The sun had disappeared behind the Everfree by the time they reached the clocktower nestled in the ridges of the Ghastly Gorge. Their kink club couldn’t have chosen a more imposing place for the entrance to their secret lair of debauchery. The old clocktower never failed to make Roseluck feel weak at the knees as its mighty brazier-lit spire loomed above them. Its massive clockface glowed a pale crimson against the twilight sky as it gazed impassionately down upon them.

The spacious stone plaza leading up to the clocktower’s grand staircase was already packed with ponies streaming out of the many teleporter gates from all across Equestria. For some reason the crowd only seemed to grow and grow with no signs of movement at the front. “What’s the hold up?!” Lily whined, hopping up and down to peer over the heads of the increasingly impatient crowd. “I wanna get inside already!”

“So do I. Though not in that way.” Pokey whispered in her ear. He guffawed heartily at her loud eep and explosive blush. “Get up, Rosey. Tell us what’s going on,” he said, lowering himself to allow the smallest of the sisters to climb onto his back. Roseluck clambered on, holding tight as Pokey’s tall form raised her above the crowd.

Roseluck squinted through the early evening gloom, gazing up the grand stairs leading up to the massive gatehouse into Clocktower palace. The light from the mighty braziers allowed her to make out the bottleneck at the gate’s security checkpoint. More guards were arriving to open up extra security booths. “Looks like there’s a queue at the gates,” Roseluck reported, “Though they’re opening up all the extra security gates so we might not have long to wait.”

“I heard there was a breach in security recently. A visitor managed to get into the play areas unattended. They’ve tightened security since,” Daisy remarked, “That’s why they’re building that new visitor’s center inside.”

“The queue is moving!” Roseluck announced excitedly as half the crowd moved towards the newly opened gates. “Giddy up, Master!”

“Okay.” Pokey replied, strolling onwards in what was perhaps the most sedate giddy-up ever. Roseluck gave an enthusiastic ‘yippee ki yay’ anyway.

Roseluck couldn’t help but always feel a touch of trepidation on entering her Master’s (and their) personal suite in the Society’s private accommodations upstairs. Her fellow earth ponies often put it down to how much ancient unicorn magic is warping the space in the Society, making the upper palace far bigger on the inside than it had any right to be. But Roseluck knew there was more to it than that, especially when her anticipation only heightened as she stood in the slave’s antechamber before the doors to her own personal training room.

She had spent about fifteen minutes in her safe, cozy little slave antechamber, inspecting her dock ring and safety bell in the vanity mirror, making sure her hoof and thigh straps were locked secure. She was just brushing her fur for the twentieth time when Daisy and Lily peered through the antechamber’s entrance.

“E-eeep!” Roseluck cried, dropping the brush from her mouth.

“Why are you still in here?!” Lily hissed, “Master’s waiting for you inside!” She gestured at the door opposite leading into Roseluck’s training room.

“I, well, um...had a flat tyre?” Roseluck suggested with a sheepish little smile. “Uh, are you two sure you’re not coming in there with me?”

“Uh, no.” Daisy raised an eyebrow like a readied whip.

“I’ll do the composting and fertilizer for a month?” Roseluck pleaded.

“No.” Daisy said, simply.

“Two months?” Roseluck begged.

“Hmm, make it three and you have a de-...” Lily was cut short by Daisy’s hoof plugging up her mouth.

“The two of us have lots of preparation work to do for your big day tomorrow so it’s all on you to entertain Master tonight.” Daisy said, firmly.

“We’re most certainly not going to be in the observation room, watching and clopping to Master rutting you into the floor and…” Lily began before she was cut short again, this time by Daisy strapping her ballgag on. “Mpph!” Lily protested plaintively.

Daisy cleared her throat loudly. “Yes, we have lots of work to get to. So please don’t leave Master waiting.” She smiled a little as she opened the door fully and strolled in. “Come on, Rose. You know Master’s going to want to spend some special alone time just with you before your breeding tomorrow.” She nuzzled her sister comfortingly. Roseluck felt her tensions melt away into her beloved sister’s gentle caress. “If only to be able to ruin you as roughly as he pleases one last time tonight,” she added with a mischievous grin, “Now go get’em, manticoress!” Daisy patted her on the withers encouragingly.

