"Awww… Such a Cute Couple," Said No Pony Ever in the History of Equestria
Author's Note
This was a request.
I think the request was a joke.
I wrote it anyway.
"Awww… Such a Cute Couple," Said No Pony Ever in the History of Equestria
“… and that is why, even with a princess in our small town, Ponyville still needs a mayor.”
Mayor Mare finished her speech and was given a half-hearted applause by a skeptical audience. It was a tough crowd — they were hard to convince, as many had been lately — now Twilight Sparkle was a princess, many ponies didn’t see the need for Ponyville to continue to have a mayor, suggesting the two roles be rolled into one, with the Princess of Friendship taking on the mayor’s duties.
Miss Cheerilee patted Mayor Mare on the back. “I’m sorry that didn’t go as you’d hoped, Mary,” said the mayor’s childhood friend and long time supporter, trying to comfort the mayor. “Elementary school foals are a very politically savvy audience these days.”
The mayor sighed and slinked out of the classroom. If she couldn’t convince a class of school foals, what hope did she have when Celestia and Luna sent their representatives next month?
She sat on a bench in the playground outside the school house, and rested her head in her forehooves. What she needed was a little stress relief.
*
Half an hour later, the school bell rang. Button Mash half-galloped out of the building, excited to get back home and play the latest addition to his vast video game collection. He pushed past the new kid with black and white fur and a pink mane while hurrying out of the school gates. She didn’t say anything about being pushed — she never seemed to say anything anyway.
Even if he hadn’t been distracted by dreams of blasting away zombie ponies, Button probably wouldn’t have noticed the wisp of grey mane poking out from the tree just around the corner from school, a block from his house. After the hoof shot out and clamped a dirty but sweet-smelling rag over his muzzle, his vision started to spin and soon he noticed nothing.
Button Mash became aware of a pain in his back. Not a sharp pain. Not even really a pain, he supposed. It was a dull I-haven’t-been-sleeping-in-a-very-comfy-position kind of a feeling. He tried to get into a more comfortable position but found he couldn’t. What was stopping him? He couldn’t tell; he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see anything! Why was it so dark? Had his mum forgotten to put his nightlight on? He tried to remember bed time. He couldn’t remember bed time. He couldn’t remember anything about yesterday afternoon. He’d been at school… he’d been going home… and then… nothing.
Button tried again to get into a more comfortable position. He was bent over, his knees on the ground, and his face pressed against the floor as well. His cute little flank was raised high in the air. His forelegs were underneath him, not supporting him but between his rear legs. He tried drawing them up so he could get onto all fours but found he couldn’t — straps dug into his fetlocks, binding them to his rear hooves.
What was going on? An image came to him: Mayor Mare’s face. The sweet-smelling rag. The world spinning. Then nothing.
“Hello?” he called out.
No response.
Why couldn’t he see anything? Even with the lights out, his eyes ought to have adjusted by now. That was when he became aware of the presence of a length of fabric tied around his head, passing over his eyes. In his groggy half-wakefulness, it had taken him a while to notice he was blindfolded.
He did a quick mental inventory. There was the blindfold. No gag, it seemed. His forehooves were strapped to his rear legs… felt like leather. There was something around his neck too… more leather? His rear legs also seemed to be bound to the ground, slightly apart, making it impossible for him to lie on his side or shuffle across the floor.
Button Mash began to suspect that he might have been abducted.
“Help!” he called.
His voice echoed off the walls.
He continued to scream until his throat was sore, but nopony came.
He lay waiting.
Button Mash woke up. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep. His situation didn’t seem to have changed — still bound and blindfolded on a cold stone floor. But something felt different — he felt a presence in the room. He couldn’t hear anypony, certainly couldn’t see anypony, but nonetheless he was sure that somepony was there.
“Hello?” he whispered, hopeful.
Hoof steps crossed the floor, confirming his suspicions.
“Help?” he implored, though he knew whoever was there likely wasn’t here to help.
He heard it before he felt it: a swish through the air. His flank felt like it had been set on fire, the impact feeling hot against his fur, and he screamed. He didn’t know what he’d been hit with but it felt broad, like a paddle, the back of a hair brush, or a table tennis racquet. Didn’t make a lot of difference what it was, it hurt like hell.
Another swish, another excruciating blow to his rear end. He cried out again, but his screams of pain just echoed off the walls.
“Why?!” he wailed, but got no answer other than another smack.
After a few minutes, his screams for help had turned into resigned sobbing and his invisible assailant finally gave the broken colt some peace. Hoof steps receded out of the room and he was alone again.
Button Mash lay crying, his flanks feeling black and blue — he wouldn’t be able to sit down for days… not that he could sit down with these restraints anyway. He felt hunger pangs and heard his stomach rumble. How long had he been here?
“Why me?” he choked into the darkness.
Button Mash woke again. He didn’t even have a clue whether it was day or night. All he knew was that He was there — the mysterious stallion who had foalnapped him. Button hadn’t heard His voice or seen His face, but Button knew his life now revolved around His will.
“Can I… can I have something to eat?” Button asked nervously. He was thirsty too, but drinking in this position… it didn’t seem possible.
Swish. Smack. Pain. Tears.
Button decided to keep quiet.
Minutes passed. He was still there; Button knew it.
Button heard hoofsteps circling around him. They came to a stop near his rear end.
Without warning, a jolt of pain shot up his spine. Something large, thick, was being forced into his anus. Button screamed as the smooth object tore him open, or at least felt like it was. This was supposed to be an exit hole, not an entrance, he had thought everypony knew that.
