Trixie and the Magic Hands

The gloves pulled and pushed, lifting and twisting Trixie around onto her front. Her horn and mouth were pushed back, forcing her chest up until her nipples were barely touching the mattress. The gloves twisted her arms around behind her, over her cloak, forcing her lower back down into the bed. The gloves from her knees slid down her legs, spread her hooves wide apart, and pushed them in towards the bed until her shins pressed against the frame, her backside up high in the air. With one glove pulling on her tail, there was nothing she could do to leave both her holes anything less than completely exposed.

Gloves rubbed from her hips down to her sides, then up onto her breasts, then off again, pushing her breasts together and then letting them fall apart. Her lower jaw was pulled down, forcing her mouth wide open as fingers fiddled with her tongue. Already she could feel drool welling in the curve of her lower lip, threatening to overflow. A hand began to stroke her pussy, back and forth without penetrating, as another began squeezing her butt cheeks in turn.

She wailed and sobbed, twisting what little she could in their grip, but barely able to move at all. How long did these things plan to torment her? Would she be subject to their abuses until the spell ran out? Could her body even hold out that long? Her mind churned, searching desperately for some way out of this, some ray of hope. Her best chance seemed to be for somepony to hear her cries, to come and save her. If they burst though her door right now they would have an unhindered view of her backside, but even with the prospect of such total humiliation, she would welcome a rescue. Any rescue.

But no rescue was forthcoming; Instead, the gloves were preparing a fresh degradation. As Trixie's fickle loins once again warmed to their touch, sending unwanted shivers through her body, a single finger ran down from the base of her tail, directly onto her anus. There, it began to gently probe, pushing against her closed butthole then rubbing small circles around its edge.

At this intrusion, Trixie screamed and trashed all the harder, straining her arms despite the waves of pain this produced. She had protested at tail-yanking, but anal play was a level beyond. Any stallion who had even dared suggest such a thing with her had been thrown out into the cold. Yet despite her protests, the probing continued, lubricated by the juices from her previous climax.

Two fingers once again found entry into her marehood, sliding in deep even with their first thrust. Bucking against her captors meant her nipples were rubbing against the bedsheets, turning them hard. She could feel the slow build-up of pleasure this scenario — this position — elicited form her. Increasingly, it seemed, she was losing control over her own body.

As the glove continue to slowly finger-fuck her, she rose closer to a climax, moans of arousal once again squeezed from her. The tip of a single digit pushed its way into her arsehole, twisting around and pressing new and alien pleasures upon her. A thumb pressed against her swollen clit, then began slowly rubbing, and she shuddered helplessly as a second orgasm assailed her sanity.

The hands gave her no time to adjust or recover, though, the fingers in her cunt withdrawing only to add a third of their number to the next thrust, which the butt-glove accompanied with a deeper penetration and the pressure of a second fingertip against the edge of her anus. The wedge-shape of three fingers spread her pussy wider, filling her up. With the added sensation of anal fingering she couldn't come down, but only settle into a series of mini-spasms.

The gloves held this position for some time, her mind slowly catching mental balance despite the slow, rhythmic, orgasmic waves washing through her with each thrust. Enough sanity returned that she became aware of the trickle of drool running down her chin, of the ache of her arms, of her drenched her thighs, and battered knees. Some shred of vanity remarked that her mane could only be a greasy mess by now, her cloak likely ruined with sweat, her tail equally so.

Then came a thrust where the fingers did not withdraw, but only held their place. Fingers slid around her nipples, then began pinching them. A glove slipped around her throat, alternately pressing the sides of her neck then releasing them, blood rushing to her head each time. Her tail once again became a toy for twisting and tugging, and though the fingers inside her held her position, she found herself pushing onto them, driving herself to new highs to escape the pain.

The fingers withdrew, then — two, no surely three fingers, thrust into her anus, eliciting a small even wail before they began massaging her insides. Trixie couldn't say if this was pleasure or pain, only that it was intense. The other hand began smacking the flat of her pussy, squeals of pain juddering through her. When they returned to sliding into her sex, though, it felt like something empty inside her had been filled. She eagerly licked and tried to suck on the fingers in her mouth, all dignity forgotten as the intense sensations inside her left no room for any other thought.

This time, though, her cunny had to take more than three fingers. As a forth forced its way into her, she felt knuckles pressing against her vaginal entrance. The sensation was too much, she couldn't take it, even as she desperately wanted to, but the gloves seemed intent on pushing her to, and beyond, her limits. She wailed at the violation, at the unbearable pressure on her opening, but when the glove relaxed, the pleasure of release was beyond anything she had felt before. The glove began to repeat this, pressing hard and then relaxing, over and over, Trixie unable to tell if she was enjoying it or not, but only knowing that it was driving her slowly insane.

On maybe the sixth or seventh thrust, though, something stretched just a little further, or perhaps the pressure was a little greater, and soon Trixie had almost a whole hand slowly thrusting and twisting in her overstretched vag. She felt right on the edge, now, of the hardest orgasm she had ever experienced, yet at the same time, the pain wouldn't allow her to go any further. Just as a sliver of conciousness concluded that she could take no more, it was driven away by the pressure of knuckles against her anus, a fourth finger seeking entrance to her rectum.

Coherent thought was driven from her. Each thrust made her sob. More than anything she wanted to climax, for this to be over, yet the gloves were pushing her still further, to a realm beyond any pleasure, or any pain, she had ever thought possible. She felt certain the gloves were preventing her orgasm, the pressure forcing it to simply build up further and further within her. She spasmed and twitched, floods of fluids drenching her legs and soaking the carpet. The build-up inside her was simply too much; She was certain that when it broke it would crash down on her like a tidal wave, smashing her to bits.

The gloves rode her over and over, her sobs and wails running into one endless cry as her body demanded air from her lungs that they simply didn't have. As the gloves finally pushed past the pain, as the monster orgasm finally began to peak, no part of Trixie's mind was able to take note of what was happening to the gloves. From flared wrist down to fingertips, each glove dissolved into cascading sparks, which flowed down their surface and into her skin, igniting her nerve endings wherever they touched, even as their disintegrating substance removed all pressure and all restraint from her. All Trixie knew was overwhelming sensation driven into her from every direction, inside and out.

With lungs drained of air, muscles tensed to their absolute limits, and her mind assailed by ecstasy and agony beyond belief, her reason was lost to her even before the crashing, thunderous orgasm caused Trixie Lulamoon to pass out cold.