Roseluck could only meep helplessly at that.

“Okay, that was less ‘manticoress’, more ‘mouse’, but I’ll take what I can get.” Daisy conceded.

“Mpph!” Lily gave her own muffled sounds of encouragement. Together Daisy and Lily pushed Roseluck through the door, depositing their sister in her training room on the other side.

“Wait! I left my express train to Yakyakistan inside!” Roseluck wailed, scrabbling for the door. Unfortunately it closed with a resounding click, its bolt sliding home from the other side. “Noooooo!”

“Trust me, you won’t be needing that, Rosey,” a deep voice intoned, dispelling her every trepidation, replacing everything with one and only one compulsion – obey.

She meekly looked around. She found her Master where he sat waiting on a pile of cushions in the middle of the room. It was a room of her own design, straight out of her darkest fantasies, styled as a medieval Equestrian breeding chamber from the pre-unification days where breeding slaves like her would be broken and kept. The Society’s room designers had helpfully tailored everything to her fantasy, setting up a cage along one wall, suspension hoops and chains in the walls and ceilings, stocks, paddling bench, whipping post, display cabinets to organize all her special toys, everything a (kinky) girl could ever want. One wall was left bare, set up to be collapsible to unite her training room with Master’s bedroom. Her sisters’ personal training rooms were similarly designed, making up the other two sides of the central bedroom, allowing them to be coralled and caged under Master’s bed after play.

“Sorry, Master, just...thinking out loud,” Roseluck murmured awkwardly as she bowed to her Master in greeting. “Um, your slave is here for you, Master.”

Her Master seemed to give her a long, appraising look. “You can go to sleep if you’re feeling tired,” he finally said, “I’ll only ask that you let me cuddle you to sleep. I, well, I simply want to be together with you tonight.” Roseluck hadn’t heard her Master hesitate in a long, long time. She knew he always worked hard to maintain the inspiringly confident dom persona his subs expected of him. For her perfectionist Master to flounder, even briefly….

“N-no, Master!” Roseluck quickly rushed to her Master’s side. “This slave wishes to be with you too,” she said earnestly as she lowered herself flat against the wood-tiled floor in her usual gesture of submission. “Please, allow this pet to serve you tonight, Master,” she pleaded, peering up at him meekly in that special way she knew he loved.

Normally her meek upward-peek would earn her an excited throb from his stallionhood, maybe even a lustful growl or the occasional impatient pounce. But to her surprise he reached down and gently pulled her into a deep, tender kiss. She allowed her astonishment to simply melt away into the kiss as she moaned blissfully into his mouth, her tongue cheekily seeking out his, only for his tongue to grasp her own and draw her deep into his mouth. She mewled helplessly as he suckled and caressed her tongue deeply in a show of affection he normally reserved for those tender moments after a long hard session. She felt herself grow limp in his embrace, quickly realizing he didn’t need shackles and whips to dominate her. Even a single kiss was enough to overwhelm her heart and make it his.

It was a while before Pokey finally let her go. To Roseluck, it felt like an eternity of loving bliss. She was abruptly snapped out of her euphoria at the sight of her Master’s eyes brimming with tears. “P-Pokey, are you alright?” She gasped, suddenly breaking character.

To her bewilderement, her stallion only chuckled softly, “Sorry, Rosey, sorry. I’m just, well, overwhelmed, by, y’know, us and the foal thing and everything,” he sighed, gazing deeply into her eyes with a look that spoke of profound joy, his usual dom mask all but dropped. She hadn’t seen him break roleplay in a long time, not since they tied the knot when he gave her her eternity collar. “I’m sorry I popped the bubble. I’m ready to continue. I…” Pokey Pierce was silenced by his wife pulling his head gently against her chest.

“Clockface,” Roseluck invoked the safeword for him as she cradled her stallion in her hooves. Her normally powerful and stoic Master felt so soft, so warm, so fragile against her as he returned her hug with an almost desperate hold. “I know, Pokey. I feel the same,” she whispered softly in his ear. “I know we’ve been talking about this lots, you, Daisy, Lily and me. But it really only hit me when you bought me that book earlier,” she admitted with happy little sniffle. “Just how much I want this, to do this with you, and Lily and Daisy; Just how incredibly happy it makes me; How happy you make me.”

