The Manor in the Woods

by DSM4

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark
Length: 7195

Rarity receives a strange work order and travels to the contractor's remote home to meet him

Rarity finds herself working for a strange and reclusive contractor who lives in an isolated manor house in the midst of the Everfree forest. Things go well enough, though she can't shake the feeling that there's just something terribly off about the place, and its caretaker.

One day, she sees too much, and things go poorly very, very quickly.

Author's note: please god kill me. make my diseased brain stop having thoughts. give me a thirty-eight caliber painkiller.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-06-19 14:00:28 UTC

Prologue 1

“Hnnnn! Plf!” The mare pleaded through the muzzle as she fell from her captor's arms to land splayed out on the luxuriant bedsheets. He drew up to her and, with terrifying tenderness, stroked the underside of her jaw, down her neck, and across her upturned belly. No sooner had he withdrawn his paw than she began to whip her head from side to side, desperate to dislodge the padded silk blindfold that trapped her in suffocating darkness. A feeble kick of her forelegs grazed past the grizzled fur of his sides, eliciting an amused chuckle.

She loosed another desperate cry and struck again, aiming now for the source of the voice. This time her efforts were rewarded with a jarring impact and a grunt of pain as her hoof connected with enameled bone. He spat, and she felt a light spatter fall across her body. All was silent, save for the swish of his great padded paw as he wiped the blood from his beak. She drew her leg back to unleash another blow when with great swiftness her captor leapt forward, the bed shaking as his padded paws landed at either side of her head, tremors accompanied by the unmistakeable sound of ripping fabric. His claws were out.

He lowered his body over hers until she could feel the tips of his front feathers swish softly against her chest as it rose and fell rapidly in time with her shallow, frightened breaths. Her next kick slid past his side and the Griffon's voice rumbled quietly in the darkness.

“Stop.”

Another spasm of motion rocked the bed as she thrashed her head about, screaming. “Hlfp!” Smmphmny Hlf mmh! Plf!” Her cries fell to sobs as she felt the bed shift again slightly as he adjusted his position, looming over her splayed form. There was a moment of calm, the only sound in the room her quiet crying and the mechanical tocking of the ornate grandfather clock adorning the far side of the  room. He inhaled sharply, teasing forth another muffled sob from his prey as he lowered his head toward hers. The white mare could feel his breath washing across first her mane, then her face, and finally her neck as he quietly turned his head and laid an ear to her throat.

The unicorn's heart thudded in her chest, and each breath was shallow, quick, and labored. She swallowed, but the suffocating tightness in her throat refused to dissipate- it was as though her own fear were trying to strangle her. Cowed by the griffon's show of force she lay, blind and belly-up, as helpless as a tortoise. Apparently satisfied, her abductor rubbed his head softly across her dangerously exposed throat before lifting away and out of her limited perception.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

Tears were trickling down the side of Rarity's face in thin rivulets now, and at the sound of his voice she began another series of choking sobs. Her limbs felt like lead, and she dared not move. There was another brief pause, and then a soft swish of hair as his paw came down gingerly upon her, slowly running its digits through her amaranthine mane. He slid his padded palm across the side of her head, stopping at her ear to rub it softly between his thumb and forefinger before proceeding to trace gently across her cheek with a single finger. He cupped her jaw in his paw. “It doesn't have to be bad for you,” he offered.

She tugged away from him, and his grip grew firm.

Rarity hummed a pleasant tune to herself as she trotted happily through the streets of  Ponyville in her soft-brim cotton sun hat. A bit folksy, perhaps, but topped with a few orange and purple lilies from the flower shop across the street it made for an acceptable ensemble. In her saddlebag were a few the fruits of her shopping spree- a few reams of woven silk of the highest quality, a smattering of cut gemstones for one of her flashier projects, and a new box of needles for her sewing machine. A shame to be slaving away indoors on such a fine day, but she had a duty to perform! After all, she was the finest, and, if she might be so bold (which she was), most sought-after dressmaker in all of Equestria, with orders coming in from as far away as Canterlot, Baltimare, and Manehattan! She deftly sauntered past the carriage parked in front of her boutique, giving the two ponies standing idly in their harnesses a polite smile as she put her hoof to the door.