Button squirmed, trying to escape the invading object but with his forehooves bound to his legs and strapped to the floor, he didn’t have a way out.
He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth; the thing, whatever it was, was going deeper. What was it? It wasn’t the stallion’s cock — it didn’t feel warm enough to be that… not body temperature… room temperature. It could have been anything: a broom handle, a chair leg, a flag pole. Whatever it was, it was solid, not soft, it was thick, and it hurt like Tartarus.
Button sighed with relief when he felt the stallion start to withdraw the object only to scream louder with fresh new pain as it was rammed back into his rectum. He thrust the object in and out of Button’s butt with seemingly no concern for the pain the captive colt was so obviously suffering.
After minutes, the pain turned to mere discomfort, Button’s anal ring having adjusted to the girth of whatever thing it was penetrating him from behind. Whatever damage it was doing to him — whatever tears and bruises it was leaving on his insides — it was already done, and now his rectum could accommodate the phallus.
Button groaned and relaxed when the He finally pulled the object out with a squelching sound that echoed off the walls of the room. Button heard hoofsteps as He circled the room, seemingly studying the young colt from every angle.
Button felt a yank on his neck. The collar that he’d forgotten he was even wearing, he’d grown so used to it, was being tugged to raise his face from the floor with some kind of leash. His face had been pushed against that cold stone surface for so long, that when He lifted it, Button felt pins and needles as blood rushed back into his numb flesh. His neck was now strained at an uncomfortable angle.
Something was pushed against Button’s lips. Though he couldn’t see it, he quickly deduced exactly what it was. From the smell, Button knew that he was being presented with the tip of whatever had penetrated him.
Button Mash closed his eyes — a futile effort due to his blindfold — and shook his head. He felt a hoof on one cheek, steadying his head. The object was pushed harder against his lips. Button took a deep breath through his nose, realizing he wasn’t going to be given a lot of choice in this. He parted his lips and wrapped them around the object.
In his mouth, it didn’t feel as unreasonably large as it had when inserted in the other end, but that certainly didn’t make its presence any more welcome. The rubbery surface was coated with a thin sheen tasting of Button’s own faeces, in all probability mixed with a bit of blood.
He moved the dildo in and out of Button’s mouth, Button doing his best to clean every inch of it, as he imagined that would please Him. Perhaps if he did a good job pleasing Him, Button would be allowed to go home.
The stallion became increasingly enthusiastic with the dildo, for that was what Button supposed it was, thrusting it in and out of Button’s mouth. When the tip hit the entrance to his throat, Button felt himself gag — he was sure he’d have been sick if there had been anything in his stomach.
After a few minutes’ violent throatfucking, during which Button’s feelings varied from resigned tolerance, to panic at not being able to breathe, experiencing everything in between, He had seemingly had enough, and took the dildo out of Button’s mouth. Button heard something thud on the floor, and assumed that the dildo had been discarded.
The leash or rope that was attached to his collar was released, and Button once again rested his head on the ground.
“Please… sir…” Button croaked, “can I have some food?”
There was no response for a few moments, then Button heard His hoofsteps leave the room.
Button closed his eyes and began to cry, until just a few moments later, he heard Him return. Button couldn’t believe how this stallion… this monster… returning had filled him with a sense of relief — he wasn’t being abandoned to starve.
Button felt something at his lips once more, but it wasn’t the dildo. It was a bottle. Button drank greedily from the bottle, though in his current position, more ended up on the floor than going down his throat. Still, the refreshment was more than welcome.
When the bottle was finished, and Button had swallowed his last mouthful, Button heard the hoofsteps leave the room again. His stomach rumbled while he waited for Him to return with the food.
Button Mash woke again. The next day? Maybe. Button had no way of keeping track of time other than the growing pain in his stomach. How long had it been without food…? Could have been a couple of days… maybe as long as a week.
Button could feel something moving between his legs. Something brushed against his fur… it felt like a towel… slightly damp. This must have been what had woken him.
A smell reached Button’s nostrils. Urine… stale urine… oh…
Button cringed. He hadn’t wet his bed at home for months now. But still, the circumstances here were rather different. He had drunk a lot of water the night before and didn’t exactly have easy access to toilet facilities.
Somehow he knew that this would anger Him, so Button began apologizing at once. “I’m s–sorry, s–sir,” Button stammered.
A voice from behind him sighed softly… the first vocalization that Button had heard from Him. Button filed the sound away in his memories… he wanted to learn more about Him — the stallion triggered Button’s curiosity. What was He like? Why was He doing this… beyond the obvious sexual thrill?
Soon He was finished clearing up Button’s mess. Button couldn’t understand the feeling of deep shame he was experiencing. He was sure that his cheeks were bright red. He kept mumbling apologies to his captor and master.
The stallion didn’t respond. Button heard His hoofsteps circle him. The next thing Button heard was a familiar swish and he automatically tensed up, even before the impact.
Button howled with pain. “I’m s–so sorry, s–sir,” he choked through tears.
His only response was another spank to Button’s sore left flank. A further eight smacks, ten in total, followed while Button cried, begged, and bargained with his master. The fear, the pain, the shame, the humiliation, the knowledge that he deserved this, deserved it for making his master clean up his vile piss… it was almost enough to blot out the feeling of hunger in his stomach.