“Me too, Rosey,” he chuckled wetly, burying his face in her chest. “My special talent is helping others with their foals. It just...it just didn’t strike me that it’s really actually our turn to have our own until today….until I saw you reading that book, how beautiful you looked with that warm glow on your face. Just knowing that...that maybe, possibly, such a wonderful mare might want this as much as I do, share this incredible thing with me...it’s just…” he faltered, biting his lips as words failed him. But he didn’t need them. Their eyes met. In that singular moment they knew they shared that exact same feeling, that knowledge that they were about to take the step and give their love for one another a life, a soul, a beating heart of its own.

They leaned forwards. Their lips met halfway, joining together in another deep kiss that said everything else that needed to be said.

“I love you so much,” Roseluck whispered between pants, breaking the kiss for a breath for but a moment before diving back in.

“And I love you,” Pokey replied as they surfaced for air once more, “You three are the most incredible things to ever happen to me,” he sighed, gazing up at her, admiring everything that was beautiful and amazing about his wife. “Heheh, thank you for putting up with me there,” he chuckled, sheepishly.

“And you, me,” Roseluck smiled, nuzzling the tears off his face with her own.

“But our breeding like rabbits isn’t ‘till tomorrow,” her stallion said, suddenly straightening up, “Tonight it’s all about you. Tell me, what do you want?” He asked, caressing her cheeks.

She blushed softly as she gazed up at him meekly. She knew exactly what she wanted. “Everypony, including you, are going to treat me like glass and probably just tickle me for sex for eleven months straight from tomorrow onwards.” She grinned knowingly at his sheepish smile. “So tonight…” She licked her lips. “I want you to have your way with me as rough and hard as you can.” She gave him the most smouldering look he had ever seen her put on.

“Don’t worry, Rosey,” he smiled sinisterly, putting his dom mask back on, “I planned on exactly that. Ready?”

“Clockface,” Roseluck declared her safeword with an eager smile.

“Clockface,” he counter-signed, his eyes narrowing evilly. “The whole world will know you’re my little breeding cunt when your belly’s all stuffed and full with my foal,” he hissed, his forehooves firmly tracing a line along her trembling inner thighs up towards her smooth, round pony-belly. She moaned as he slapped her cutie-marks for emphasis, her hips a perfect fit for his tight grip. He had sculpted those flanks, that butt, even her cute belly and pussy mound, by giving her the right amount of exercise to build the perfect amount of firm muscle for padding, feeding her the exact amount of sugar and fat to give it that jiggly marshmallowy softness that made her such a joy to squeeze and spank. “But until then, I need to declare to the world that you’re mine. Prepare for your collaring, slave,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master,” Roseluck said eagerly, reaching out to the silk pillow bearing her adamantite eternity collar where it rested upon an ornate pedestal by her Master’s side. She offered the pillow bearing her collar up to her Master who accepted it with barely a nod. She had noticed the collaring block sitting to one side, a rectangular stock with a recess moulded to hold her neck still for collaring. She ignored it, opting instead for her own favourite collaring block.

“You’re so eager to be marked as my fucktoy, slave,” he chuckled wickedly, watching her rest her neck upon his broad thigh.

“Please make this slave yours, Master,” his slave pleaded demurely, “This pet begs you.” She reached behind her head and pulled her mane aside, bearing her neck for him. She felt a proud flutter run through her as she felt her Master’s stallionhood throb and twitch desperately against her chest.

“Silly little pet,” he growled. She whimpered as he planted his forehoof on her head, holding her in place possessively for her collaring. “You’re already mine.” He levitated the collar into his other hoof. She felt the soft silk padding brush against her fur as it wrapped about her neck. “Mind, body, and soul,” he declared as he tightened the strap slowly, deliberately. Roseluck felt her breath catch, her heart thumping wildly as she felt the collar tighten around her neck like Master’s inescapable grip. “All mine.” Her heart skipped a beat at the resounding finality of his padlock locking the collar in place. The padlock rested heavy and cold against her chest, a heart-shaped crest emblazoned with his cutie-mark, declaring to everypony that she was his property.