The door of her boutique chimed her arrival as she gently pushed it open and trotted inside, letting the soft blue glow of her horn lift the saddlebag from her side and deposit it atop the counter.  To think how her business had grown over the past several years! It was truly marvelous. So marvelous, in fact, that caught as she was in her thoughts, she failed to notice the earth pony waiting patiently in the lobby behind her until his abrupt cough sent her airborne with a rattled yelp.

“My apologies,” he murmured, stepping forward and tipping his head respectfully. He was a sizable stallion, draped in a cobalt coat and matching, but slightly darker mane, worn with a close cut. He stood with his hooves spaced at exactly shoulder length, back perfectly horizontal; the regimented posture of a guard, or an athlete. From his side hung a small, rough saddlebag. “I'm here about a work order.”

“Oh!” She brightened up immediately, eyes twinkling like sapphires, quickly quashing her immediate surprise behind the veneer of a salespony. “Which one? The Hoofington dress is almost ready, as is the one for the pageant in Baltima-” “I'm sorry," he shook his head. “Not an existing order. A new one.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head, intrigued. “What sort of order? A dress, I'm assuming? Something for the esteemed misses- oh, pardon, I didn't catch your name..?

“Not exactly,” he answered, deflecting further questions with an apologetic shake of his head that seemed to say this is strictly for business.

“Well, then, I can't help you!” Rarity, rebuffed, raised her nose with slight indignation. “As you can see, sir, this is a dressmaker's boutique! There are other tailors in town, perhaps they will be of use?”

“None as skilled as you, and certainly not as professional, something that this project will require in equal amounts.” He turned his head and unlatched the saddlebag as Rarity looked on, flummoxed.

“Well, I can't see myself helping you anyway, I'm absolutely swamped as it is-"

“Those can wait," he mumbled through a mouthful of paper, which he held forward and deposited on the counter next to Rarity. “What do you mean 'wait'? Do you even know the sort of ponies I work for these days? Models, Aristocrats-” The stallion deposited the sheets of butcher paper upon the counter. “They can wait because we're willing to let you name your price.”

This gave Rarity pause. She trotted to the counter- the stallion stepped back politely- and hmmed as the pages were swiftly borne aloft in a pleasant blue glow of unicorn magic. Her eyes ran down the front of the first page, flipped to the next, blushed, and stopped. “Is something the matter?” Inquired the earth pony cautiously.

“What? No, no, not at all,Rarity raised a foreleg, smiling embarrassedly. “I just, I didn't know that I'd be working on-”

“My employer has exotic tastes,” the stallion stated plainly, as though rote. “You are the only pony we could find with the expertise to meet the standards of comfort needed while still being … functional. Additionally, it is hoped that your professional courtesy will allow you to be, ahem, discreet.”

“I'll say,” Rarity continued to flip through the pages, blinking her eyes dumbfoundedly at one design after the other. “Somepony put a lot of effort into these. Is that-”

“Suede cuffs, yes. Much of the others are silk. A few require more exotic materials.”

“Such as?” She glanced over to the earth pony, interest piqued. “Leather, snakeskin for a few,” came his casual reply.

“Wait, actual-” he nodded. “Is that even lega-” he raised a foreleg, waddled his hoof from side to side with a slight shrug. “If you're worried we hunt down steers and take their skin, don't. Because we don't.”

She pursed her lips and gazed back at the hovering designs, brow furrowed. “Your employer would have to pay me a great deal for me to consider-”

There came a loud jingle behind her as the stallion extracted a loaded sack from his saddlebag and placed it gently on the coffee table in the  boutique's lobby. He nudged the burlap with his front hoof, tilting it over. Out spilled a veritable wave of coins, cascading over the mare's magazines and fashion catalogs. Rarity's jaw went slack. The stallion spoke.  “Ten thousand bits up front for you to visit my employer and consider his offer.”

“Visit?” Rarity backed up, raised her nose, and with an indignant hmph! went to gather some things. “How far- where is this employer of yours?”

The stallion smiled cordially. “He has a manor in the Everfree Forest.” Rarity's eyes scanned the pony's face for signs of humor. “Really.” She glanced out the window at the carriage, its attendant ponies standing idle in the street. She bit her lip, and glanced toward the sack of bits.

Prologue 2

The afternoon light shone dully through the slats of the manor's shuttered windows, casting bands of luminance across the two figures struggling in the darkness. A streak of ivory, a flash of mottled brown, periods of stillness broken by brief, frantic motion and muffled, plaintive cries.