Finally, the violence stopped. Button caught his breath, sniffed, and waited while the tears on his cheeks dried. He was doing nothing — not walking away, not torturing the young colt in any way — just waiting, it seemed. Button felt almost… content. He’d done wrong, making that mess… but he’d been punished, and now he felt… cleansed.
The next sensation Button felt was unexpected. A hoof closed on his erection… wait… since when did he get an erection? He wasn’t sure, but the feeling of that hoof on his cock was more than welcome.
Button was still only a young colt but the gamer had played with his own joystick enough to know how good it could feel. He just wasn’t sure why suddenly He was doing something… nice for Button… surely Button didn’t deserve anything nice… after the mess he’d made.
The colt felt the hoof moving slowly up and down the length of his shaft, sliding his foreskin over his glans and back down again. He shuddered and sighed, rocking his hips against the hoof, urging his new master to go faster.
The hoof tightened its grip on Button’s hard cock, pumping it firmly at a regular, steady pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down. Despite his partial dehydration and almost total starvation, Button managed to create a puddle of drool on the floor by his mouth and find the energy to hump his master’s hoof with fervid enthusiasm.
Another hoof caressed Button’s little ball sack, making Button twitch with excitement. A certain familiar tension started building up at the base of his cock — one he’d experienced on his own at home before but never at the hooves of another pony.
Button rutted the hoof with obscene carnal desire. He was stuck in this shitty dungeon or basement or whatever, and didn’t have a clue when he’d get out… if he’d get out… now he was being given this one chance at pleasure… one chance at happiness… he was going to put everything he could into it.
He bucked his hips, arching his back to press his shaft harder against the hoof. The tension inside him grew; he knew he was climbing a peak towards the release he desired. Desperate pants and moans came from his mouth; pre-cum leaked from his cock.
His master stopped holding back. Button felt the hoof increase its speed. He knew his master could read his desire on him as if he were an open book. His master was, for some reason, choosing to reward him.
His master was the only thing on his mind when he gave his final hard thrust and shot a load of cum over the still pumping hoof.
The hoof slowed down, moving lightly and gently over the length of Button’s shaft, making Button shiver at every tiny motion. His breathing became slower and less intense as he began to recover from orgasm.
Button felt the hoof wipe the rest of his cum on the fur of his flanks, then heard hoofsteps recede.
Button wondered where his master had gone.
Button felt a sense of relief when he heard hoofsteps approaching him again. The sounds circled around until they were right in front of him.
All of a sudden, he smelt the smell of delicious freshly-baked bread. Food! Though he still couldn’t see, he knew it was right in front of his face. He opened his mouth and eagerly started eating. Though it was on the floor, in a puddle of his own drool, it was bread, fresh buttered bread. It was food and it was good.
“Eat up. You’ve earned it,” came a voice… a female voice. Master must have sent a servant to feed him… maybe another captive like him — a captive that master trusted to be free from physical chains.
But Button didn’t need encouragement. Button ate.
Button woke from a dream where he and this female captive had hatched a plan and escaped. He couldn’t remember all the details but it had involved acquiring a number of 1-Up Mushrooms. He thought it unlikely that the plan would be workable in real life.
The towel was once again at work between his legs, but to Button’s shame he realized the smell was a lot worse than mere urine.
He started begging for forgiveness straight away. “Please, s–sir, I’m s–sorry, sir… it was your… your maid… she brought me food yesterday… and I’m very grateful, sir, for the food. I appreciate it. I was so hungry… I needed it. But… there’s n–no b–bathroom here, s–sir.”
Button thought he had made a good case for his defence, but wasn’t sure how forgiving this stallion was. Button heard the stallion stand up and walk away, but he soon returned.
A swish through the air heralded a firm spank to Button’s rear. The impact pushed him an inch across the floor — as far as his restraints would let him move — painfully grating his chin against the stone surface.
“Owwww!” Button cried, tears starting to roll down his cheeks almost immediately. “Please, please, sir… I’ll try harder.” He sucked in his breath, preparing for another impact.
And another impact came. And another. And another. After twenty or so smacks across his buttocks, he was sobbing uncontrollably, in too much pain to beg any longer. He was sure his flanks would be severely bruised… painful to sit on, not that he could sit with his restraints as they were anyway.
Finally, the beating stopped. But Button’s tears didn’t stop flowing. His breathing was laboured. He sniffled, trying to stop his nasal mucus running down his face.
He snapped to attention though when he felt a familiar object being placed at his anal opening. “No!” he begged, but his captor was not sympathetic.
Button squealed as the shaft stretched his opening wider than a young colt’s opening was ever designed to be opened. He whimpered, knowing that no amount of complaining could change his master’s mind.
Once the object had penetrated him deeper than he thought possible, he was surprised to feel a hoof on his cock. He was even more surprised to realize — he hadn’t noticed before — that his cock was rock hard.
The hoof rubbed his cock up and down, and the dildo or whatever it was in his plot started moving at the same rhythm.
While the object in his rear was undoubtedly uncomfortable, part of Button actually liked the feeling of fullness it gave him. The discomfort was certainly not enough to distract him from the pleasure the hoof on his shaft was giving him.
Button started bucking his hips, not only pushing against the hoof pleasuring his cock, but pushing back against the phallus in his rear, pushing it deeper inside him. His breaths started becoming laboured again, this time not because of pain and crying, but because of pleasure.
A tension started building up in his balls. He knew that his orgasm wasn’t far away. Button moaned. “F–Faster,” he begged.
His master responded, picking up speed and thrusting the object harder and faster into Button’s rear end. Button groaned in satisfaction. It wouldn’t be much longer.
