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Rainbow woke the next morning to a horribly bungled Reville, and winced as the distinct snap of a whip rang out, punctuated by a feminine yelp. Trying to shut it out, she looked about to take stock of her situation. She was bound to Thunderlane's bed, which was wider and plusher than the bunks that enlisted ponies got... at least from what she recalled. The owner in question was draped over her naked, his semi-erect cock prodding her sore genitles as he breathed. He stirred, and turned his head as he began to snore. His foul breath oozed into her nostrils. Cheap liquor and her own fluids laced the warm exhale, making bile rise in her throat.

Had she really competed with Flitter and Cloudchaser for this? She turned away as her stomach growled; she had been no food, and only a little water as Thunderlane explored the various positions that he could fuck her in. At least, unlike most nights, the surface on which she lay was warm and soft. On the other side of the room, a soft alarm clock began to beep. Thunderlane quickly stirred and rolled off of her. Quickly turning it off, he sat beside her and teased her labia with his silver tail, while he kneaded her right breast.

"Good morning, Dashie. Ready for your big day?" Every month, Cloudsdale's Blacks were gathered in the Cloudiseum to compete in a sexual obstacle course. Of course, Lightning Dust, Spitfire, and her were a primary attraction. Pegasi from across Equestria came to cast lots, wank to their predicaments, and show their own slaves what noncompliance could lead to.

Dash shuddered at the thought; while each day seemed to drag on for an eternity, there was little distinction between them. The cell she shared with Dust and Spitfire was barren aside from a few propaganda posters. They had no calendars, no clocks, marking the passing moons by tallying each exhibition on the stone wall with the foot of an iron cot, the mares' only furnishing.

Thunderlane untied her hands and sat her up, cuffing them behind her back. He hastily stepped into his yellow and blue trousers, and pulled on his dress shirt, attentively sliding the epaulettes into their loops. Buttoning it, he turned and untied her ankles, giving them a slight tickle with his fingers. Dash sat up. With the coming exhibition, she would need to save her energy, not waste it on this scumbag. She slid off of the bed, and stood, clamping her thighs together to obscure her moist sex as the black stallion attached her leash. He opened the door and frog-marched her to the the cell, where Spitfire and Lightning Dust had their muzzles in the trough of mare-food.

Thunderlane opened the cage and uncuffed her, shoving her in. “You ladies enjoy your meal,” he laughed degradingly as he slid the door shut with a clang. He leaned against the chamber’s wall and slowly began to jerk himself

Rainbow Dash crouched at the trough, and lapped at the brown gool. Even though she had become used to the taste and smell, she couldn’t stand the fact that they were forced to eat it like dogs. Yet, she did it anyway, reminding herself of the severe beating that would follow if she tried to use her hands. Silently, she looked at the two mares before her. Spitfire had bags under her eyes, and Lightning Dust bore red welts on her breasts, groin, and ass. Dash shook her head in disgust, as she realized that she had fared the best among them. She silently are her fill and put her hooves on the cot and began to do push-ups, flicking her tail tauntingly at Thunderlane, who growled and ceased his masturbation as he recognized the gesture. Soarin had, at the beginning of the exhibitions, forbade him and the other stallions from raping them when they warmed up and stretched, and they knew it. He stuffed his junk away and huffed as he walked out, trying to ignore Dash's dare. It was times like these that she relished, the small slights that she could hurl at her abusers empowered her.

Spitfire and Lightning Dust, finishing themselves, began to clean themselves and stretch. "You know that he'll only beat you later." Lighting Dust jumped, grabbing a cage bar above her, and began to pull herself up.

"He'd beat me anyway. Might as well get something out of it," Dash Chuckled, "but he can still kiss my ass." They'd had this discussion many times before, and it had become a running half-joke between the three mares. Even in their situation, they considered themselves a unit, and while they all participated in taunting their captors, they consistently reminded each other of what the consequences could be if they pushed the stallions in the wrong way.

Spitfire smiled at her subordinates' banter as she crunched her abs. She was proud that they had refused to submit to Soarin and his brutes. "Perhaps you should invite him to experiment with French kisses.

More soft laughter followed, but they otherwise remained silent as they exercised, switching positions and helping each other stretch. Before long, they heard the rattle of keys. Soarin, Thunderlane, and an embarassed Fleetfoot, bearing bonds stepped in. "Good morn'in, ladies," Soarin grinned as he strode in, "I trust you all had a pleasant night's sleep?" The Mares rose in silence as the cage door slid open, their silent resentment apparent.

"Now, now girls," Thunderlane taunted, "y'all are Wonderbolts ain't ya? What ever happened to 'Every meal a feast, every paycheck a fortune'?"

"Damn I love the EUP," sneered Soarin as he took a pair of cuffs from Fleetfoot.

"Given the cesspit it's become, I don't doubt it," grumbled Lighting Dust.

