Nothing was given. I took what I wanted. What I needed. Including the mare I had right now.
I grasped her flank enjoying the soft, kneading feeling. The warmth of the flesh ran up my hand. I savor the sensation. With a slight hesitation, I ran my fingers from the flank towards the lower back. Her coat was a thin layer of fuzz and pushed against my fingers as though resisting my touch. I pushed through and felt each bump of her spine. They were indicators that she was real and alive, and they hammered like tiny drops of water on my conscious.
This guilty feeling grew until I reached the nylon collar. I would have preferred leather, but it was impossible to get in Equestria. It was part of a complete set: matching gag, leg binding, spreader bar and body restraint. My conscious didn't mean much now. Further up was her unruly orange mane which curled and tumbled down her backside. I ran my fingers like a brush through her mane. The hair parted and flowed until I hit a particularly stubborn knot. I tried to pull apart the knot, but as I began to apply pressure she stirred slightly. I pulled my hand away. I did not want to wake her now. I needed more time to prepare. So I retreated a few steps away and sat in the chair I had brought down for this purpose and stared at the trussed mare.
She would keep till I was ready.
I first saw her a week after I moved to Ponyville. I was preparing coffee in my kitchen, when I heard the clicking and clacking of a cart. Which was surprising since few ponies came through this part of town. My house was in a relatively isolated part of town owned by the royal sisters and there was nothing interesting out here. When I looked out the window, I saw an orange mare pulling a cart full of carrots. I couldn't help but stare. She was small like the rest of her species, but her ability to pull an entire loaded wagon betrayed her strength. I followed the length of her body with my eyes, hypnotized by the motion of her walking. I glanced at her flank, her cutie mark was three carrots, enjoying the full roundness of it and the amble way that it jiggled just a bit with each step. I suddenly felt guilty, and instead re-focused on her face. It was a cute face. She allowed her rich orange mane to flow freely and wildly curl around her neck and ears. It helped framed the softness of her throat and the pointed angle of her muzzle.I could hear my heart beat, like a drum inside me, as I found her emerald green eyes. Before that day, I had denied that I found ponies attractive, but I could no longer.
I didn't follow her that day, but she came through at least three times a week heading to the downtown market. I couldn't bring myself to talk to her. On my days off, I would wait for her inside my house. If she passed by, I followed her into town and watched from a distance as she sold carrots. I knew it was unhealthy, but I couldn't stop. Her beauty had enchanted me, but I was terrified of the feelings I had for her.
One day I made up my mind, placed a few bits in my wallet, walked into town, and approached her market stand. There was a small line, and I stood there feeling like a misplaced stranger. By this time, I had already lived in Ponyville for a month. While the town didn't have many humans, I wasn't the first human scientist to live here, and the majority of the residents had already stopped staring when I went out in public. That day though I felt as if everypony’s eyes were on me. Accusing me of being attracted to a pony. Of being a perverted freak. Of being different. I stood there and began to sweat. My throat became dry and I considered running, but that would only make things worse. I felt as though I was trapped.
Then it was my turn at the counter. She spoke, and it was heavenly.
“Hey there! I haven’t seen you before. My name is Golden Harvest. What can I do for you?”
Her voice was a sweet melody in my ear, melting the pressure, and reassuring my consciousness. How could I not be attracted such a lovely being with such a lovely voice? It was everyone else who was wrong. That day, I went home in a daze. In one hand, I carried a dozen carrots and the other I placed on my heart to see if I could feel it beating.
I came back to her market stand regularly, rarely saying more than a few words, and always making sure to buy from other vendors to mask my real purpose. I never let her realize whose house she passed by, and I was always sure to have an excuse ready if I was caught following her though I was never questioned.
Goaded on by her beauty, thoughts of her intruded my mind. She wouldn't leave my thoughts. She was with me at work. She appeared in my dreams. She appeared in my sexual fantasies. It was like a dam had broken and a raging river of emotions was drowning me, and it was all Golden Harvest’s fault.