The young colt thrust his hips one final time, hard against the hoof. He sighed and shuddered, allowing the tension down in his loins to be released. A squirt of cum shot out of the end of his cock and onto the stone floor below.
An exhausted Button Mash would have collapsed were it not for his restraints. He felt the phallus being slid out of his plothole and for a few moments he felt a refreshing coldness inside him as his anus gaped, allowing in fresh air.
“Th–Thank you,” he muttered, genuinely grateful for the relief his master had provided him. After what he’d done last night, the mess he’d made, he knew he didn’t deserve such pleasure. His master was clearly very forgiving.
Button heard hooves on the floor. He prepared for the inevitable throat-fucking. Though he didn’t enjoy this last time, he at least felt prepared for it this time. He wondered why his master didn’t use his own cock for this duty, instead relying on the dildo — throat-fucking the colt with an inert piece of rubber brought neither of them any physical pleasure. Button sighed inwardly as he realized the most likely explanation — his master didn’t yet consider Button to be worthy enough. Button resolved to do better this time.
Button felt something at his lips and obediently opened his mouth. However, his tongue was surprised to be greeted with a juicy red apple. Button crunched down on the food, and his master, or his master’s servant — whoever was feeding him — rotated the apple slowly, allowing him to take bite after bite of it. Juice dribbled down his chin, but Button was so grateful to have something to eat, that he didn’t even think about it. After the apple, he was given a slice of buttered bread again.
One apple and two slices of bread wasn’t a lot to eat in… how many days was it? A week, perhaps. Having finished this slice of bread, he was still hungry, but not starving. He could survive on this level of food if it kept coming.
“S–Sir…? Ma’am…? Will I get food tomorrow?” he asked into the darkness.
A female voice replied. “You get food every time you cum.”
“I—” Button started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Yes, ma’am.”
A bottle of water was held again to his lips. He drank down what he could, while a lot spilt on the floor. He knew he’d have to sleep on that patch later, but this seemed like a small thing to complain about — he was just thankful he was being given water.
Button heard hooves leaving the room and then a few moments later approaching — the same pony? He wasn’t sure how many there were — there was his master; there was the mare who had fed him, the only one he’d heard speak — maybe others serving his master too.
The hooves came to a stand-still near his rear end. Button felt a mixture of dread and excited anticipation at what might happen next.
CLANG! There was a clatter of something hollow and metal on the stone floor behind him. This was followed by a scraping sound of the same metal object being pushed along the floor.
“Piss,” said a voice. The familiar female voice.
“Wuh–uh?” Button stammered.
“You are being given an opportunity to ‘make potty’. Don’t waste it. You might not have another chance for a while.”
“Can I h—” Button didn’t finish the rest of the sentence. In his position, asking for a little privacy seemed almost comical. Instead he concentrated and soon a stream of urine was splashing into the metal bowl the mare had slid between his legs. It felt strange doing this in front of somepony else, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of choice. Better this than being beaten tomorrow.
Soon he was done, the bowl was slid out, the hoofsteps receded again, and Button was once more alone. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before falling asleep.
Button woke up. He assumed it was the next day. Again there was activity between his legs, though he was fairly sure he hadn’t disgraced himself this time. He made a mental note to thank his master for letting him use the potty the previous day.
So what was happening between his legs? He wasn’t quite sure until he felt something warm and wet envelope his cock; something with teeth; a mouth. A pair of lips, wrapped around his flaccid, but now rapidly hardening member.
Button had read about things like this in magazines — the kind of magazines he wasn’t supposed to have access to. A mare would put a stallion’s cock in her mouth and suck. Didn’t take a genius to figure out how good that would feel.
But whoever was doing it to Button seemed to be doing it wrong. They weren’t sucking; they weren’t doing anything; the mouth was just… there.
Button waited for the sucking to begin.
Nothing?
Not even some licking?
Button wasn’t sure what the owner of the mouth was thinking. He’d never be able to cum this way, and no cumming meant no food.
“P–Please… can you make me cum?” Button asked.
There was no response.
“Please, I need to cum!” he begged.
Still nothing.
An idea formed in his mind. Button drew back his hips, withdrawing his shaft almost all the way out of the mouth, then thrust them forwards. Ooh! That felt good. Better than the hoof. The owner of the mouth didn’t seem to complain.
He repeated his experiment; this time a little bit faster, a little bit harder, a little bit deeper. Still no complaints. Again, faster, harder, deeper, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt, the tip of his colt-sized cock hitting the back of the mouth.
Button thrust into that mouth over and over, harder and harder. The mouth never made any attempt to help him — there was no licking, no sucking — Button could almost believe it was a fake mouth, a realistic sex toy, if it were not for the regular warm breaths he felt on the underside of his shaft from a pair of nostrils, and the occasional involuntary swallows he felt when the head of his cock struck the back of the throat.
Soon Button could feel the approach of his orgasm, and he rode that mouth with no holding back. A few times, he heard the mare (or stallion? filly? colt? It didn’t really matter to Button) choke and gasp for air, but he didn’t let that stop him, or even slow him down. If anything, it encouraged him to ride harder, because surely that was what his master wanted — his master wanted him to cum; his master would reward him for cumming; his master wanted him to use this mouth, this throat as merely a tool to help him cum.
