Blue Frosting

This chapter includes violent rape.

Mr. Carrot Cake built a small workshop on the back of Sugarcube corner so he could relax on his carpentry projects. But these days he was spending less workshop time woodworking and more time "woodie-working." Cup was still "not feeling up to it" a month after the birth of the twins. Every couple of days he excused himself for some quality time in the woodshop. Once the workshop door locked, he would take a couple squirts of lotion and lovingly massage it into his pony prick. He would pull long, slow strokes to thoughts of Rarity or Cherilee in some vulnerable situation, helpless to fend off his agressive sexual desires. Every fantasy he had climaxed with a rough throatfucking, forcing the mare to swallow his thick stallion semen. The feeling of domination and control that came with imagining a mare pinned underneath him, struggling to escape, left him panting for minutes after shooting his pony goo all over his workbench.

But this day Mr. Cake was actually woodworking, finishing the decorative hoofstool that he had promised to make for the twins. To finish the scrollwork he needed a special chisel from a box of woodworking tools in the cellar. He had been in the backyard recently and from the stench it was obvious something had gotten trapped in the cellar and died. He was determined to get this project finished, so he went back to the house and got a washcloth soaked in vanilla and tied it over his nose to mask the smell. He flung open the cellar door and headed down, enduring the odor of death and decay.

He took the cellar lantern off its peg, lit it, and started searching for the box of tools. As he rummaged around on the shelves, moving boxes and containers, his hoof sank into something gooey. He jerked back reflexively, pulling his hoof and a mixing bowl of something that a long time ago might have been pudding or frosting. The bowl  smashed as it hit the ground, splattering the back half of his body with the spoiled sugary mess.

"Celestia be damned!" he cursed. "How did that get there?"

He found a rag on the shelf and tried to wipe himself off, but he only succeeded on smearing it all over his hind legs. He swore a couple times more before returning to his scavenger hunt. Eventually he located the toolbox, and in it the chisel. As he picked it up and waddled toward the cellar door, he heard boxes falling over.

"Who's there?" he called out, holding the lantern high.

The flickering light revealed a terrified filly. She was backing away, trying to put a wheelbarrow between the two of them. Whoever she was, she disgustingly filthy and mangy. One ear was torn, and her coat seemed to be covered in flaking paint. In the lantern light it appeared she was dappled pink, green and yellow in a haphazard fashion. What in the name of Celestia was this?

"Hey there, don't be afraid. What's your name?"

She shook her head, casting furtive glances between the masked man in front of her and the cellar door, like she expected somebody to come crashing in at any moment. This could be one of Pinkie's tricks, she thought, so she decided to play the role of the Party Pony until she knew for sure who this masked pony is.

"It's okay, you're safe. What's your name, little filly?"

"I'm..." she hesitated. "I'm a Party Pony." Her monotone voice and glassy-eyed expression hinted at a creature that had been severely traumatized.

"No, filly, your real name."

She glanced at the cellar door. She buried her head between her trembling hooves and repeated. "I'm a party pony. I'm a party pony. I'm a party pony."

After about five minutes he gave up getting anything more out of her. For the first time he noticed the chain. On one end it was connected to a band of metal encircling her throat like some kind of cruel bondage instrument. On the other end it was securely fastened to a roof column, preventing her from escaping her fate. Huddled on the cellar floor before him, she looked like some nameless slave girl, one of a dozen this day waiting to be mercilessly raped by the king, then tossed aside like all the soiled trash before her. Weakend by days without food or water, she would be unable to resist as he forced his iron-hard cock into...

He shook his head. Where did that come from? The alcohol fumes from the vanilla must be going to his head.

The filly lifted her head and sniffed the air. Blue. The masked pony in front of her stank of blue frosting. Drawn by the addictive substance, she got up and cautiously moved toward him, watching the puzzled cellar owner intently. When she was a foot away, she lunged forward, licked his left hoof, and then backed up and crouched defensively.

"What was that all about?" he asked in surprise. "That stuff must taste nasty." Still, he extended out the hoof and motioned her forward. "If you want it, you can have some more."

She stepped up and gave it another quick lick. When there was no reprisal, she swallowed half the hoof into her mouth. Her tongue scrubbed the surface, vaccuuming every molecule of blue she could and covering it with saliva. This was a good sign, because as king he had the largest cock in all the realm, and it needed to be well-lubricated before he could pound it into her body. Even though the size of his fuck-stick and the fierceness of his sexual assault would burst any orifice he attacked, he was still royalty and demanded a smooth ride.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed and fell backward. The unbidden fantasies had engorged his penis with blood. Had Apple Bloom been more familiar with stallion pricks, would have noticed the thicker-than-usual flagpole looming over her head. But she was unable to think of anything other than scouring his legs for the spoiled frosting. He was delerious, unable to tell which erotic situation was real and which imagined. By the time she had worked her way up to his inner thigh, Mr. Cake was trembling with sexual tension. He looked around and whispered "Party Pony, I think we need a little privacy."

The King strode over to the door of the slave's cell, careful not to trip over his enormous, swollen member. Making sure it was closed securely, he prepared to penetrate his victim, whose only crime was having moist holes that could be ripped apart by his cock.

"You like to lick things? Here Party Pony, I've got something for you." Although she couldn't see his face under the cloth, Apple Bloom recognized the tone of a sexual predator about to strike. He started towards her, and she began backpedaling as fast as she could. The king's large, swollen pony cock swayed beneath him, a hateful weapon he would use to beat the worthless creature into submission.