Rarity lay on her back as, looming over her, the griffon's colossal figure cut through the darkness, a primordial thing birthed of fevered dreams. He presently cupped the underside of her head in a massive, clawed hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb before another spasm of fear nearly broke his hold. He tightened his grip as she attempted to cringe away from him, and in the tussle one of the straps on the leather muzzle binding her mouth came loose.

"HELmmph!" She cried as the griffon swiftly replaced the flexible sheath over her jaw and, as her forelegs scrabbled desperately against his sides, leaned to tug the strap back into position. The buckle clasped shut with a satisfying snap, and the creature's hand lingered only a moment longer over the muzzle to ensure its firmness before lifting up and back down to delicately adjust the blindfold over Rarity's eyes, which had come askew in the struggle. He wiped the tears from her cheek, gazing down at the quicksilver fluid glimmering in a crack of sunlight streaming through the shadows. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in a circular motion as he spoke.

"You can scream if it helps, but you're only going to give yourself a sore throat."

With that, he bent his haunches and pressed down upon her. She convulsed under him as she felt feathers drag against her chest. Further down her body, the coarse fur of a lion- his own chest- rubbed against her belly. The pressure grew, and within moments Rarity found her chest straining against his weight with each breath. She could feel his own heart beating forcefully against her own, and she was afraid.

In a sudden motion, the griffon tucked his arms around her back and rolled, flinging the surprised Rarity onto his chest, their positions reversed as he chuckled playfully at her confusion. She immediately attempted to rise and push away from him, but his arms locked behind her back and slowly dragged her whimpering form back down to his. He puffed his cheeks and exhaled, blowing the tangled purple locks from her face. His left hand remained looped over her side, pressing down against her back; his right explored the contours of her flank, tracing small circles across the gemstone relief.

The unicorn's legs kicked past his sides, and for the first time Rarity truly grasped the dimensions of her captor; straining for the bed's surface below, her hooves found no purchase. He inhaled, and her body rose- the whole of her length was perched atop his neck and chest. He nuzzled her with his beak, parting her mane and nibbling her ear, the razor edge sliding with great care across white velvet. She shuddered in quiet fear as his right hand ran back up the length of her body, settling over the back of her head and pushing her face gently, but forcefully, into the downy feathers adorning his neck. This drew out another startled yelp as her breath quickly filled the limited space, forming a pocket of trapped heat along his throat. He sighed contentedly as Rarity bucked her head with increasing desperation. He finally relented, and she popped back up with a heaving gasp, her lungs inflating as his own chest sank between breaths.

"I'm sorry," he rasped into her ear as he pushed her away from his face, along the length of his body. She became aware of something warm brushing against the exterior of her thigh, and the realization forced all the color from her face. Before, she was flushed with panic; now that feeling was quickly bleeding from her body, replaced with a cold and clammy dread. Before she could process this, his hands wrapped firmly around her shoulders and spun her, again landing her on her back, legs kicking weakly at the air above. She shrieked against the muzzle as his hand grasped her roughly by the horn and wrenched her head back until her mane brushed against the underside of his beak as he lay and stared past her at the ornate ceiling beyond. He shut his eyes and slid his free hand across her belly, lingering to trace around her navel before proceeding to the space between her thighs.

There came another spasm of motion as she fought against him, but with a quick tug of her horn all motion came to an abrupt end. She had seen what his strength could do. He angled his head forward and rubbed his beak against her wet cheek, as he slowly relaxed his grip on her horn and began to stroke it tenderly. She lay in terrified silence, eyes clenched shut beneath the blindfold.

The griffon's other hand spread its digits across her groin, the tips of his first and last fingers- razor claws cautiously retracting- poking against her trembling inner thighs. His middle fingers curled into her, inciting a gasping spasm as his thumb brushed against her sex. Her pulse quickened as he drew his fingers together and cupped her pubic mound. She batted the air with her aching legs, her hooves bouncing off the griffon's muscled wings as they closed gently around her form, cocooning her in a dense blanket of feathers.

