Pinkie Pie's Painful Paternal Pounding
While Everypony's Sleeping...
“Goodnight, Limestone. Goodnight, Marble.”
“Night, Dad," replied Limestone's sharp little voice. Marble merely murmured "Goodnight..." back
Pinkie Pie could hear her father’s voice down the hall as he said goodnight to her younger sisters. She trembled a little as she heard him travelling down the hallway towards her.
“Goodnight, Maud,” he said dully, the way he did every night.
“Goodnight, father,” Maud responded in her own monotone. And then it was Pinkie’s turn.
She couldn’t help but flinch slightly as her father nosed open her bedroom door, looking her over appraisingly. Even under the covers, she knew he was picturing her chubby little body, naked as a jaybird. She’d have said he was imagining what he could do to her, but she didn’t think her father ever imagined anything.
“Goodnight, Pinkie,” he said in a clear, loud voice. And then, instead of leaving, he stepped further into the room.
“N-night, Dad,” Pinkie said, with a forced smile. This part was all a show. Igneous had reached her bed now, and he leaned down to talk quietly.
“I expect you in the barn in 10 minutes. Do not wake your sisters,” he said gruffly. And then he turned, leaving, without even a kiss on her cheek.
Figures. Dad never was one for mushy stuff.
Pinkie gulped and stared at the ceiling, listening to the clock in the hall tick-tick-ticking. One minute passed. Then another. Then a third minute. Pinkie decided to try remembering all the good parts of the day - it wasn’t /all/ bad…
She remembered rotating the rocks in the west field with Maud, and how they’d both laughed ‘til they cried when Pinkie Pie had accidentally sent one careening down a hill. Well, Pinkie had laughed a lot. Maud had smiled, perhaps.
Six minutes had passed.
Pinkie remembered how Marble had asked her, shy as ever, to help her braid her hair - and how she’d left that strand hanging down on the side of her face all day. Her heart swelled with pride - her baby sister was so cute!
Eight minutes. That was long enough.
Pinkie felt the knot in her guts twist. She didn’t want to get up out of her bed. She didn’t want to go to the barn and let her father violate her again. But she didn’t have a choice.
Slowly, as stealthily as she could, she rolled out of bed, and walked cautiously out of her room, down the hall, and out the front door.
Of course, by the time she’d arrived, her father was already there waiting. He nodded without even a hint of a smile as she walked in, her slow gait showing her reluctance.
“Close the door behind you, Pinkamena,” he instructed her. And Pinkie, slowly, sadly, did just that. She hesitated a moment - and then, pulled the heavy bolt across, so nobody else could get in. Now it was just him and her in here.
Pinkie had fantasized, once, a long time ago, that if her mother knew what was going on, she might stop it. She was too scared to tell her outright, but there was one evening where her father was too distracted to notice the barn door wasn’t fully closed, too occupied in his inappropriate liaison to realise his wife was opening the door, trying to find the source of the noises she heard.
“Oh!” she’d gasped. And for a few seconds, everything had been tense silence - Cloudy Quartz staring, red-cheeked, at the sight of her husband hunched over his child, his member half-embedded under her tail, while big wet tears dripped down her face. She looked from Pinkie, to Igneous, to the door, and then shook her head as if to clear it from a bad dream, before leaving.
Igneous had resumed his thrusts soon after, and came violently inside his daughter. He was even less talkative as he led Pinkie back to the house, and when Pinkie woke up early, she found he was sleeping on the sofa. Some part of her was glad, hopeful - maybe Mom would put her hoof down and she’d never have to endure another rape.
Mom had woken up shortly afterwards, and set the breakfast table for three, pouring orange juice into Pinkie’s glass, wordlessly serving them both oatmeal. Pinkie and her father shared an almost-guilty glance, neither of them sure what was going to happen. They ate their breakfast in silence, before any of the others woke up.
It was only towards the end of the meal, when Pinkie was clearing the table, that her mother spoke at all.
“Oh, by the way. What I walked in on last night…”
Pinkie and Igneous had both frozen, and Cloudy Quartz had gone pink again.
“Next time, please lock the barn door.”
Pinkie could see that her mother was looking directly at Igneous, not at her. Her expression was part contempt, part sadness, a scowl on the very edge of her lips, but her eyes remained cold and passionless, like she was reminding him of a chore left undone. Pinkie Pie deflated. Her mother knew. And she didn’t care. She wouldn’t stop it.
“My deepest apologies, Quartz. Won’t happen again,” her father rumbled, as he stood up from the breakfast table.