Button gave a final thrust of his hips, forcing his cock down the throat, and ejaculated inside with a groan. A hoof hurriedly pulled his cock out of the mouth, and he could hear a lot of coughing and spluttering from between his legs. He hadn’t really considered the effect of cumming directly into a throat. Oh well; Button just did what his master wanted — the effects of those actions were for his master to worry about, not Button.
Button lay panting on the floor, and had barely recovered his breath when another juicy apple was shoved into his mouth. A delicious apple like this deserved to be savoured and enjoyed slowly, but Button had been kept close to the point of starvation for too long to be concerned about that. He ate the apple greedily like last time.
Having finished the apple, he waited for his bread, but unexpectedly the bottle of water was held to his lips instead. Button slurped down the water, spilling a little less than last time, getting used to drinking in this unusual position.
After the water was all gone, Button nervously spoke. “Is there any bread today?”
“No,” came the response. The same female voice as before.
Button thought about asking why not, but knew he shouldn’t question his master’s wisdom. If his master wanted him dead, he would be dead. He knew his master would feed him enough to live.
But that didn’t help the rumbling in his stomach go away.
Button awoke the next morning, or at a time he assumed was the next morning. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he could sense a presence in the room. His master was there.
He sniffed the air. Good. No smell that would indicate he’d had another accident.
Hoofsteps confirmed his suspicions. His master, or one of his master’s servants was present. He wondered what treatment to expect. Another hoofjob? The dildo? Both? Button would gladly ensure whatever his master had in store for him, even though it sometimes hurt, because his master fed him and cared for him.
After a few minutes wait, Button coughed. He was sure his master would never have forgotten he was there, but a little reminder couldn't hurt. Perhaps whatever his master had planned required a lot of preparation.
A few more minutes and nothing happened. “Master?”
Hoofsteps receded.
“Master?”
Button waited patiently.
“Master?!”
His stomach rumbled.
Button woke up, his stomach in pain with hunger. He was sure his master was already there. His master liked watching him sleep, it seemed, or at least liked watching him wake up.
“Master, please? I've been a good colt. Please let me cum.”
There was no sound in response.
“You can hurt me… if you want. You can hit me.” Though if course, Button knew his master didn't require permission. He was his master’s plaything. A toy for his master’s amusement. His master could use him how he saw fit, or apparently, as yesterday, not at all.
Hoofsteps circled around him.
“Master?”
Button felt plastic by his mouth and drank greedily from the water bottle offered. Very little ended up on the floor this time. Drinking this way was normal for Button now. He had it down to a fine art.
Button heard hoofsteps leaving again. “Master?” he called. “Master?! Master! Don't ignore me!”
Button burst into tears.
Button woke up to the familiar smell of urine and the sound of the floor being scrubbed. It was strange, but he was actually happy that he’d had an accident overnight — at least his master would be forced to give him some attention today.
Last time he’d been spanked, he’d ended up getting fucked with the dildo straight afterwards while being given a hoofjob. If that happened again, he would surely be given some food today. Even without the hoofjob, Button thought that if he really concentrated, he might be able to cum just from anal stimulation — it had certainly excited him a lot the last couple of times.
Whoever had been cleaning up Button’s mess seemed to have finished now, and Button heard hoofsteps. They weren’t heading out of the room though, but towards the corner, where Button suspected his master’s various toys were kept. The hooves returned, circling around to Button’s rear end. Button bit his lip and braced himself for what he knew was coming.
Swish! Smack! Button cried out as his flanks burned with pain. Inside though, he felt satisfied to be receiving his master’s attention, having been virtually ignored for two days.
Smack! Another impact ripped through him. His master wasn’t holding back. This was the hardest spanking he’d had yet. Only the second spank and tears were already soaking the fur of his cheek.
A third spank followed, and a fourth, each one eliciting a cry of agony from the young colt. Each whack of the paddle seemed to open up new pain pathways in his brain. Button experienced torment of kinds he’d never previously known existed.
By the tenth spank, not only was there a puddle of tears forming on the ground, but mucus was dribbling from this nose, a bubbly, sticky mess running down his face, over his lips and chin and into the tear pool beneath his face. After several minutes more crying, he sniffled while panting and trying to catch his breath.
Button hadn’t heard the hoofsteps walking away from him, but towards the end of his punishment, his senses had virtually shut down. There was no sound, no smell, no taste… just cruel torment. Because he’d heard no hoofsteps, he wasn’t even sure his master was still there — was he alone in the room already?
“Master…?” he called out hesitantly, once he was finally in a state to talk. “Master?”
His own words echoed to him off the walls.
“Master… I… I just need to cum,” he whimpered.
There was still no response.
Button started crying again, not from the physical pain he’d been put through, but from the emotional pain of being ignored by his master.
“Please master, fuck me! I’ll… I’ll do anything… just… please…” His words trailed off. What was the use? His master had already left.
Button lay slumped on the floor, crying. After he didn’t know how long, he sighed and decided to try to get some sleep.
Hoofsteps came from the corner of the room, headed towards where Button knew the door was. What? Master was here?!
“Master!” Button shouted with a new sense of urgency. “Master, fuck me! Please, fuck me!” he begged.
But it was too late. His master was gone. This whole time, his master must have been here, watching Button cry.
Tears formed in Button’s eyes again. It was a shame his master was going to miss the encore performance.
Button woke up. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he sensed it was late at night. His master wasn’t present… or didn’t seem to be. And he felt more tired than usual… a sure sign he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep yet.