She whimpered helplessly as he slowly, firmly ran a forehoof down her face and collar, trailing across her chest and wide curve of her flank before ending just short of dock ring. She gave a loud yelp as he took hold of her tail, giving it a firm tug. “A-aah…” She mewled as he began to pull her dock ring further down towards the root of her dock, lodging it firmer and tighter at the base. Then, with little fanfare, he pulled the retractable cord out of its housing in her dock ring and anchored it to the back of her collar. She moaned hard as he cruelly tightened the cord, hitching her tail higher and higher, revealing her damp leaking pussy and twitching tailhole for the world to see.

“I’m going to start training you to be my personal breeding slave tomorrow. It’s a brand new raison d'être, especially for my adorable little anal slave. Tell me, what are we going to do tonight to prepare you for your new purpose in life, pet?” He demanded of her.

Her heart thumped faster and faster as she realized what he was about to do. What’s more, he wanted her to tell him. “Y-you’re…” She felt her mouth go dry with anticipation. “You’re going t-to break me thoroughly t-tonight so you can m-mould me into whatever you w-wish tomorrow, Master,” she squeaked tremulously at the very thought.

“Do you want to be broken, pet?” He asked, his voice suddenly turning soft as he gave her cheeks a possessive caress. “To have your mind, body, heart and soul emptied and forged into a vessel for my desires?”

“Y-y-yes, Master!” She replied, “P-please break this slave,”

“I can’t hear you, pet,” he teased.

“Please!” She pleaded, assuming her begging position with her chest on the floor, her head gently pressed against his hooftip in offering. “This slave desires to be broken utterly and bound entirely to your will, Master! Please grant this slave her wish!” She begged him to seal her fate.

“Good pet,” he smiled approvingly, making her tingle all over with anticipation, “Go select two whips you want me to break you with.”

“Yes, Master,” her hooves felt wobbly as she tried to stand up on them. They somehow managed to carry her over to the wall panel displaying Master’s collection of whips along one side of the room, next to her wall-mounted St. Hayward’s cross and whipping bench. Each one was labelled with her name, signifying they were for use exclusively on her. She shivered as she selected two, kissing them reverentially as she took them down from their displays. She bore the instruments of her own enslavement back to her Master, knowing full well how they were about to play a role in ruining her.

“The pussy flogger and your heavy anal crop,” her Master mused out loud as she lay on the floor before him once more to offer the toys to him. “Tell me, pet, why these two?”

“Because,” she gulped at the question, her throat suddenly feeling drier than the Saddle Arabian desert. She was practically being asked to spell out her own impending doom, a task most cruel. “M-Master specializes in overstimulation b-by building many, many layers of pleasure and p-pain to overwhelm and make a slave completely yours.” She flinched at his cocked eyebrow. “I-I mean, M-Master is going to slowly t-torture and tease and torture this p-pet some more until she gives in and breaks,” she described her fate as best as she can.

“Good pet,” he cooed, caressing her whimpering form with the pussy flogger. “Let’s start with your marehood. Assume your pussy training position.” He dropped a pillow on the floor for her.

She obediently planted herself on her back, sliding the pillow under the small of her back to give her rear the leverage to offer her foalhole up to her Master. With flexibility born of her Master’s exercise and training regime, she spread her rear hooves wide to either side, using her front hooves to pull them apart extra wide, allowing him complete access to her most intimate parts. He smirked approvingly, his magical glow casting deep shadows across his face. He helped stretch those last precious few inches, drawing a soft groan from her. He secured her rear hoof straps to anchor rings in the floor, holding her wide open. She allowed her forehooves to be ponyhandled into place and secured to her thigh straps, giving her just enough leeway so she could hold her own pussy folds open for him.

Her heart quickened as he stood back to admire her beautiful form spread helplessly open for him, his eyes gleaming with barely-restrained lust. She felt a surge of pride at the sight of her stallion’s mighty cock rising up to full mast at the sight of her alone. She let out a stiffled moan as he slowly, torturously ran a forehoof along her leaking slit. “Such a wet, messy cunny. Are you this eager to be ruined?” He teased, showing her his forehoof dripping wet with her glistening arousal.