It went on for many tortuous weeks before finally I overheard a rumor that she was going to leave town for a week. Something about a baking contest in another city. At this point, I was desperate. I needed this mare in my life, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to her. I knew she would reject me, if only because I was a human. I knew it would be polite rejection. One where her big round eyes stared up at me in sympathy, but inwardly she would judge me. So I came up with a plan. It was a hideous plan, but she had left me with no other choice. Slowly I gathered various supplies: a small wagon, herbs from the Everfree forest, rope, and other things from my work. I began to eavesdrop on her conversations when I was in the market. From these snippets, I was able to extrapolate when she was leaving, what route she was taken, who knew where she was going, and most importantly, that she was going alone.
The day that Golden Harvest left for her journey, I pushed over a tree on the path she was to travel on and hid in bushes along the road. The familiar click and clack of the wagon warned of her approach, and I peered through the bushes. The wagon was loaded down with supplies, but Golden Harvest smiled happily while the warm sun gleamed off her coat. She cussed when she reached the road block. That was when I snuck out of the bushes. She didn't register the needle sticking into her or the arm wrapping around her muzzle until it was too late. I had to guess her weight, but I had gotten the dosage right and the tranquilizer made from the herbs took effect within seconds. She struggled against the weight of my body, kicking at the dirt, and trying to scream through a clamped mouth, but it was a futile effort. She was mine now.
I carried the drugged mare into the brush and loaded her body into my wagon. I stared as she lay against the wooden planks. Her chest rose up and down in a slow manner. Her throat was exposed and her flanks looked inviting. She was vulnerable and I could feel the beginning of an erection. I reached down to unzip my pants. I deserve this after all those weeks of her taunting me with her sweet flesh and amble rump. She was mine and I could have her anyway I wanted.
I pulled my hands away. No, it was too soon. Everything had to be perfect.
When I returned to move her supplies, I found two earth ponies, an orange mare with a Stetson and large red stallion with a collar, examining her wagon and the road block. Unfortunately, I couldn't just slink back into the bush. They had heard my footsteps and were already turning around. I hastily composed myself.
“Fine day we’re having,” I said waving to the two.
“Yes it is,” the orange mare said, “It should stay this way for another day before the weather team brings in a summer shower.”
The red one nodded in agreement, but frowned at the mention of rain.
The orange one spoke again, “Unfortunately, we’re going to be stuck in the rain if we don’t get going. Stupid tree fell on the road. Can’t get our wagon around it.”
It was then I realize that there was another wagon further up the road. They had unhitched it when they saw the road block.
I decided to roll with it, “Well, I had the same problem. That’s why I left my wagon,” I pointed to Golden Harvest’s wagon, “here while I looked for a stick to leverage the tree out of the way, but with you two here, I won’t have to find a stick.“
I walked up to the fallen tree and wrapped my arms around it, “Would you mind helping?”
The two ponies glanced at each other before walking up to the tree. Together we pushed tree off the road.
“Well I appreciate the helping hand. You two should probably get going. I’m going to stay here and forage a bit.”
Another glance was exchanged between the two. Finally, the mare spoke, “Mister, we ain’t the prying type, but that wagon looks an awful lot like our friend’s Golden Harvest. She was supposed to come down this path today.”
I could feel a cold sweat working up. My plan hinged on the fact that nopony would know that Golden Harvest would be missing for at least a few more days. I had to convince these two of my lie.
“Oh, I don’t know about who this Golden Harvest is, but I got this wagon from a friend. It was used, but she said that it was a reliable and common design. Maybe, Golden Harvest uses the same type of wagon?”
I could tell they weren't buying it. The mare was especially giving me a suspicious look, “Oh, I don’t know mister. I think you should come with us.” They began to circle me. Both looking like they were going to pounce.
That was when a thought came into my head.