Rarity's breath quickened with fear as the world closed in around her. She mustered her failing strength in an attempt to pull away from the griffon's grasp, only to be forced back down by the hand gripping her horn. He reticulated his fingers around the pristine ivory surface and resumed his stroking with renewed vigor, forcing the air from her lungs as she gasped and arched her back at the sudden stimuli. At the same time, a terrible warmth began to spread through her lower belly and into her thighs as with fingers coarse, but careful, he began to knead her sex between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hnnnnnnnmph," came her urgent, muffled cries. "Hnnnnnmmnnn!" The griffon's beak clacked quietly as he observed the rapid rising and falling of the mare's chest, laying his head back against the bed's sumptuous pillows and inhaling in turn, his chest rising to support her arched vertebrae. He could feel a tremor shake down his victim's spine as his persistence began to bear fruit. Her own horrified cries began anew as her abductor steadily pushed her to climax. Rarity felt her lips tingle, the world spinning under her. She was hyperventilating, the terror and arousal driving the oxygen from her blood in rapid, shallow breaths. She gasped for air in great choking sobs, even giving her captor pause as he allowed his wings to loosen their grip around her body.

She clenched her thighs around the griffon's hand, desperately squirming in an attempt to force him from inside her. His hand flattened itself against her pubis and continued unabated. He ignored her cries as Rarity's legs ceased their flailing, at once buckling under the tide of pleasure that rolled through her body from her horn to her cusp. The griffon froze in mid-breath, feeling her form tremble atop his own. He withdrew from her, his one hand releasing her horn: the other parting her thighs with a gentle nudge. He raised his hand, turning it and regarding the slick sheen that coated its surface.

His sigh was heavy, as though laden with regret. He nuzzled her ear with his beak, whispering.

"It won't hurt."

She felt his erect member pulse against her outer thigh with renewed urgency, and as he brought his hands to her sides to slide her into position, a single thought dominated her mind:

Somepony, anypony, help me, she cried into the black void beyond the blindfold. Help me...

Prologue 3

The weather began to sour the moment the carriage passed under the first gnarled boughs of oak that stood in phalanx at the forest's border. Things were different here; trees bent low under the weight of great sheets of hanging moss; fallen, split logs that teemed with disgusting vermin; thorned vines that grew in brambles both unkempt and sprawling, meshing together to form imposing banks that flanked the road as it wove through the increasingly rugged terrain.

Rarity could scarcely believe anypony could choose to live in such a place willingly, so isolated from even the rustic Ponyville. She glanced across the carriage's fine interior toward her cobalt chaperon, himself presently slouched back into his seat, eyes shuttered, forelegs crossed over his lap. Her thoughts were interrupted as a splotch of water burst against the window from which she had been viewing the forest at a safe distance. A moment later, another splashed down on the windowsill, followed by another, and another. The sky opened, and within moments the carriage was filled with a tranquil symphony as rainwater drummed against its paneled exterior and rolled down its windows first in thin branches, then in sheets, and finally in a torrential cascade. If the ponies pulling the carriage were bothered at all by the sudden downpour, they gave no indication. Though Rarity could only make out vague shapes through the skin of water sliding down the dark glass, she was certain that the trees themselves seemed to be swaying back and forth under the combined lashing of wind and rain.

A flash of white lit the sky above the treeline, and for the briefest of moments Rarity saw her own contemplative stare mirrored in the illuminated pane. She blinked and it was gone, the only evidence of its passing the dour crescendo of thunder that arrived first as a distant crackle before rapidly maturing into a deafening boom that rattled the windows and shook the hanging lantern illuminating the carriage's luxuriant interior. Rarity tapped her forehooves together- she was beginning to have some serious misgivings about her decision- but dismissed them with a single stalwart hmph! She certainly had undergone greater trials for her work in the past, and she wasn't about to let a little inclement weather throw her into hysterics.

She heard a rustle at her side, and turned to see the cobalt pony blinking at her in confusion. Rarity lifted a hoof to her mouth. "Oh dear, quite sorry, I forgot you were sleeping." He didn't care to correct her. "It's just the rain, and dreadful lightning..."

"You have questions," he intoned, eyes bored.

"Oh yes, many, about you, about your employer, about our destination," she burst, excited to finally have somepony to talk to after such a long and dreary journey.

His mouth curved into a sliver of a smile. "Ask away," he drawled before leaning back into the velvet upholstery.

Rarity's back arched as the griffon's chest rose and fell under her with each breath. Her own breathing was growing increasingly difficult, her nostrils flaring rapidly in time with each fearful gasp. Each heave brought her chest into the muscled wings clasped firmly over her pale form up to her neck, trapping her under a low ceiling of coarse flight feathers that brought her down with each attempt to rise and pull away from her captor's grasp. Her forelegs were trapped up to the hooves, which wiggled over the feathered rim into the open air with diminishing vigor as exhaustion began to take hold in the mare's thudding heart.