For many ponies, it would be the discomfort of their bindings that would have kept them awake in Button’s situation. Collared, blindfolded, his back legs obscenely stretched apart by a spreader bar, which his front legs were also bound to, lying face-down on a cold stone floor… it was not a position that most ponies would first conjure to mind when asked to imagine comfort. But no, Button had gotten used to this position on the first night.
No, what had woken Button was hunger. Not mere every-day hunger, but an all-consuming starvation, a ravenous yearning, a tormenting ache that spread beyond his stomach to his very soul: to put it simply, he would have preferred if he’d been fed that day.
He almost wished for another spanking like the one he’d recently received… at least the pain in his flanks would distract him for a while.
After time, tiredness claimed him again, and he drifted off to sleep.
Button awoke. He was sure he couldn’t have been asleep long — he wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to sleep at all with this pain in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten for… what… four days? Five? All the days seemed to blend together, sleeping, waking, begging his master to fuck him and feed him. Wanting nothing more than a full plot hole and a full stomach.
Almost as soon as he was awake, he heard the sound of hooves walking nearby. Perhaps that had even been what had woken him to begin with. “M–Master?” he asked weakly. The hooves circled around to stand in front of him. “Master… can you…? do you think we could…? will you fuck me today?”
There was no answer for some time, and then suddenly, and most unexpectedly, Button felt a pair of hooves on his face, lifting his blindfold.
Was this it? Was… was he being rescued? Button’s heart skipped a beat.
Light streamed into his eyes, blinding him. He’d never imagined this was a well-lit room; he’d imagined it as a basement, a dungeon. But it was so bright that he could see nothing but pure white.
As his eyes began to adjust, Button started to see the logical contradictions.
Why would Button’s rescuers wait until he’d begged to cum to remove his blindfold?
Why hadn’t they untied him?
Why hadn’t they spoken, to try to reassure him?
As he pondered these questions, his eyes began to focus on a face in front of him… a familiar face… the face of a pony who had been at his school the day he was taken. School… his old life… it seemed so distant. What is her name…?
“M–Mayor Mare?!” Button stammered.
Mayor Mare works for master? No, that still didn’t make sense. Button started to piece things together… scents… sounds…voices…
“You are my master,” Button stated matter-of-factly.
Mayor Mare chuckled softly. “I normally prefer ‘mistress’, but… ‘master’… I think I like that.”
For a few moments, the two looked at each other, Button inspecting his master, his captor, for the first time, reassessing everything he’d thought he’d known about her, and Mayor Mare finally being able to look at her new toy’s pretty eyes, seeing the sparkle in the amber orbs of the colt she’d broken down and turned into her plaything.
The silence was eventually broken by Button. “M–Master…?” he asked.
“Yes?” she replied.
Button looked up pleadingly from the stone floor, his eyes like those of a dog begging for attention. “Master, please may I cum?”
The mayor smiled. Button’s eyes followed her as she walked to the corner, picking up a paddle that Button instinctively recognized as the one his flank had been beaten with several times since his arrival. Made of a dark polished wood, and about six inches wide, he may not have ever seen it before, but the paddle was as familiar to him as the back of his own hoof.
Button shuddered with anticipation, his small cock beginning to harden. “Do I need punishing, master?” he asked, giddy with the thrill of finally earning his master’s attention. Wordlessly, Mayor Mare circled around behind Button Mash. Button gritted his teeth in preparation for the pain to come.
Button’s master dragged the paddle over his bare flank heightening Button’s sense of anticipation and nervousness. Button looked back at her, his eyes still pleading for attention. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the mayor raise the paddle higher.
Swish! Smack! The paddle came down and Button’s rear end with a satisfying sting. Button sucked in air through his teeth, preparing for the next impact — an impact that didn’t come, or not for a while.
Mayor Mare knew that the most torturous part of this punishment was the wait… the dread. She stroked the flat of the paddle up and down his inner thigh. Button suppressed a giggle. How can master go from hurting me to tickling me just like that.
The mayor used her paddle to push Button’s balls to one side, and then the other, then put it between his legs to scrape its edge up and down his rock hard cock. Button shuddered as the wooden implement bumped over his medial ring. She then trailed the paddle back up to his flanks, stroking the area where the sting was beginning to fade.
She raised the paddle in the air again, striking Button in the same place, with a satisfying smacking sound that echoed off the stone walls. This time she didn’t pause between paddles, delivering several severe spanks in swift succession. Button’s squeals at each impact merged into a single long whine of pain.
Only after Button’s flank had begun to turn red under his fur did she stop. Button whimpered softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. It hurt badly, but at the same time, he was happy to have his master’s complete attention again.
A terrible thought crossed his mind. Terrible but also wonderful. He bit his lip, not knowing if he should say it. It was scary, but he knew it would make his master happy. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. “M–More please, master.”
A grin crept across the mayor’s face. “Certainly, slave.” She raised her paddle again and brought it down hard on Button’s other flank, the resulting impact sounding like the crack of a whip. Button squealed and bit his lip again. Mayor Mare followed this up with a few more spanks on the same area, each one resulting in Button’s teeth digging harder into his lip, until he wasn’t sure which end of him hurt more.
Button’s master then started to alternate between sides, ensuring that each flank was equally painful. He supposed that this kind of evenhandedness was part of what made her a good mayor.
By now, Button was sobbing. He didn’t know why he’d made that request. His master showed no signs of slowing down, but he knew it would disappoint her if he asked her to stop. He gritted his teeth, resigned to suffer whatever punishment she saw fit. She would stop when he had had the spanking he deserved.