“I know what this is about!” I shouted. That made them jump back in surprise. “It’s because I’m a human isn't it? It’s bad enough that I’m in a complete foreign land away from my friends and family, and the doors are so small I keep bumping my head, but ponies keep making up these horrible rumors about humans eating fillies and stealing livestock.”
The two ponies blushed slightly.
“Ah ha! I knew it. You two been listen to all those awful rumors haven’t you?”
They nodded their heads.
“Well you should be ashamed of yourself for believing them. I’m a perfectly innocent human whose trying to get home and you two were about to harass me because of some dumb whisper you heard a month back.”
That made them hang their heads in shame.
“Well you know what? I don’t have to take this. I’m heading back into town.” I grabbed the wagon and began pulling back towards town.
“Wait-“ the mare began to shout, but the stallion stopped her.
“Perhaps it’s best if we just go,” he said.
I nodded and hurried away from them. I just used the race card on a couple of sweet, innocent ponies and I felt horrible.
When they were out of sight, I pulled the wagon into the brush. It was difficult. I brought the wagon to the mouth of a nearby cave I had found earlier and pushed the wagon in. The cave was far off the path and was well hidden by foliage. Nopony would find Golden Harvest’s wagon for days or weeks. I back tracked till I found my wagon. I knew the drug wouldn't wear off till the end of the day, but I still let out a sigh of relief when I saw Golden Harvest lying there.
The trip home was uneventful. The isolation of my house made it easy to sneak her body into the cellar basement. When I had moved in, the cellar was bare. Just a cold, dusty room with stone walls and floors, but over the past few weeks I had fixed it up. I had placed a second door at the bottom of the steps. It was a thick wooden door backed with blankets and cloth for sound proofing. Every few feet along the wall there were large metal rings. I had stuffed the rafters of the ceiling with more blankets for sound-proofing and attached additional metal rings to the ceiling joints. Around the room were various contraptions. In one corner was a bed and on the far wall was a cabinet with a pad lock on it. Inside of that cabinet was lengths of chain and rope and various other goodies. It was still cold and dusty cellar with stone walls and floors, but it had so much more potential now.
I placed her on the bed and walked over to the cabinet, unlocked it, and pulled out rope, a collar, a spreader bar, and a few carabiners. The collar was made of nylon and so were the ropes. While it was difficult to find in Equestria, nylon was stronger and less irritating then natural fibers. I had made the spreader bar in my spare time, and the carabiners I had brought from Earth. Some were rated for climbing, but most were cheap ones bought online in mass.
I started trussing her up. Her front legs were tied together. The bind started at the knee and weaved downwards. This would allow her to bend her legs slightly. Another piece of rope was turned into two connected loops. Her rear legs were fed through these and a makeshift climbing harness was created by wrapping the ends of the rope around her waist and thighs.
As I manipulated her legs, her slit opened up briefly and like that I was hard again, but I ignored the erection concentrating on finishing my task. A pulley was created by feeding another piece of rope through a metal ring on the ceiling. I connected the harness to the pulley with a carabiner then used the pulley to hoist her rear up to my hip height. Her front legs dragged along the ground. Another carabiner was used to anchor the end of the pulley to a ring on the wall. I used the spreader bar to force her rear legs apart, and finally, I placed the collar on her.
I sat back and looked over my work. The harness pressed into her coat, outline the delicate curves of her body. The binding on her front legs weaved back and forth, meeting together in a knot and separating again like a complex spider web. Despite that, it was rushed and sloppy, but it would hold her tight. Still something was missing. I was reminded when a bit of drool slipped from her mouth and landed on the ground. I walked over to the cabinet and reached in for a ball gag. I hesitated for a second then pulled out a blind-fold, too. I don’t think I could do the deed if I had to look into these emerald green eyes.
With the ball-gag and blind-fold in place, I sat back and waited. Only occasionally getting up to stretch or fondle her rump.