He shifted under her. Blind and mute under the padded silk, Rarity's only recourse was to heave her chest and moan her muffled protest, which he quietly shushed before laying his massive hands on her shoulders. The tips of his fingers met over her sternum, his thumbs over the back of her neck. She stifled a sob as his fingers rolled in short, controlled arcs over her collar bones, while his thumbs likewise massaged across the back of her shoulders and the nape of her neck. He spread his fingers across her ivory fur and felt out the contours of her upper body, tracing her musculature as she lay spread beneath his wings.

His left hand lifted away and came down softly upon her hoof, squeezing it gently. "It's okay," he murmured, his wings clutching her closer to his chest. Rarity shook her head and struggled to pull her hoof from his grasp, but he was insistent, and she lacked the leverage or strength to deny him. He held her hoof in silence for a time longer. "I'll be done soon."

A muffled cry rang out as Rarity bucked her head back in sudden, frantic abandon. She could feel the Griffon twist under her as he released her hoof to fend off the horn flailing inches from his face. His wings constricted tightly around her, cutting off her breath only to drive her to greater depths of frenzy. Once or twice he managed to brush his fingers around its ivory surface, but each time Rarity swung her head back the other way and slipped from his grasp. He swung his other hand from her shoulder to her neck, suddenly stopping himself moments before making contact. At that instant, Rarity threw her head back and felt her horn scrape against a hard surface before burying itself with a thock into something far softer. The griffon shuddered beneath her, inhaling sharply.

There was a moment of stillness before he twitched and wrapped his fingers around her horn, the tip of which had gouged a shallow line along the underside of his beak and pierced the flesh below his cheek. With a grunt, he leaned his head back and off the mare's horn, swallowing heavily before cautiously angling her head away from his. His wings relaxed, and oxygen flooded her burning lungs in massive gulps. There was stillness.

She twisted in sudden terror at what he might do to her, but was unable to make headway pinned as she was between his wings and chest. Her legs flexed but, weakened as she was, buckled against the taut muscles that curled like iron against her body. The creature was silent as he returned his one hand to her shoulder, the other slowly relaxing its vice-like grip on her horn. She felt his grasp lift her up slightly and then turn her slowly onto her belly before letting her drop back onto him.

Rarity came down among the feathers with muted thump, the wet patch between her thighs brushing up against his erect penis. She reared up with a whimper- this time, his wings relented and allowed her to rise to her knees before clasping over her back. He tilted his head forward and brushed the tip of his beak against her nose, an island of white poking out between the dark material that swaddled the upper and lower portions of her face. He cupped her jaw firmly in his hand- she strained, but it was pointless, so secure was his hold- and released her horn. She heard a lapping noise, and moments later felt his hand return, wet, as he wiped the blood from her horn's ivory tip. As he finished, he again licked his fingers and ran them through the mare's mane, slicking down the bits that had become disheveled in the struggle.

He withdrew and clacked his beak- pinching the tip of her dainty nose briefly. A surprised yelp pierced the air as he curled his body up beneath her and braced his upper back against the headboard. She was tilted back by the sudden change of position, but his wings clutched her close to his chest just as she was about to fall away from him. Her flailing forelegs were pushed over his shoulders; her head past his neck. He exhaled softly and buried his head in her flowing mane. His hands slid down her body and closed around her soft flanks. She drew breath.

Her captor slowly curled his fingers around her thighs and gingerly pulled, spreading her legs apart. He slowly lowered her onto his member, pausing for the screams of terror that never came. She slumped in his grip, utterly exhausted by the struggle, her forelegs barely even twitching in their attempt to shove away from him. His hands gently caressed her thighs, parting her lips and easing her down onto the head of his shaft. Even in her resigned state, the unicorn couldn't help but gasp as the griffon rolled his hips and loosened his hold on her haunches, allowing her weight carry her opal flank down his length in one slow, enormous stroke.

"Hnnnnfhhhnnh!" Rarity trembled in fear and anticipation as she felt herself take him in, eased somewhat by the wetness that he had forced from deep within her with his probing fingers. She clenched her legs together as tightly as she could, reduced to muffled whinnies of protest as she struggled to contain him, to slow his unwanted advance into her fragile body. The increased pressure on his body drew a rumble of pleasure from the creature's throat, and he relaxed his grip almost entirely. For a brief moment Rarity's eyes widened in shock as she perched unsteadily atop him; then, with a horrific realization, she fell, engulfing him entirely.