And stop she did, throwing down her paddle with a clatter. Through watery eyes, Button watched as she walked to the corner, and grabbed hold of a rubber dildo. It had always felt so long and thick inside him, but seeing it now, it didn’t look nearly as intimidating.
The mayor walked straight past Button to the other side of the room where a bunch of leather harnesses hung from the wall. Button watched as she selected one and stepped into it, pulling it up like a pair of panties. She pressed the handle end of the dildo to the harness and then rotated it. Button heard a click sound as the strap-on dildo snapped into place.
“No, I haven't been using the harness with you so far,” Button's master told him. “I thought I'd enjoy something different today though.
She put her hooves on his back, pressing him harder against the ground. Button felt the dildo swing, hitting his inner thigh. The mayor adjusted her rubber cock, lining it up with Button's puckered plothole.
Button Mash felt the head pressing against his tight opening and tried to relax his muscles. He sucked in breath as he felt his sphincter being stretched wide by the bulbous head of the sex toy. Button let out a groan once the head was fully inside him.
He strained his neck to look back at his beautiful master who was watching intently at his little anus, and seemed to be relishing the sight of her little slave taking its girth.
The mayor kept pressing forward, the shaft of the dildo pushing deeper inside Button. Each inch it went in generated new sensations — different combinations of pleasure, pain, discomfort, and excitement.
At about three quarters of the way in, it wouldn’t slide any deeper, and she had to stop. At this point, a gentle lover would give her partner a bit of time to adjust to the large new mass in his colon. But Mayor Mare was not a gentle lover, she was Button’s master; and Button was not her partner, he was her plaything. So she started thrusting into his plothole hard and fast.
But after a couple of weeks of practice, Button was prepared for this. Indeed, feeling filled up by his master gave him a sense of satisfaction. His little cock was throbbing and he wished he could reach under and rub, but his hooves were still bound awkwardly between his back legs and there was nothing he could do.
He wished his master would reach around and take care of it for him, as she had before, but Button figured that she wouldn’t take kindly to Button telling her what to do. I should trust my master’s decisions.
The mare kept ploughing into Button’s rear entrance mercilessly. A stallion, using a cock, an organ with nerves, would feel the friction and Button’s tightness, and instinctively go slower. But the inanimate rubber dildo did not convey these feelings to Mayor Mare, and she fucked Button without mercy.
Button grunted with every inwards motion of the rubber shaft. His face rubbed against the floor as the power behind each thrust moved his whole body. He was gritting his teeth to stop himself from crying out with… Button wasn’t even sure what he’d be crying out with… pain? …pleasure?
The young colt started to become accustomed to the dildo, his opening relaxing and allowing the toy to slide a little deeper. The more painful and uncomfortable aspects of being penetrated began to fade, allowing him to concentrate more on the pleasurable side — his plothole being stretched wide open; his colon feeling full; the underside of the shaft rubbing against his prostate gland.
He started to push back against the thrusts, his own movements complementing his master’s, getting the shaft still deeper inside him. His groans of discomfort became moans of pleasure.
Occasionally straining his neck to look back at his master, and judging by the lewd expression on her face, Button could see she was enjoying the action herself. He figured that the dildo must be pressing pretty firmly against her mare parts, grinding against them with each thrust, and providing her with a bit of stimulation herself. He hoped his master was enjoying herself as much as he was. She deserved some pleasure.
As suddenly as it had started, Button felt the dildo pulled out of him. For a few moments, cool air penetrated Button as his anus gaped, then it closed with a slight squelching sound. Though the pegging was an activity that was unlikely to either of their orgasm, so didn’t have a natural time to finish, Button was surprised by its sudden cessation. He looked back to see his master removing the harness, revealing her mareparts, the fur around them already soaked with her juices. Button instinctively licked his lips at the sight.
His master bent down out of Button’s sight and the colt heard the rip of Velcro. His front legs were free! He shakily got up onto all four hooves, his face and chest coming up off the floor for the first time in what must have been about two weeks. His skin tingled where it had been pressed against the ground. He rubbed his chest with one hoof, getting the circulation going again.
“Lick, slave!” came his master’s voice, snapping him back to reality. Mayor Mare was lying on her back in front of him, her rear legs spread eagled, her glistening pussy pointed at his face.
“Yes, master,” Button replied. A little voice in the back of his head asked, why? Why obey her? Your front hooves are free. You could unfasten your back hooves and make a run for it. Why are you staying and obeying? Button quickly stamped out the voice. His master was good to him. His master treated him how he deserved. His master would surely feed him well tonight.
Button obediently bent down and ran his tongue over his master’s pussy. He’d never tasted a pussy before and didn’t quite know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised by her salty yet sweet flavour. Mayor Mare let out a low moan and stroked his mane with one hoof. Encouraged by her sounds of pleasure, and her pleasing taste, Button continued licking, running his tongue up and down her pink pussy lips.
“That’s it, little colt,” the mayor purred, putting her hoof on the back of Button’s head and drawing him in closer. “Now suck on my clit.”
Button raised his head and looked at her, somewhat confused. He’d heard of this clit thing before, but didn’t know what it was or where it was.
“You don’t know what a clit is?” the mayor asked.
Button shook his head shamefully. “Teach me, master,” he requested, looking up at her.
The mayor guided his head to her throbbing clit. “Suck it, slave colt,” she ordered.
Button Mash wrapped his lips around the engorged button and Mayor Mare moaned in pleasure. He suckled gently on the little nubbin protruding from the top of his master’s pussy. She stroked the back of his head affectionately, running her hoof through his mane.