Pinkie’s mother nodded curtly - and then that was it. Over. Pinkie’s hopes were shattered. Nobody would stop her father, not until she left the farm.
Back in the present day, Pinkie’s heart thumped in her hooves as she slowly trudged just to the centre of the barn. With hesitation mixed with the practiced ease of years of forcing herself to do this, she flicked her tail as she spread her legs slightly, giving her father a clear view of her her pretty pink pony pie.
The snort he gave told her she was doing it right, as if she had any doubts. She gasped as she felt her father bring his weight down on her back, his front hooves clasping her withers rather than her hips, her smaller body making the mating awkward by necessity.
The first time he did this, Pinkie had been much smaller. He’d spread her legs himself, and forced her to hold that pose while he hunched over her. His larger body had completely covered hers, her head only just reaching his chest, as he awkwardly pressed lower and lower, angling his length to her virgin cunny.
Pinkie had screamed, that first time, and her father had forced her muzzle-first into the dirt, spitting ‘be quiet!’... Pinkie didn’t need to be told twice. She cried, she whimpered, she even yelped on occasion, but from then on she never screamed again, even when it hurt so, so badly.
Now, Pinkie could almost sense her father’s cockhead getting closer before it was there. The fat, slimy head abruptly pressed against her folds and she muffled a whimper as it began to enter her. It was much easier than when she was littler, but it still hurt, her body rebelling, squeezing trying to push him out.
Igneous grunted as he pushed deeper into her vice-like pussy. He slid inside in one fluid motion, slow, but steady, spreading her open and invading her most private area. She was dry, that much he could tell, and the friction of her skin on his made him grit his teeth with pleasure.
“Ow,” Pinkie said, biting her lip to quiet herself. The burning pain between her legs grew and grew as she was forced to take more of her father’s cock, feeling like she was being torn open in a horribly familiar way. His hips pushed forwards suddenly, and she gave a choked sob, feeling that he’d hilted in her.
A few of the tears welling in her eyes dropped to the floor. She tried to will herself to pretend she was somewhere else, anywhere but here, but all she could focus on was the weight of her father on her back, and the insistent ache between her thighs she couldn’t escape from.
Igneous snorted as he smoothly pulled his hips back. His daughter felt exquisite around his length, and now she was lightly stretched and lubricated, he could move a little more freely. Wasting no time, he quickly shoved himself back inside, feeling Pinkie clench around him, her unwilling cunny spasming with pain at each slow thrust.
His daughter was a good, obedient girl, and decent at sating her Daddy’s desires. He gripped her shaking form more firmly as he slid back out again, pushing himself back in much quicker now, to the sound of a pained, desperate sob from Pinkie. She always cried when he mated her, but that wasn’t his concern. It would be over soon enough, and he had his own pleasure to focus on.
Pinkie could feel the tears flowing freely now, her face a mask of shame and agony. Her father’s breathing was heavy above her, and she jerked away with each thrust, each fluid movement of his hips burying his unwanted cock inside her. She shuddered with disgust and pain, biting down hard on her lip, the stinging doing nothing to distract her from the greater pain in her private places.
“Mm.. mm...mm!” she whimpered through her bitten lip, not out of pleasure, just trying to keep the yelps and cries inside. The only noises were the sounds of wet flesh on flesh and her tiny sounds of protest. Pinkie let her head hang low, tears splattering on the floor like raindrops, hoping the end would come soon.
Her thighs were aching from the position she was in, and her cunny felt so small, too small to take her father this way. It was too big, too much, as always, and so Pinkie awkwardly shuffled her hooves further apart, just hoping to make everything feel a bit less tight.
Igneous took full advantage of her repositioning, baring his teeth as he moved his hips with further aplomb, grunting more enthusiastically with every movement. He pulled right back, so only his cockhead was inside, straining against Pinkie’s walls, trapped like a cork in a bottle, prying her uncomfortably open. He felt her shudder in pain.
When Pinkie’s father slammed forwards again, the rest of his cock went in far smoother, stretching Pinkie everywhere inside suddenly, so the air was knocked out of her lungs. She gave a cry of pain and then closed her mouth again. From his own perspective Igneous felt his aching stiffness being enclosed and massaged by her squeezing walls, spasming with the pain of her violation.
He didn’t give her time to relax, his hips swinging back with a dull squelch that spoke only of his own excitement.
“Ahh!” Pinkie moaned, her ears back in distress as her father continued, those smooth motions turning into a barrage of thrusts as his plump pink pony princess was so thoroughly pounded. She was squeezing frantically on his length, like her vagina was a tube of over-stuffed toothpaste she was trying desperately to empty. But no matter how her private parts clamped and tried to force him back out, her father was stronger, and would not be denied.