Prologue 4

Stars exploded in the darkness before Rarity's eyes as her captor's loose grip guided her quickly down his length, filling her and bottoming out in one sudden motion. A familiar warmth bloomed in her belly, so recently stimulated that it immediately reigniting as she took him in. She seized up, her lungs halting in mid-breath, spine arching against the interlocking feathered wings that met in the small of her back, holding the two writhing forms together. Her forelegs trembled over his shoulders as time unfroze and her chest heaved to relieve the sudden burning in her lungs.

The unicorn's head lolled back, a muffled cry giving way to a moan as he gave her no time to recover, immediately re-asserting a firm grip over her hindquarters and slowly drawing her, taut as a bowstring, back up his slick length. Hefting her by her haunches, he rubbed his beak against her chest, inhaling through his nares. She smelt of fear, sex, and lavender perfume. He brought his forehead to hers and felt her breath, hot and rapid as it poured from her delicate nose and washed across his face.

He brought her flanks back down, savoring the exquisite squeal she released as her nub rubbed delicately up and down his erect form. He felt her hind legs twitch with his most recent stroke, and, sharing with her a mutual gasp, his hands reacted instinctively to spread them further apart to painlessly accommodate his bulk. The pearl unicorn was unbelievably tight around him as he thrust, her thin frame fitting around him like a glove just a size too small.

Rarity, for her part, was beyond reason. The first thrust had sent her mind reeling; the second and third only compounding the blankness that had settled over her mind as the strokes came with increasing rapidity and growing force. Her head bobbed forward and back with each stroke as her exhaustion eroded her to limpness in the hands of her captor. He was working into a rhythm now, slowing when her cries were sharp and tinged with discomfort, starting up again and maintaining his rate until the cries came out as soft, muffled moans. He brought her up again, her wet hindquarters trembling in anticipation-

At the crest of his stroke, his wings tightened around the small of her back and drew her chest again to his. His beak slid across her silk-padded face and poked through her mane, nibbling at her hair before drawing down to the silk straps that trapped her in mute darkness. His beak closed around the dark ribbons securing the blindfold and with a rough tug they came undone, letting the blindfold drop away from Rarity's face.

The sun had set now, and the bedroom was lit solely by the wan light of the rising moon as its sickly beams dispersed through the shuttered window. Even in this blackness, reddened as they were by fear and stress, her eyes glittered, a pair iridescent sapphires, ice hewn from the heart of an ancient glacier. They froze his heart, blinking tearfully up at his gaze with eyelashes seemingly spun of delicate glass. Her tears had blurred her makeup into long streaks, but he didn't even notice.

Without a word, the griffon angled his beak and tugged at the straps gagging her with silk and leather. With a final snap of his razor beak, the last buckle came undone and he nudged aside the muzzle, revealing her delicate mouth which drew fearfully away from him as he nuzzled her softly. "P-please, I'll do anyhmph!" With that, he opened his beak wide and  locked his mouth over hers, his wings folding over the nape of her neck. Her forelegs gripped his shoulders weakly as she at first tried to twist away from him, but her struggle came to an abrupt end as he mumbled, his mouth still gripped over her own. "You'll get cut." He pressed his beak against her mouth with renewed vigor, a razor edge that could rend flesh from bone crawling across her lips with tender care. His tongue flitted across her trembling lips, but finding no purchase with her own, withdrew swiftly.

He loosened his grasp, allowing her mouth to fall away from his. A thin gossamer strand of saliva briefly bowed in the open air between their two mouths for the briefest of moments before breaking, falling- as he squeezed her flanks and guided her back down upon his member. The two shared another gasp of pleasure, her unmuffled sob joining his rumble in the darkness. She was too tired to scream now. Her mouth hung open, panting as she wrestled to clear the fog of arousal and fear from her thoughts. Her eyes were distant, glittering like faraway stars, wincing with each stroke that brought her up and down his length.