Soarin's eyes narrowed and his ears pivoted towards the rebellious mare. With a backhand and a yank of her mane, the stallion pulled her face to his. "Listen, you worthless slut," he hissed, "You have no clue how hard it is to not fuck you silly." With one hand, he cuffed her wrists and pulled her to Fleetfoot, pulling and twisting on her teats. Affixing a leash to Dust's collar and handing it to the red collared Pegasus, he swung about and nodded to Thunderlane who bound Rainbow. "It is only by the grace of Dainn and General Armor that I do not throw you to a patch of Rape Vines in the scorching sun." As

Thunderlane pulled Dash to Fleetfoot, he turned to her and twisted her wing sheath. "If it were up to me, I'd lop these useless things off of you, and beat you with them."

Soarin turned to his former wife and bound her arms and neck with a metal yoke. "Bitch, I'd switch you so hard and often that other ponies might think that you were born with a red ass!" The two stallions guffawed at the crude joke.

He led her to the other mares and gave her leash to Fleetfoot who gently began leading them to the old runway, where a helicopter was waiting; stallions had long since ceased to draw chariots for mares. It was old and rickety barely more than a motorized descendent of Pinkie's pedal powered contraption, Dash summarized. Pinkie... where was she now? Would she ever be healed? Perhaps it would be more merciful if her miserable existence were to end....

Dash shook her head slightly and refocused. How dare she even consider such a thing, she chided herself as she looked at the flying machine for a tactical advantage that. It only had one door, a non-issue since the mares were effectively flightless, and jumping would almost certainly be fatal. On top of that, there were anchors in the deck that their bindings would be fixed to.

Coaxial rotor. Armored cockpit containing a white Pegasus. Rusted landing skids. Nothing seemed to give her an edge. She glanced at the still blades and chuckled at the obvious pun. Again, she felt her mind begin to wander. Focus Dash! She knew that it was futile to consider means of escape; the caribou were expert slavers and had taught the stallions their twisted trade well.

The Pegasus mares sat on the deck, the cold metal pressing against their exposed sex. Chains were affixed to their collars, securing them to the deck. The chopper began to whine, rising to a roar as the blades whirled above them. The old bird shook violently as the RPMs increased, vibrating the deck, and arousing Dash. A unicorn guard nonchalantly climbed aboard and, as the helicopter rose, rubbed her erect nipple. Pitching forward, they accelerated past the neglected base and hurtled through a thin cloud bank. Dash felt the unicorn’s administrations become more and more violent, but she urged herself to ignore it. Rather, she pictured the Cloudiseum in her mind, and pondered the events that she would be participating in. Last month had been a crotch-bead race; moving too fast would cause her to violently orgasm and fall, while moving slowly would get her beaten. She remembered her hands being bound with barbed wire as she was rutted by tentacles in an orgasm race, the pain of having a massive dildo stuffed in her anus, and the joy of breaking the sound barrier as she dove at the Young Flyers’ Competition.

The Young Flyers’ Competition… tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her golden years, only to be whisked away by the turbulent rotorwash. She felt the guard release her cuffs from their anchor as he tried to spin her around as he unzipped his fly. She looked down below them, where white clouds looked like a billowing white carpet far below. Her eyes widened as an insane inspiration gripped her. She swung the loose chain into the arc of the whirling blades above and time slowed. With a deafening crunch, a blade sliced into the metal obstruction, demolishing it and splintering the leading edge. The machine began to wobble violently as it’s rotors’ delicate symmetry was disturbed. The unicorn that had moments ago been violating her reached for a grip and tumbled at the cabin pitched and rolled as the pilot fought for control, straight towards Rainbow Dash. The naked pegasus braced her hooves on the landing skid and caught the guard’s shirt in her powerful jaws. His legs were still aboard, but his entire torso was suspended in mid air. “Pull me up!” His scream was shrill and full of terror, but Dash stared into his eyes.

“AH CAHNT,” she hollered through clenched teeth, “MAH HANDS!” She brought her hands around so he could reach them. The guard tried to grab them as a handhold, but Dash pulled them away. “UNLOCK ‘HEM!” The Unicorn pulled a ring of keys from a chain on his neck and, with his magic, slid one into the locks binding her. As her hands were freed, she pulled him aboard and linked his wrist to the side of a jumpseat. “You have no idea,” the raging mare hissed into his ear, “how easily I could have let you go.” She made her way to Lightning Dust and Spitfire, unbinding them.

“Great!” Lightning Dust exclaimed, “Now what?!” Dash looked down at the clouds below. They were drawing nearer, as the pilot traded maintaining altitude for retaining some semblance of control.

Dash grinned, “Now, we jump!” Not waiting for a response she reached into open space with her hand and felt the downwash, the pressure of the air and the density of the gasses. She closed her eyes… and let herself get sucked out. The two mares dove after her, unsure of her intentions, but not daring to stay aboard the gyrating craft. They fell towards the clouds below, spreading their arms and legs to slow their descent, but Dash stayed in her dive. She reached into her dive and felt the pressure increase. Warmer. Thicker. Wetter. She felt the upper fringes of the cloud below and broke out of her dive. With a flash of her long-unused pegasus magic, she compressed the air that pooled against her belly and thrust it at the cloud. The naturally floating cloud grew denser, grabbing at her exposed body and slowly, unmistakingly slowed her to a halt. The two mares sank into the cloud, slowing and stopping. With a sigh, the cyan pegasus drew her first free breath in years, and allowed herself to fall asleep in the cloud’s soft embrace.