She let out a little cry as her back bumped into the cellar wall. She frantically looked for an escape, but found none. The king advanced until he stood over her. His large, muscular form towered over the quivering creature. Against her will his heavy, musky smell ignited a tiny, unwanted flame of arousal within her.

She winced as Mr. Cake's hoof accidentally knocked against her broken leg. "Oh, is your leg hurt, little filly?" His cock gave an involuntary twitch of excitement. "I'll have to remember to be more careful with my damaged slaves," he smiled a broad, evil smile.

"You're a worthless little slave, aren't you?" he said as he stroked the top of her mangy head. He could not believe he was doing this. "I bet a slut like you loves big stallion cock, don't you?" He stroked his hoof along her lips and then gently pushed, motioning that she should open her mouth. She shook her head defiantly and refused him entrance. His cock throbbed.

This was not happening. He had stumbled upon a frightened filly chained up in his cellar. He didn't know who she was or who hid her here. He should run straight to his wife, and after he had told her he should alert the mayor. He knew that's what he should do.

But the only thing that mattered right now was jamming his fuck-stick down this helpless creature's throat. And it horrified him. And made his cock as hard as iron.

The climbed over her, his stiff penis directly in front her face. "Open!" he commanded. He leaned against the wall so his hooves were free to hold her head in place. He let the flat head of his cock muscle gently bump against her lips. She tried to twist her head, but the wall and his hooves had her pinned. He wiggled his hips from side to side, his dick smearing pony pre-cum on her muzzle.

Still resisting, he stepped on her bad leg and she screamed in pain. He took advantage of the oral opening and thrust his royal scepter into her mouth. "Don't you even think about biting down, or I'll put both hooves on that leg and you'll find out what real pain is."

He adjusted her head to the right angle and pushed his monster dick deep into her. Caught off guard, almost three-quarters of its length slid into her body before either of them realized what had happened. Never before had he experienced the ecstasy of being completely enveloped by the warm, slippery moistness of a pony throat. Twice his wife had let him put it in her mouth, but as soon as she tasted the first drop of pre-cum she made him pull out. Even when she was pregnant with the twins and his balls were the size her stomach, she still refused.

His Highness could feel her throat jerk and spasm as her gag reflex tried to expel the oral invader. This was typical of the low-quality slaves they had been bringing him lately. He slowly withdrew until just the fat cock head was lodged between her soft pony lips. He gazed into the slave's eyes and saw her grimace in pain as she fought for breath. The slave closed her eyes, vainly trying to shut out the unbelievable horror unfolding before her.

Carrot had rehearsed the domination of Rarity and Cherilee hundreds of times in his pony-prick stroking sessions. He knew just where to position them, just where to grab their manes and jerk them back so their mouths gaped open. The filly fought against him, but his grip was firm and he began fucking her mouth in earnest. In and out, in and out, he sawed. Pony drool completely lubricated his prick and dripped out the side of her mouth.

For several minutes the king had been sliding his slave's mouth back and forth along his enormous penis. Tears stained her cheeks from the pain of having her lips stretched around the fuck-pole of her master. He was concerned that at any minute the Prime Minister might poke his head into the Royal Raping Room to remind the King that matters of state required him to be elsewhere. Now pressed for time, he shifted into high gear, pistoning his meat muscle faster and more forcefully into her face. The strokes became longer; just to her lips on the outstroke, then deep into her warm wet throat.

Every cell of Mr. Cake's body cried out, begging permission to pollute her once innocent body with Royal Fuck Cream. "Oh Rarity, you worthless slave, that's it. Take my creamy cum down your throat, you slut. I'm gonna' fill your whore stomach with stallion sperm. Here it comes you sexy stuckup bitch...," he husked.

His heavy stallion ball sack contracted, and a wad of foul-tasting, sticky goo exploded into her mouth and throat. He let out a long moan and felt the filly swallow what felt like gallonsof cum into her belly. Cup's denials plus a busy schedule at the store meant he was overly full of lust and sperm. He pushed deeper into the innocent filly's throat as his piss hole vomited up its contents. Air whistled through her nose as her body fought for oxygen.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. The King/Mr. Cake felt his engorged cock shoot the last of his thick sperm straight into her throat and airways. Unprepared for his sudden onslaught of cum, the slave/Apple Bloom convulsed as it simultaneously suffocated on the great fleshy spear in her throat and the viscous semen in her lungs.

He took a step back, and his cock slid out of her mouth with a soft, wet pop. She immediately began a deep, wracking cough as her body struggled to expel globs of thick jism out of her lungs.

Mr. Carrot Cake, businesspony, husband, father and respected member of the community, began to grasp the extent of what he had just done.  He had just found a nameless, wounded, traumatized filly chained in his cellar and acted out his ultimate fantasy by giving her a brutal facefucking. What should he do? If he just set her free eventually she would tell someone of the brutal rape, regardless of what ever other horrors she had endured. He could just keep her down there, but that would be cruel. But then he had a family that needed him more than some tramp filly. Hell, the way she'd tried to seduce him she had probably blown every stallion from here to Canterlot. That's not the kind of trash that should be in a respectable place like Ponyville.

He looked at the unfortunate creature. Although she was barely able to breathe, she held a leg out in his direction, beckoning for help. Each explosive exhalation coughed up a cloud of sperm and phlegm.

"I'm sorry."

Mr. Cake trotted up the stairs and out into the daylight. He closed the cellar door behind him and made sure it was locked very tight.