He increased the tempo now, bringing his hand fully around her hips and bringing them gently, but forcefully to his own. The mare's mane bobbed back and forth with each swing; hiding her face as he buried himself inside her, bobbing back over her shoulders as he lifted her up to repeat the thrust. He pushed up while pulling her down, her body quivering around his. He could feel her around him, the beating of her heart within her breast, the halting, ragged cycle of inhalation and exhalation. He felt the walls of her passage clench ever tighter against him as he again limited himself to slow, massive thrusts that rubbed past her sex and bottomed out inside her belly. She was burning up, sweat trickling down her face, her chest. He leaned into her, flitting the tip of his tongue from his beak and licking her body as he brought her back down upon him in a great, wrenching thrust that teased forth a stifled cry of pleasure from his victim. He felt her walls undulate around him as a building orgasm rose from her thighs and broke like a cresting wave across her belly, She cried out, a staccato crack that was followed by halting silence as she struggled to force herself to breathe in spite of the lightning that crackled through her veins, up her vertebrae. Her captor grunted as she clutched her hooves to his shoulders, clenched her belly, and strained to bring her thighs together, increasing the resistance against his member. He dove into her with full force.

He gasped, bringing her down upon him with as much force as he was willing to. He had worked up a good rhythm, but there was no need to maintain it any longer. His beak fell open and brushed against the mare's shocked, expressionless face, his own breath hot, his feathers slick with perspiration. He brought her back down with one final stroke, feeling her insides push against his- and the tide broke. He rumbled beneath her, loosing more a shrill, fierce cry of a bird of prey than a moan of pleasure. Rarity shuddered and fell limp at the sound, her mind desperately racing through the possibilities of what her captor might do with her once her usefulness as a tool of pleasure had run its course. He twitched and spurted within her, jamming his eyes shut and clutching her tightly to his chest with his wings. The two panted heavily past one another as the heat began to dim.

Rarity felt her attacker squeeze her flanks one last time before flattening his hands against her coat and sliding them up to the small of her back, one knuckle pressing down upon her spine as he massaged his way to her shoulders. The griffon relaxed under her, pushing his head against the headboard, allowing his body and hers to slide gently back into missionary atop the bed. There came a soft swish of velvet as his head rolled back into the disorganized bedlam of pillows where he lay in silence.

Rarity fought to control the nausea that crept up her throat as she felt his seed within her, stifling another sob as he withdrew from her with a soft schlick. It took her several minutes to recover enough to try to speak. "Please," she choked through quivering lips. "J-just let me g-"

She cried out in terror as he wrapped his arms around her pale, trembling form, hugging her close to his body as a strange fit overtook him. The griffon screwed his eyes shut, face contorting as though in great pain. His body shook under hers, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts. His arms slowly pulled away from Rarity's back as he held them aloft, clawed hands shaking, clutching themselves into fists overhead with white-knuckled intensity. She could only lie atop him, paralyzed with fear as his chest quaked against hers in alternating bouts of quiet agony.

Within moments, it was over. His hands descended around her shoulders with a grip that was as steady as stone, pulling her forward until his face met hers. He rubbed the tears from her cheek with length of his bill before wordlessly clutching her to his neck, arms interlocking over her back as he buried his beak in her mane. A shuddered breath broke the silence as he turned his cheek against the back of her head, the tension slowly bleeding from his body. Rarity felt something wet roll past her ear and down the underside of her jaw before vanishing into the tangle of the griffon's snowy down.

The room descended into quiet, and soon the nocturnal symphony became audible alongside the griffon's metronome breathing and the unicorn's stifled sobs. A hushed susurrus of humming nighttime insects and baritone frog's calls filtered through the shuttered window, now casting bars of pale moonlight across the floor perpendicular its frame.

Minutes felt like hours as calm descended over the room. Rarity lay motionless, sprawled across the griffon's chest, back rising and falling slow rhythm. Her performance was impeccable, so much that her captor himself would not have realized her deception if not for the rapid pounding of the mare's heart and the soft twitching of her nose as she struggled to contain the sound of her sobs. She felt movement.

He clutched her tight between his neck and shoulder, lifting a hand from her back and reaching for the bedside table. Rarity could hear the soft clink of glass as he rocked gently back onto his back. The hand remaining on her back now moved to her neck, where it gingerly nudged her head up and out of its nest among his downy shoulder feathers. Held before her face was a thick crystal container roughly the size of a perfume bottle. Inside its thick panes squatted a dark, viscous liquid. The stopper had been removed. The griffon's voice was a rumble no longer, now barely more than a guttural whisper. "This will help."