She only moaned in answer, reaching up to lick her own thick, tangy lust from his hoof. She quivered excitedly at how his cock throbbed obscenely with desire at the feel of her tongue stroking and caressing his hoof.

“Hmm, such a delightful little tongue. I don’t want you biting it accidentally tonight,” he said, impassively using her soft fuzzy cheeks to wipe the drool off his hoof. She whined eagerly, leaning up to meet his hoof with her cheeks as she revelled in being used as his hoofmat. “Let’s give you something to bite on.” She licked her lips hungrily at the sight of her inflatable gag being levitated over from its display case. “Test your safety bell,” he ordered. She nodded, giving the safety bell tied to the end of her tail a test ring. “Good. Any last words before you are broken?” He asked as he screwed on the pump to her inflatable gag.

She only smiled up at him, willingly opening her mouth to accept her gag with a desirous moan.

“Good filly.” He cupped her muzzle with one forehoof, eliciting a whimper from her as he gave it a firm squeeze to hold it open. He pressed the rubber bulb of the gag into her muzzle, rubbing it sensuously into her tongue. She mewled helplessly as he began to inflate the bulb. It was especially moulded for her muzzle, firmly depressing her tongue and fitting snugly against her cheeks, spreading her mouth just enough to trick her senses into thinking she was about to be pleasurably throatfucked but with enough leeway to allow it to comfortably settle for long periods in her muzzle.

The gag didn’t come too soon. She cried into it as her Master’s tingly magical grasp pinched her nipples, slowly twisting and tugging them mercilessly. The tender nubs quickly engorged and swelled under his grasp. She moaned as his magic roughly gripped the soft mounds of her breasts, kneading them from the base to the tip to give her erect nipples that extra bit of firmness. She let out a scream as her Master suddenly pounced on one tender mound, sinking his teeth into her sensitive skin before dragging his teeth firmly towards the tip, finishing by nipping her swollen teat, twisting and stretching it as far as it could go. She cried helplessly as his forehoof found her other breast mound, spanking it hard against his magical grip, stretching her nipple from the impact. Just as her poor, abused teats were stretched to their limits, a pair of magically-levitated clover clamps sank their teeth into their sensitive roots, drawing a long, hard moan from her.

She was still panting hard, her breasts and nipples tingling madly, when she dazedly noticed his shadow loom over her. “Spread your pussy,” he ordered. Her trembling forehooves stretched her quivering flower petals open as far as her restraints allowed. She yelped as she felt the familiar sting of her pussy flogger against her spread marehood, her poor nipples bouncing to the weight of their tight clover clamps. She bit down on her gag, obediently holding her poor petals open to allow her sensitive inner flesh to be whipped three more times in quick succession, sending hot marecum splashing all over her thighs and belly. The bite of the short, accurate flogger struck her to the very core of her being. He stopped spanking her to gently caress her burning marehood with the rough straps of the flogger, setting off sparks in her tender flesh.

She used the brief reprieve to dazedly ponder her fate. She knew this was just a building block that Master will build more layers on, each step contributing to the intensity of the next, all groundwork for the ultimate rutting intended to utterly ruin her. Before she could get comfortable, he brought the whip down again hard, once, twice, thrice, four, five times this time, smattering her pussy juice everywhere before it could collect again. The caressing that followed only heightened her sensitivity, sending electric thrills through her entire body. It was quickly followed by another series of whippings, six times this time. She was a quivering wreck, her cunny lips reddened and swollen to that point of exquisite tenderness but far short of lasting bruising. Every droplet of marecum dribbling down her oversensitized petals was enough to make her quiver.

She panted hard, biting down on her gag as she rang her safety bell once, a signal only she and her sisters used with their Master. It coded for ‘I’m edging my climax’.

“Getting so wet from having your pussy whipped hard.” He showed her the dripping wet whip before wiping her hot, sticky essence across her belly. “I can only imagine the mess you’ll be when I break you.” His whisper made her tremble from mane to hoof. “Edge it,” he growled, “Save everything for when you give all of yourself to me.”