The colt sucked harder and massaged the tip of her clit with his tongue. His master’s happy groans made him proud. He’d never been thought of as a clever colt at school — had trouble paying attention to things in class — but he’d always thought of himself as a quick learner, and he seemed to be learning how to orally pleasure a mare pretty quickly. Life with a master who appreciated his talents just seemed better than his old life.
Button’s cock was throbbing. He’d never been as excited in his life. With his front hooves now free, it would not be hard for him to reach down and take care of matters, but he resisted. Master knew best.
Mayor Mare held his head, pulling it towards her, pushing his muzzle harder against her pussy. Button struggled slightly to breathe but managed to draw air through the side of his mouth. After a few moments, she pushed his head down a little and her clit slipped out of his mouth. “Stick your tongue inside me,” she commanded.
Button obeyed immediately. His tongue shot out of his mouth, entering her warm, wet foalhole. She moaned in pleasure, pushing her hips forward slightly to bury his tongue a little deeper. Knowing that movement was important for sexual pleasure, he started moving his tongue in and out of her passage, fucking her with it. “Good little colt,” she purred, still holding the back of his head tightly against her crotch.
The mayor started rocking her hips rhythmically, bucking gently against Button’s face. The grip on his mane became tighter as she panted louder. Button instinctively understood that she was getting closer to her climax.
Button’s master’s back legs quivered and she groaned, releasing a small stream of juices into his waiting mouth. Button greedily lapped the remnants of her mare cum from her pussy, each flick of his tongue on her sensitive parts now causing her to shiver and whine.
After a few moments, she pushed his head away. “That’s enough,” she muttered, still catching her breath. Button stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.
The mare rolled onto her front and got up on all fours. She circled around to behind Button and unfastened the restraints on his rear legs. Button stole a quick look at the open door. There was still a part of him urging him to gallop out as fast as his legs could carry him, but a greater part of him needed to stay… to stay with his master.
The mayor walked back to her place in front of Button, and then lay on the floor on her belly. She parted her back legs and raised her tail, exposing her pink pussy which was still slick with her slave’s saliva. “Fuck me, slave,” she ordered.
Button gulped. This was not how he had imagined losing his virginity. Maybe Sweetie Belle? He stepped up to his master, putting his forehooves on her back. His rock-hard cock brushed against her inner thigh and he tensed up.
He aimed his erection at his master’s slick pussy, and thrust forward, but his targeting was off and he just jabbed her in the flank. He tried again but aimed too low, his shaft brushing against her pussy lips, causing her to shudder. After a third attempt which almost went in the wrong hole, Mayor Mare reached behind herself in frustration, guiding Button’s cock into her depths.
Button slid into his master’s pussy, a welcome sensation of warmth surrounding his cock. Losing his virginity, with such an… an awesome mare… was more than he could have hoped for. His cock throbbed and he knew he was already close to breaking point.
“Fuck me then,” the mayor demanded impatiently.
The colt regained his senses and started thrusting his hips, even though he knew that this was only going to hasten his inevitable shamefully early climax. The rippling folds inside the mayor’s silken passage massaged his shaft in ways a hoof could never compete with. The muscles inside her almost seemed to be milking him. The slick, smooth surface of her sex was something he hadn’t imagined. Would Sweetie have felt so good? No, nobody could compete with master.
He had barely managed more than ten thrusts when the dam inside him that he was trying so hard to keep shut burst open. He shuddered and groaned, ejaculating his seed inside her. It had been several days since he’d last cum, so he filled his master’s pussy with a quantity that was quite impressive for a colt his age; quite impressive for a full grown stallion in fact. He thrust hard again, his now ultra-sensitive cock, displacing some of the cum so that it leaked out of the mayor’s pussy, dripping onto the floor.
After a few more thrusts, each one draining him, but rewarding him with pleasure even greater than the last, he could continue no longer and rolled off his master’s back onto the stone floor, panting with an enormous grin. “I came, master,” he said, once he was finally able to talk.
“I noticed,” she chuckled.
Suddenly shame descended upon him. He’d cum, but his master hadn’t. He was a bad slave. “I… I’m sorry master… I should have—”
“Don’t worry about it, Button,” said the mayor, smiling. “It was your first time.”
“But—”
“No buts. You did well. We’ve barely even started your training,” the mayor explained.
Button lay there for a moment allowing that to sink in. “Training?”
“To be my perfect cum slut,” his master said.
“Oh.” Button lay there for a while longer. “I came, so…” he allowed his sentence to trail off.
“Yes,” said the mayor, struggling to her feet. “I’ll get you some food.” She sauntered out of the room, and Button could see some of his cum trailing down her back leg.
Button stared at the open door. He wondered where that little voice in his head had gone. It was silent.
Soon the mayor came back with a bowl of stew and some bread. She sat and watched while Button feasted, his tummy truly sated for the first time in weeks. When he was done, she cleared away the dishes and cutlery, and patted Button on the head before leaving.
Button looked at the open door again. He looked around his new bedroom.
He yawned, exhausted after a hard day’s slave work. He curled up on the floor, trying to get to sleep.
It was so uncomfortable.
In the dim light, Button noticed his spreader bar and trotted over to it. Button inspected the Velcro fastenings. Bending over, he fastened his back legs to the ends of the bar, then with a little difficulty, his front legs to the central cuffs. He slumped over, his face pressed against the cold stone floor, yawning again.
Button woke up.