Without warning, he held the crystal vial to her mouth and pitched it forward, giving Rarity mere moments to clench her lips shut and loose a quiet cry of protest. The griffon was silent as the fluid began to drain along the underside of her neck, bringing the hand that had been holding her shoulder now to the side of her head, grasping it firmly. He slid his thumb and forefinger along the side of her mouth, eliciting panicked grunts from the mare as his probing fingers gently nudged between her sealed lips, parting them effortlessly. Rarity shook her head weakly against his hold, but within moments the cold glass neck of the bottle was lodged firmly between the crack in lips, its dark contents slowly filling her mouth with a thick, gritty mixture of molasses and ground rootstalk. Her strength long-since spent, the unicorn could only pad her hooves against the pillows past his shoulders as her captor whispered into her ear. "It's okay, it's okay," he rumbled, placing a massive paw across her face, once again swaddling her in darkness. She tried to spit out the concoction, only for his tight grip to force back all but a tiny, pathetic dribble that drooled down under her jaw. Drawing back, Rarity flared her nostrils to inhale and try again.

A thin streak of air whisked into her nose before the the griffon's hand clamped down with greater firmness, forcing her petite nose down against her face. She strained again, this time drawing nearly nothing at all. A dread heat began to rise in her lungs; she was suffocating. The mare gurgled in fear behind the mouthful of fluid, her exhausted limbs twitching back and forth in the darkness. "Swallow," he urged. The heat in her lungs was rapidly rising into a burning ache. Still she twisted, writhing in his grasp. With greater force: "Swallow."

Rarity struggled to sound out a final, burbling cry before choking down the sweet, lumpy mixture. The moment her gulps subsided, his hand withdrew from her face, releasing a tide of tears and painful, hacking coughs. His hand returned, bearing a plain  kerchief that shone in the moonlight as the griffon cleaned first her tears before moving on to her neck and mouth, wetting the fur and carefully expunging the sticky mixture from her coat. He cast aside the kerchief and brought his arms back to her body.

Rarity lay in desperate confusion as he hugged her body to his own. What had she been forced to imbibe? What was he planning- what was going to happen to her? A cold, clammy fog descending over her thoughts, throwing her into a quiet panic as the minutes ticked by in silence. She shivered against his body as an icy tingle worked its way up her spine; he squeezed the mare gently in response. As if on cue, the ornate grandfather clock rang out the hour. She was overcome with a sudden vertigo as her head rolled off his chest to bury her face into the downy feathers of his shoulder.

Thoroughly panicked, Rarity strained to lift her head- only to find it weighted down. A cold sweat broke out across her body as she tried to flex her muscles in turn, each contracting weakly but not responding to her frantic commands. In a final, desperate bid she inhaled and screamed, screamed as loud as she could- but the noise that left her lips and buried itself into her captor's shoulder was but a pitiful rasp that faltered, dying completely as her eyelids sank shut, entombing her in darkness. Her breathing began to slow as the clock ticked on.

Her fears dissolved as drowsiness overtook her. A lightheaded euphoria bubbled up from a well deep within her chest, urging her to lie still in the comfort and warmth of her lover's embrace. She felt only the warmth of the body clutching her to his chest, heard only the rhythm of his beating heart as she drifted slowly into unconsciousness. She felt safe. Her struggle at an end, she slipped beneath the surface and was gone.

He lay awake.

He lay awake, staring up at his hand, at the five smears of dried blood that streaked, like the trails of bizarre comets, from the corresponding claw marks located at the base of each finger. His other palm bore the same painful stigmata. He let them fall to his sides, gently caressing the sleeping Rarity before drawing the bed's sheets over their intertwined bodies.

Hours passed, the night's symphony ebbed and flowed. He remained awake, eyes affixed to a point on the paneled ceiling. The griffon lay on his back, wings folded, the slumbering mare curled at his side. He had draped one of her forelegs over his chest, his own arm hugging her to his side as lovers would. Finally, as the morning's first light began to creep over the horizon, he rose from the bed, replaced the covers gently over her pale form and dismounted the sumptuous bed to tread lightly across the hardwood floor, lingering briefly at the bedroom's threshold. His eyes were rueful as he disappeared behind the creaking teak door. Minutes later, there came a heavy click as the deadbolt slid into place. His padded feet swished softly across the manor's wooden floors as he paced to the windows to watch the coming of the dawn.