Many hours passed as I stared at her lovely face. Doubts began to creep in. I could let her go. She hadn’t woken up yet. She certainly hadn’t seen my face. I could drag her back to the road. Make it look like an accident. As if her cart tipped over and knocked her out. Did I really want to go through with this? Why couldn’t I have just talk to her like a normal person? Ask her out on a date? Why was I such a creep? And what would happen if I was caught? I could be locked up, or even killed for this. Questions and accusations swirled in my mind. I got up, my fingers outstretched. As if of their own accord, they began to fumble with the rope and pull at the knots. I had to let her go.
Then she stirred awake and the doubts faded away. There was no going back.
She mumbled into the gag still too disorientate to process everything.
“Shh,” I whispered, “It’s okay. Relax. This will hurt less if you do.”
I stroked her back slowly, and when I reached the tip of her rump, I started back at the base of her neck. After a few strokes, the static caused her coat hair to stand up. Still drugged, she let out small purr of pleasure. I moved my hands on to the rump and gently massaged it. It gave way to the pressure of my fingers like soft clay constantly being molded and reforming itself. Still she purred. Once I could take no more, I spread her cheeks open and licked her slit. It was pulled open slightly and parted further as my tongue splashed into its folds. I was expecting a salty flavor, but instead was met with a slightly sweet liquid. I took another lick to be sure, and that was when she started to scream. The drugs must have worn off. The scream came out muffled through the ball-gag, but she also began struggling against her restraints. Instinctualy, she kicked back with both legs. The harness made it impossible for her to get power in the kick, but the spreader bar caught me in the chest and threw me back. I landed on the concrete and let out a groan. I thought I smelt something acidic, but when I got up I didn't find any blood.
At this point, she was already twirling wildly around, constantly throwing out kicks. I timed my next move near perfectly. I jumped in, grabbed the spreader bar in one hand, and her tail in the other. I pulled them in opposite directions. The tail upwards and the bar downwards. She let out a moan of pain. I kept pulling till she stopped struggling.
“Are we done? If you keep struggling, I’ll just have to hurt you more,” I let go of her, “Now be a good girl and stay still.”
She obeyed. She hung there quietly as I went back to the cabinet. I pulled out another carabiner. I found her crying when I got back. A small trail of tears came from behind the blind fold and glisten her cheeks. I bit my lower lip in guilt as I used the carabiner to connect her front legs and the spreader bar.
“Now that that’s taken care of, why don’t we start again?” I re-positioned myself behind her again.
I pulled her legs apart, and licked her. She jerked again, but couldn't fully extend. Confident that I wouldn't be knocked over, I had my way. I started by circling the edge her lips, allowing her to squirm freely. The soft hairs of her coat tickled my tongue before they became matted with saliva. I pushed deeper probing her. Again the sweet liquid coated my tongue, making me want more. She kept struggling, but a rhythm was building. Soon, I moved in time with her squirms of protest. No matter how hard she shook, I would not be dissuaded from my prize. Finally, I pushed my tongue deep into her, as though to pierce her. I found something blocking my way and pulled back in surprise.
“Are you a virgin?” I said.
Already her coat glisten with sweat and a musky smell was filling the room. She stopped struggling and laid still.
“Well answer me!” I slapped her behind hard. If it had been bare flesh, a nasty mark would have been left behind, “Nod your head or something.”
She nodded.
Shit, I should have expected this, but the thought never occurred to me, “Oh well… If I had known, I would have been a little gentler.”
Smooth. Real smooth. Tell a mare you be gentle as your raping her. I pulled back and sat there and thought for a moment before taking then another trip to the cabinet. I might have to move it closer if this kept happening. I came back with a bottle of lube.
I placed the lube on my fingers making sure to adequately coat them. Instead of going back behind her, I stood off to the side. With one hand, I cupped her ass. The other, I grasped her collar and used it to control her.