Igneous whinnied, sweat beading on his head as he gripped Pinkie’s shaking, sobbing form tightly, using her like little more than a cheap sex toy. His hips were working fast and steady now, plugging her up over and over with unwanted stallioncock. Her cunny felt like a fist wrapped in velvet, tightness gripping him all the way down his length.
Pinkie cried quietly underneath him, occasionally mouthing a soft ‘ohhh!’. There was nothing to feel or think about except her father’s rocking hips, pushing and pulling his hefty member inside her constricting pussy. She could hear him panting, feel his tight balls slap her stomach repetitively, each one closer than the last as he approached his peak. She made a noise between a whine and a murmur, sniffling, almost numb to the feeling of being stretched and violated, but knowing the worst was yet to come. Her father’s final defilement.
Igneous’ climax was always a distressing experience, not least because he insisted on finishing inside her. The first time had been a whirlwind of pain and fear - more fear, since she didn’t understand at all what was happening - and then, suddenly, there was liquid gushing inside her, like a hosepipe turned up full blast. She’d gasped, too shocked to cry out, as her father’s throbbing organ spewed cum, every nook and cranny of her horribly-stretched filly cunny being drenched in the liquid as he held her firm, snorting with relief. She’d felt bile in her throat, she’d felt so sick, drool filling her mouth as she heaved a little, feeling with incredible, vomit-inducing detail the sensation of her own father filling her with his incestuous seed before she was even old enough to know what it was.
There had been so much and she’d been so little. His fat cock, stretching her so wide, had plugged her like a cork in a bottle and after a while she began to squirm and whimper, feeling a sickening pressure as a seemingly never-ending volume of that alien fluid filled her. Fortunately, her father felt that discomfort from his own perspective, and he slid his hips back a few inches. Fluid had dribbled back over his length, painting Pinkie’s thighs, leaving them sticky with the mark of Daddy’s perverted ‘love’. He’d squirted once, twice, three times more… and then with no fanfare he’d yanked his flare out, making his daughter yelp with shock.
“Go back to bed, Pinkamena,” her father had said, after brushing aside her tail to see the condition her hole was in. Deeming it acceptable, he pushed her towards the barn door.
“D-Daddy…” Pinkie had stuttered, her face still a mess of tears and snot. “What was th-”
“Go to bed, Pinkamena,” her father repeated, more gruffly this time.
And so she had. She’d gone to her room, walking gingerly but occasionally wincing still, and then she’d collapsed onto her bed, burying her pink face into the pillow and sobbing her heart out over what had happened. The place between her legs had leaked too, blood and cum dribbling over the sheets as she cried and then when she slept. She’d had to change them when she woke.
Now Pinkamena understood exactly what the fluid was. It made little fillies and colts inside mares. She was too young to get pregnant yet. Would her Daddy stop once she got that old? Or would he not care… She shivered at the thought.
But there was no time for thinking, not right now. Her father’s thrusts had been getting more erratic and desperate for some time, and suddenly she felt it, his flare expanding hard inside her already abused passage.
“Ooooo…” she groaned wobbily, and she heard Igneous’ whinny, the only warning she would get, before his thickness throbbed inside her. His hooves bit into her sides as he squeezed her more firmly than ever, firing his spunk inside her. She counted each load.
One. She jerked. No matter how she braced herself it always felt like a special, extra violation.
Two.
Three. He moved his hips slightly as he emptied his balls. She felt his flare being shoved back and forth, gritting her teeth at the churning of cum inside her.
Four.
Five. Six. His spurts were losing power now.
Seven. Nearly done.
Eight. There was already so much liquid inside her she could only tell he’d added more because her sensitive walls had felt his hardness throb. She hated she could recognize that.
He was done. Like most male horses, he waited a moment before pulling out. He rested most of his weight on her, and she could feel his heartbeat pounding, slowing gradually, as he got his breath back. This was one of the worst times. There was no extra pain, no insistent shoving, no voluminous issue of fluid to distract her. Just her father on her back, his cock stuffed inside her and his cum deeper still, and the silence of the barn.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, he pulled out, his slimy length leaving her well-used hole with little fanfare. When he moved his hooves back, she could feel bruises forming there, where he’d held her in place. She wondered if her family would notice. Or care.
She felt a hoof on her rump, pushing her towards the door.
“Go to bed, Pinkamena,” Igneous grumbled again.
So she did.
The End
