became comfortable with his new role. The more he got acclimated to his feminine side, the more timid and obedient he became, no longer having to act out what he believed was expected of him as a male.”

“Well, congratulations,” Slate said sarcastically, “You turned one of the guys into one of the girls. What does that have to do with me?”

Removing her hand from Trendy’s backside, Schorl allowed the stallion to be at ease and slump down to the floor. “I’m am only trying to explain how my organization can be mutually beneficial for all parties. Trendy came in completely against our ways and methods, but has now come to embrace the freedom I have given him as my slave. Can you not appreciate that?”

“Do you think I give a damn about some brainwashed femboy?” Slate said bluntly, “The only thing I care about is what benefits me. Instead of trying to appeal to… whatever it is you think this story of yours would appeal to, you should have just gotten to the point where this involves me.”

Schorl brow furrowed slightly, and for a split second Slate could have sworn he saw her eyes reflect some sort of glow off of them. “I see that now…” She said with a bit of disconcern, “Perhaps you are right, this is unprofessional of me. Let’s get down to business then.”

“Finally.” Slate sat down on his bed, crossing his legs, “What do you want, and what do I get in return?”

“What I want is for you to be a member of the Society, and to follow the rules and regulations set forth for it. We don’t exactly mind that you go about turning ponies into your mind puppets, so much as how noticeable you make yourself when you do it. We can’t have ponies waking up after days at your command to find that they remember nothing of the time, or that they have a lot less money or food in their homes than they remember. It draws attention, makes ponies suspicious, and it could lead ponies to us.”

“So I play along by your rules… and…”

“And you don’t get put in a cage.” Schorl said frankly, “That… and you will be able to share in the amenities that the Society has to offer. Fine food and drink, comfortable lodging, endless entertainment, use of our facilities and items within it, and our services as slave trainers to allow you to keep slaves for more than a week’s time.”

“I don’t need any long term slaves,” Slate replied, “I don’t need attachments and I’m more of a ‘love’em and leave’em’ kind of guy.”

“Then I’m sorry to inform you that it’s mandatory that you have at least one submissive serving under you if you’re to be considered a member, since part of the Society’s objective is to have responsible members of the pony caste take care of and support those less fortunate than themselves. Don’t worry though, we already have a slave picked out for you, and one we feel you will enjoy taking care of.”

“Oh joy…” said Slate, making it clear he had no enthusiasm for this burden that was being forced upon him.

“Sorry, but we at the Society feel that a loving, obedient sub acts as a counterbalance to a dominant spirit.”

“So as long I’m an obedient pony for you, you’ll let me do as I please? What separates me from the maid?” Slate said as he pointed to the stallion trembling on his knees in euphoria.

“You won’t be wearing a collar,” Schorl said back, going silent for a few seconds to let that sink in, “But let’s put hostilities aside for the time being. I think we both need time to cool our heads a little, so I’ll give you some space and let you contemplate what I have to offer. You’ll have to stay here though as you do, since I can’t trust you enough yet to allow you to wander the halls.”

Schorl turned to her minotaur bodyguard, and knelt down to take Trendy by the collar before heading to the door. Slate watched both unicorns as they left, taking in the view of their backsides as they made their way out. How he wished he could have met the two in a more advantageous situation. His mind was just racing with ideas of how he’d violate the both of them had he have had the upper hand. The expression on his face was somewhere between a sly grin, and a goofy one, and was noticed by the minotaur who had opened the door for his employer and her pet.

“Hey.” Sartek said, looked square at the stallion, “Try to do something with Schorl, and I’ll stick you in a box and let your ass get reemed for the rest of your life.”

“Perish the thought,” Slate said, “I wouldn’t do anything to harm a working man’s paycheck.”

The minotaur snorted and exited the room, allowing the door to slowly creak closed behind him. With all other parties vacated from the room, Slate fell backwards onto the soft mattress he was sitting on.

Good work Slate. He thought to himself with a smile, You played it up nice and thick, and got the bitch steamed in the process.

Slate believed that the conversation had gone well enough. He could have been more polite, or hospitable, but it would have come off odd if he had. He had been beaten, abducted, and given an ultimatum to shape up or be shipped out. Certainly he would have to be pissed after all that, and anything else would come off as disingenuous.

So now that he had his first encounter with the bitch who brought his hedonistic life to a screeching halt, he could now begin plotting on how to bring her down. Contrary to what Schorl believed, it was her group that was going to bring too much attention to his activities, and not the other way around. After all, he had been raping ponies for years, and never had been caught until now. He was going to have to do something to deal with this issue, and maybe if he played his cards right, he’d be able to fill the crystal mare’s womb with his seed before she was sent off to tartarus for the rest of her natural life. For now though, he needed to wait until an opportunity arose.

It’s all just a matter of time, he told himself, It’s not like a mare like her can outsmart me.

“Oh, and Mr. Slate,” Schorl said, sticking her head back into the room just before the door closed on its own, “I have here some information that you might want to look over, since you’ll have some free time before I speak with you again.” The crystal mare placed two items on the floor, and then slipped out the door, a loud ‘click’ easily heard after the door closed completely.

Reluctantly, Slate arose from his bed to look at what Schorl had left him. There were two items, a large book and a small pamphlet. The book was placed on top of the folded piece of paper, clearly meant to be read first, thus Slate picked it up skimmed the pages. The book, as thick as a small encyclopedia volume, was filled with rules, regulations, and general guidelines about proper conduct, discretion, and responsibilities each member was suppose to uphold, amongst other things. Being that it was a book of ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’, it held little of Slate’s interest, so he tossed it aside.

The pamphlet, however, held much more enticing information. Inside were images of crystal clear pools, elaborately decorated dining areas with open bars that served fine wine and other forms of high class alcohol, rooms that a member could rent out that had an air of luxury to them that would rival a guest room in Canterlot Castle, and of course many submissive ponies from all around Equestria that in revealing outfit meant to entice.

What really caught his eye were not the bits of eye candy though, but a page that featured images and descriptions of areas that appeared to be rooms in the facility used as torture dungeons and rape rooms. The depictions of mares and stallions being strapped into tight, painful bondage that stretched the limits of the pony body, the variety of tools and toys they had available for use, the idea of having a place where one could let loose their inner sadist… it was all very alluring to a pony who fantasized having access to such things near consistently.

“It wouldn’t hurt to at least try out some of these things before I leave,” Slate said closing the folded paper, looking at the front of it, ready to read the whole thing front to back in order to take in every detail of what Schorl was presenting to him in a vain attempt to win him over. On the front cover was written only four words, printed in an elegant, bold font placed on a dark purple background.

‘Welcome to The Society’

Author's Note

After a long hiatus, the Equestrian Trainer's Society is open for business once more. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, and that this chapter will help spark the interest of my readers once more. I'm starting off a bit slow with this return chapter, but in time I'll work my way back into the swing of things and produce more of the extreme, kinky, fetish stuff you all love. For now, enjoy the plot, and expect a new chapter in about 2 weeks, and then every two weeks after.

Thank you all for your patience, and have a nice day.

Today's guest OC is Trendy Laws, who was graciously donated by their owner to be Schorl's cute male maid for this section of the story.