“Look, I’m going to have you one way or another,” I explained, “but, I want you to enjoy this too.” I worked the hand on her ass towards her pussy. She shuddered under my touch, as though she knew what came next. “If you relax, and let it happen, then I won’t have to hurt you.” I slowly pressed my fingers into her drawing out the motion and allowing her to prepare. It was like pushing into a rubber mold. The lubricant helped, but she was rejecting my finger, and without my hands separating them, her cheeks clinched down. She started making a squealing noise which made me pull in close and use the collar to prevent her from squirming away.
“It’s okay. You’re doing fine,” I whispered into her ear, “Just enjoy it.”
I licked her ear. My tongue followed the very edge of her ear. It twitched in response, and I bit down on its pointed edge. I nibbled at the cartilage as my fingers dipped in and out of her. I made sure not to push up against her virginity. I wanted to show her what pleasure untainted by pain could feel like. It went on like this for a while. I moved down to her throat, laying soft kisses along it. I found her clitoris and massaged it with my thumb. She spasm when I did. The musky smell built up. I laid kiss after kiss on her throat. My fingers dipped in and out, swirled around, and sped up as her body responded. She kept trying to push me away, but it was a losing battle. Her moans began to get louder and more animalistic even through the gag. Then she tighten up in a muffle scream of pleasure, and in the midst of her orgasm, I plunge a single finger into her virginity deflowering her forever.
I pulled away. My hand was slick with juice. I was sweating and could still taste fur in my mouth which I spat out. She hung there breathing hard. Her crotch was a dripping mess, and she began to sob. I stood up. It was the sobbing which threw me over the edge. I had just pleasured her and she was crying! Ungrateful whore! I pulled off my pants and let my manhood come out. It had been hard this entire time, and at seven inches, I was just barely past the realm of modest and into the realm of respectable. I grasped her rear and in one thrust forced the entire length into her.
The lubrication and pleasure liquids had made it easier to enter, but she was still uncharted territory. She screamed in agony, and I grabbed her mane as she raised her head. I pulled back on it, using it as leverage to dominate her. With my other hand, I grasped her hips. No longer caring about her pleasure, I allowed instinct to take over. I pushed into her again and again, enjoying the carnal pleasure. As my body slapped into hers, I pulled on the mane to get more force. I wanted to make her feel pain. I wanted to make her scream forever, but her tightness brought me to a climax sooner then I wanted. I slammed into her one final time, this time using both hands to hold her hips into me. Thick waves of pleasure washed over me as I squirted my seed into her. I bow over her, leaning into the pulley rope and using it as support. Without me pulling her head back, she slumped forward in exhaustion.
I pulled out and fell away. Thick white cum diluted with blood dripped out of her. I lay on the bed panting. I had never been so aggressive before. It scared me. After a minute, I stood up and grasped her behind lifting it up. She must have thought she was going to be raped again because she weakly protested. I wanted to go again, but my body was spent. Instead, I unhooked the carabiner connecting her to the ceiling and laid her on the bed. I stared at her. Her was mane was tangle and wet. Her coat was soaked with sweat. Her cheeks were covered with tears. Her pussy lips opened and closed, pushing out fluids. Parts of her skin were beginning to chafe against the rope. In a moment of mercy, I took off the ball-gag.
She gasped for a few moments before begging, “Please, let me go..”
She must be delirious. I lay down beside her and pulled her into me. I could feel her soft shudders against my chest. I stroked her head.
“Shhh,” I said reassuringly, “You don’t have to beg. It wouldn’t help anyway.”
She began to cry softly, but I didn’t mind. I had taken what I needed.
End
Author's Note
-The fetishes that define me are no longer grotesque enough to hold my attention.
Welcome to the darker parts of my mind. "Taking Pleasure" as grotesque and twisted as it is was actually written during one of the lighter, happier periods of my life. I had originally planned on it having multiple chapters and each chapter covering one day. Unfortunately the happiness and lightness faded and writing became almost impossible. So instead the story laid unfinished. Not knowing what else to do, I have uploaded the rough draft.
If it is well-liked, I might revisit the story in the future. Otherwise, it stands only as a testimony to the power of fetishes on the psyche.