She nodded determinedly. Master had trained her to edge her surrender, that thing she once called ‘orgasms’, making her hold it off for longer and longer as her edging training progressed over the years. Now only Master’s word of command could trigger her ultimate surrender.

Her eyes widened as she watched him run his tongue over what she recognized as a set of small Chineigh balls organized in a long chain of beads, each orb lined with rounded rubber spikes. “Release your pussy lips,” he ordered. She whimpered tearfully as the swollen ridges of her tender flower petals came back together, their contact stinging her harshly. As she expected, her pussy-whipping was simply groundwork to intensify her impending stuffing. “Let’s see how many balls you can take in today.”

She whimpered pitifully, squirming against her bonds as he pressed the first orb against her inflamed pussy lips. She arched her back as the ball’s spiky girth spread her tender petals apart. She gave a tortured cry as her whipped insides clenched around the spiky intruder, impaling her swollen flesh against the rubber protrusions. Every motion and contraction around the ball caused the two heavy counter weights inside to shift, causing the ball to roll and alter its pressure points inside her. She stiffened as the second ball stretching her apart almost sent her over the edge into an explosive orgasm. She bit down on her gag as she fought to stem the flow of marecum. Unfortunately that meant clenching down on the spiked orbs, forcing her into a vicious circle of stimulation and edging.

Just as her cunning Master planned, no doubt.

She cried and gasped, her rearhooves tensing hard against her restraints as he idly pushed another orb past her swollen lips, forcing the orbs inside to settle heavily against her twitching depths. It was like a slow, gradual hoofing, each orb filling her fuller and fuller, their rounded spikes stretching her tender insides further and further. She dazedly managed to peer through her tears, watching as her belly began to bulge with his merciless stuffing. The sight made her dribble a fresh trickle of juices, easing the last of the orbs entering her.

“You took all of them today. Well done, pet.” She glowed at his praise as he petted her overstuffed mound. “Now, hold it all in.” She felt him release her restraints, allowing her to flop limply onto the floor. She shivered, moaning pitifully as every motion threatened to push her into violent orgasm. “You are almost ready for your breaking, slave. Come, crawl over to your breaking rack.” He raised a cover sheet as a magician might raise the curtains on his crowning act, revealing an especially prepared stage for her final performance. It was draped in fine red velvet and covered with scattered rose petals. In the middle stood a rack designed to withstand earth-pony-grade struggling, set up to hold her with her rear in the air and her chest and face against the floor in perfect submission. At its center where her rear would be was her ‘anal anchor’, less a wooden horse and more a short, ribbed rubber wedge on a pole onto which Master would anchor and mercilessly grind her pussy while he rutted her tailhole. At the head-end of the anchor was a cup with a clover clamp designed to hold her by the root of her clit, exposing her tender nub to the exquisite strip of Neighponese silk lining the inside of the cup.

Being an anal slave, the anal anchor was familiar to her. It was an intimate part of her early anal slave training. In fact, everything she had endured tonight were nothing new by themselves. She knew that it was exactly because both she and her Master were so familiar with them, that he knew exactly where her body’s limits were with individual toy, that he could confidently bring them all together into a medley of pain and pleasure that would take her to her very limits and beyond.

She staggered deliriously, her marehood clenching to try and hold in her stuffing. Every slow, laborious step caused her chain of balls to shift and roll inside her, threatening to throw her over the edge into hard, blissful climax. She moaned hard in between pants as she took one step after another, crawling obediently towards her place of breaking.

She almost stumbled over the platform. Her Master was there to catch her, bearing her weight on his forehoof. She smiled gratefully up at him around her gag. He flashed her a little smile of encouragement in return. “Just a bit more,” he whispered in her ear. She gave a triumphant groan as she dragged herself into place on her rack, amazed that she had somehow held the balls inside her that long.

He wasted no time in pulling her front hooves into position, securing her hoof straps to their anchor points in her rack. He did the same with her rear hooves, spreading her legs as wide as the could go while keeping her rear high up in the air. She whimpered as he drew the rack, stretching her body taut as it lowered her swollen pussy into the anal anchor. The wedge spread her inflamed folds open wide, its rounded ribs digging into her whipped pussy lips. She moaned as the balls stuffed inside her settled against the ribs in the wedge. She had certainly never ridden the anal anchor with these balls inside.

