In the Arms of Oppression - Episode 1: Crisis

"So," I mutter. "Artyom... What're we going to do with her, once we're finished?"

"Keep her," he replies inbetween sexual moans.

Twilight, within a mix of mutual pleasure and unquestionable fear of impregnation, groans through the gag whilst simultaneously sobbing.

"Keep her? Why?"

"Why do you think? Nnngh... It's not every day you come across - Haah.. - a pony..."

"We're barely surviving on our own, and now we have to look after a pony? No offense to Her Majesty, but that's a burden we can't handle."

"What did - Ah... - What did you call her?"

"...Her Majesty.." He stifles a chuckle, which I hesitantly dismiss. "She's a sovereign, you know.. The least we can do is-"

"Yeah yeah," he intercepts. "Keep guarding whilst I finish up with-" He chuckles openly. " 'Her Majesty'."

Scowling, I return my attention to the alleyway.

No passerby looks within, let alone pass. It is the middle of the night, after all. With that, I glance at the two a multitude of times. Artyom does his thing with Twilight, trusting I keep each and every onlooker he's unaware of away from the alleyway.

Artyom finishes after some five minutes. An agonising five minutes at that. Whether it was my guilty conscience in play, or the arousal playing with my psyche, I'm just glad he's stopped.

"Your turn," he says, outstretching a hand in request of the suppressed Glock in my hands.

Accept.

Refuse.