She stiffened as she felt his breathing against her battered mare folds, every breath of hot air teasing her wet flesh. She shivered as he licked her outer folds, giving them extra lubrication on top of her own for her impending grinding. Her thighs instinctively tried to rub together, but the rack only allowed her to squirm at best. She gave a loud, helpless cry as he bit down on her tender petal, stretching it downwards. He suddenly let it go with a snarl, allowing it to slide across the ribbed edges of the wedge. She groaned as he bit down on it again, stretching her further this time before he let her go. Stretch, release, stretch, release, alternating sides each time. She could only whimper and squirm as he stretched both folds further and further with each tug, warming them up. She gave a loud cry as his magical grip finally tugged both lips simultaneously, clamping the swollen flesh with clover clamps anchored to the wedge. For completeness, he secured her nipple clamps to the anchor as well, ensuring every little motion would twist and tug her poor helpless teats.

She had almost forgotten her clit clamp. He hadn’t, obviously. She screamed into her gag as his prickly magic gripped the glans of her clit, reaching far down to its base beneath its hood. She felt him touch her very core as he dug out the root of her clit, presenting it up to the clit clamp. She braced herself, biting down hard on her gag. But no amount of bracing could prepare her for the clamp’s merciless grip upon the root of her clit. She arched her back, crying soundlessly, every muscle in her body tensing as she teetered on the very edge of orgasm.

“You’re almost ready, slave.” She barely heard him say over her hard panting. “You’ve done well preparing yourself so far. Now, tell me, how many strikes upon your tailhole do you think it’ll take to prepare it perfectly?” He asked as he spread her flanks apart, revealing her tightly puckered tailhole beneath her dock ring.

“T-weenneigh, M-Mathter” Roseluck panted wearily through her gag.

“Twenty? Very well, start counting, pet,” he ordered.

Being an anal slave, her tailhole was in many ways more sensitive and easy to pleasure than her marehood. This made tailhole whippings a far more careful procedure than pussy whippings for Roseluck. She had gifted her Master with a special heavy anal crop, sized especially for the tight ring of her tailhole to allow him to give her precision tailhole whipping with carefully controlled levels of strength and force. Even then, he always made her lead her whipping by counting out her croppings.

“W-wan,” Roseluck called through her gag. She squealed loudly as the crop landed squarely on her puckered star. Her entire body bucked against her restraints, driving the anal anchor into her pussy, rattling the balls inside her. She gasped for breath as the tight ring of anal muscle spasmed around the sting. “D-dwo!” She called. The second strike came down even harder, making her tug and stretch herself against her anal anchor. “Fhwee!” THWACK! “Fow!” THWACK! The rapid and steady strokes of the crop landed one after another on her ass with little remorse.

At ten strokes he stopped to inspect the quivering wreck of a mare in front of him. She cried and bucked as he proved her tailhole, pressing his hooftip against her spasming pucker, testing it for sensitivity and tightness. “What do you think, pet?” He called out to her.

She shivered as she shook her head slowly in answer.

“No, I didn’t think this was enough either,” He agreed with her. “Keep counting.”

She took a slow, deep breath as she readied herself once more. “E-e-ewefen!” THWACK! “D-dweeeef!” THWACK!

By twenty croppings she was a drooling, wheezing wreck. Her ponut had swollen to a thick, delicious plumpness. He didn’t even need to touch it to prove it. A single breath upon the inflamed star was enough to make her squeal and buck against her restraints. He wouldn’t be able to press into it anyway. The tight, fleshy ring was swollen shut. Only a firm, powerful thrust from her Master would pry it open now.

“Your preparations are complete, pet.” her Master declared. She felt the merciful coolness of anal lube being lathered onto her abused tailhole, dribbling down her clamped pussy lips onto the anal anchor. She whimpered as she felt the hoof-sized flare of his mighty stallionhood press up against her tightly swollen tailhole. She didn’t even bother to brace herself. There was no point. She hung limply, resigning herself to her fate. There was no doubt. She was about to be utterly and completely broken.

What followed was beyond incredible.

Her Master mounted her fully, grabbing hold of her around her chest, his body weighing down into the small curve of her back. Her heart leapt at the feeling of her stallion covering her entire body possessively, at his mighty weight driving her down upon her anal anchor. She gave a shrill cry of mixed triumph and pain as the weight of his mounting pried her swollen-shut tailhole wide open. Her abused ring of tender flesh could only spasm helplessly under the mass and girth of his penetration.

She was just fighting to desperately hold onto the edge when her Master finally gave her the command she had been waiting for, “Give yourself to me, my little slave, hard and long! Give me everything!” He bit down on her mane, pulling hard on her neck in conquest. She threw her head back and screamed her surrender into her gag, offering every bit of herself, her body, her mind and soul to him. He was eager to take it, all of it, as he sank deeper into her spasming tailhole, his enormous cock working her through her body-shaking climax.

He took his time, every firm, deliberate stroke of his stallionhood invading her depths deeper than the last. His cock fought for every tight millimeter against the tight, spasming muscles of her ass. Every stroke was a conquest, every thrust a domination as he claimed more and more of her. With every powerful penetration he mercilessly grinded her into her anal anchor, driving the ribbed wedge deep into her ball-stuffed foalhole, rubbing her exposed clit into the strip of silk. With every withdrawal her swollen, inflamed tailhole would stretch obscenely around his receding cock, her pussy lips and nipples stretched taut against their anchors. Then he would slam into the tender flesh of her whipped ass and pussy once more, driving his cock home.

He did not hurry, working his slave over at his own torturous pace. For his slave, her ordeal stretched into an eternity, every sense in her little body long since overloaded. She had lost count of her orgasms. She didn’t even know where one began and another ended. Everything had melted together into the singularity that was her Master, filling her with his very being. This was her being broken, turned into a limp, twitching, drooling vessel that only existed to be filled with his desire.

And so she broke.

Her mind, her heart, her soul floated into a subspace of pleasure beyond anything physical - a beautiful, happy place where there was only her Master and the wonderful bond between them. There was no more desire or want here. There was only him. She was home.

He gave a loud, triumphant roar as his cock finally struck her innermost depths, his mighty stallionhood surging with wave after wave of hot, fiery stallion seed. He bucked into her as he sought to fill her to the brim with his essence. Her belly, already bulging with her stuffing, began to swell even further until it was taut with seed. The swollen pucker of her tailhole bulged around the cock plugging it until its tight seal finally broke under the pressure of his cum. He panted as he slowly pulled his cock out amidst the rivulets of thick cum dribbling out of her ruined, gaping tailhole.

He took but a moment to gather his breath before he set about releasing her from her anchor and rack. He levitated over the pile of pillows, turning his lap into a soft cradle. He carefully pulled her limp body into his embrace. He gently deflated her gag and pulled it out, quickly kissing her to suck out all the pooled drool in her mouth to ensure she didn’t choke on any of it. She barely quivered as he gently eased out the chain of Chineigh balls out of her marehood. He then levitated over a baby bottle filled with water. “Drink,” he ordered as he pressed the rubber teats against her lips. She obeyed wordlessly, suckling the bottle silently like the doll she had been reduced to. Once he was satisfied she had drunk enough, he loosely linked her hoofstraps together just the way she liked being bound after a long, hard rutting. He then sat back to cuddle with her, allowing his freshly-broken mare to properly imprint upon her Master. He smiled down at her dim, unfocused eyes, their extinguished sparkle a mark of their success in breaking her. “Well done, my little slave,” he whispered softly as he rocked her the rest of the way into the welcome embrace of sleep. “Well done.”

"Uh, clockface."

"Hmm? What is it, Pokey?"

"I think I might have left the pet bowls unwashed in the sink. Can you let me get up so I can nip home and...."

"Oh, shut up. Less talk, more cuddle."

Author's Note

So you might have noticed the themes of this story are very similar to Love Tap's and High Score's. That's because they are the themes I love the most and I'm kinda writing this one to unwind.

So you might have noticed each and every couple we've seen in the story so far have very different relationship dynamics. See if you can pick out what sort of dynamic Pokey has with his subs, contrasting how he is at home with how he is in the bedroom.