Trapped Lightningby Cocknie ThugChaptersPackedInductionResistancePackedTwo beers cracked open. Pigpen cradled his in his hoof, and took a swig. "Good to see you again, Thunderlane." "You too, bro. Thanks for coming." "Hmmfff!" "So what's the problem? Looks like you're all set." "I want a blowjob." "Hffhmmfffff!" "Don't we all, bro, don't we all. You need a ring gag?" "Eh, see, I got a ring gag, but I kinda want a real blowjob, y'know? I want to see her put some love into it, not just lay back while I use her throat like a cunt." "I get ya. It's not the same." "Yeah, no lips, no effort, not knowing that she's got a choice..." "HMMFFFFFF!" Thunderlane sighed, walked forward, and smacked the bound mare on the side of the head. His hoof rang out and she teetered in her shackles. turquoise wings straining against her bonds, her orange mane plastered to her forehead with sweat. She sucked in breath through her nose as she glared at her two captors with utter loathing, her mouth blocked with a bright-red ball gag. Pigpen chuckled. "She's a noisy one. How'd you get her?" "A bunch of boring shit. I got blackmail dirt on her favourite cousin, told her we could work something out. I think she thought I wanted a fuck and a lapdance or some shit. She didn't think I'd drug her orange juice. She's got two weeks leave from her weather team, so I've kept her in the shed for the last few days." "Hah! Dumb bitch." "Yeah. She whines a lot and keeps acting all stuck up. Threatened to bite me if I stuck my dick in her mouth. Standard whore stuff, y'know?" "Yeah, I know. So, what'dya need from me?" "Well, for one thing, you're pretty good at persuading whores to 'see things your way' if you know what I mean..." "And?" Thunderlane smirked. "And if you can make her suck your dick, she'll suck any dick. No offence..." "Hah!" Pigpen walked over to the bound mare, brushing his greasy mane out of his eyes as he inspected her. Her wings were bound to her side, all four of her hooves were held in manacles, and her whole coat was damp with sweat. Her nose wrinkled as he passed in front of her. He couldn't blame her. It had been a week since he'd last showered, after all. "Okay, I know what she needs," said Pigpen, "gimme three days, and I'll have her eating outta the palm of your hoof, among other places. In fact, get your rocks off now if you're still horny, this lil' slut is gonna be indisposed..." Thunderlane walked round the back of the mare, pushed his face under her orange-yellow tail, and took a heady sniff. "You hear that, Lightning Dust?" he said, as he placed his forehooves on her flanks, "You're gonna learn how to please a stallion." Lightning Dust shrieked into her gag as Thunderlane's cock pushed into her cunt. She looked forward to see his filthy friend standing in front of her, masturbating furiously with his cock aimed at her face. The stench was incredible. Her heart sunk as the first rope of scummy, sticky jizz hit her cheek. This would be a long week, for sure... Thunderlane stood back and admired Lightning Dust. Her whole body shook with rage and disgust as thick, sticky cum ran down her thighs at one end and down her face at the other. She scrunched her eyes shut to avoid getting any of the garbage pony's foul jizz in them, and her nostrils twitched as the cooling, salty goo slid slowly down the bridge of her nose. "C'mere and gimme a hand," said Pigpen, as he rooted through his supplies. "Sure thing. Whaddya need?" "First thing, stick this on her neck." Thunderlane eyed the strange collar. It was made from dark leather, with a set of inlaid and obviously magical gems dotted throughout. "What's it for?" he asked, testing its weight in his hoof. "A thing I had made. It'll monitor her vital signs and give her just enough air to keep breathing. When's the last time she had anything to drink?" "I left her with a doggy bowl of water last night." He walked over to Lightning Dust and clipped on the collar, to muted protests. "I'm pretty sure she drank it all." "Good, good." Pigpen walked behind the bound mare, carrying a canvas bag. He pulled an imposingly thick dildo from it, flared at the end like a horse cock, made of hard plastic. She yelped as he pressed the head against her cunt. "She - still tries to - fight - it!" he muttered, twisting the toy clockwise and anticlockwise as he forced it inwards. He was rewarded with a moan of pure humiliation as the thick head slipped inside her. "Yeah, she's pretty dumb like that," said Thunderlane. "I told her it'll only hurt more if she tenses up, but she doesn't listen. I don't think she really likes stallions, y'know?" Pigpen didn't respond. Instead, he shoved the dildo in further, displacing a splash of jizz from deep inside her. After a minute of further pushing, the fake plastic balls of the toy rested against her clit. "One more hole to go..." He held up a buttplug as thick as a cooking apple, drizzled it with a generous helping of lube, and lifted Lightning Dust's tail. She tensed up, utterly silent, as the soft, pointed tip of the plug pressed into her ass. Thunderlane watched with a smirk as his vile friend forced the second toy inside her, marvelling as her asshole spread further and further to swallow up the dark plastic. The screaming really started at the six-inch-thick mark. When it reached the thickest point, both stallions were glad that the shed was soundproofed, gag or no gag. Once it was all the way in, she began to cry. Pigpen took a ring gag from his bag of goodies, sat back, and rubbed the metal ring over his sweaty, unwashed ballsack. He then switched out the ball gag for the new one as Thunderlane held her mane in place, too fast for her to shout or protest. She squinted at him with fear and loathing, trying to keep the sticky cum out of her eyes, dread growing in her stomach as he stood up on two legs and approached her with his half-hard cock. It smelled foul. She had never found stallions attractive, and thought male genitalia seemed unpleasant at the best of times, but Pigpen's cock and balls were a new level of awfulness. The sweat and musky stink alone were bad enough, but Pigpen went beyond that, not just unwashed but actively dirty. She could see sticky patches of half-dried cum, matted fur at the base, spilled food, wiry, greasy pubic hairs, and grey, vinegary crud near the bottom where he hadn't washed his sheath. Her nostrils filled with the stench of piss, week-old garbage cans, rotten fish, dog food, and cigarette smoke. She could practically taste it. His cock twitched to hardness, and a bead of cloudy precum swelled up on the tip. Lightning Dust swallowed, despite herself. "Doing you a favour here, bitch," said Pigpen. "I'm cleaning you off before your training starts..." Lightning Dust froze in horror as his cock touched her cheek, wiping away a streak of the cum he had left there before. Her eyes went wide as he pushed his cock into her mouth, cleaning off his jizz on her tongue. She was too stunned to throw up. He tasted of sour milk, and all she could smell was bleach and eggs. Thunderlane was beside himself with laughter as he watched his stuck-up teammate being force-fed jizz from an unclean cock. Once Pigpen had scraped away all the jizz he could from her face, he stood closer, and pushed his sweaty balls against her face. She tried to turn away, and when he held her head in place, withdrew her tongue all the way to avoid tasting them. "Listen bitch," said Pigpen, "you've got a choice. You can lick my balls, or I'm gonna fuck your mouth until I cum again. You'll swallow all my jizz, and if you try throw it up, I'll force-feed it to you through your nose. You understand? Do I need - ahhh..." Pigpen's glare melted into a dazed grin as her tongue flitted out, tasting sweat, musk, and unwashed ballsack. Maybe there was hope for this slut after all... After rubbing his spit-slicked balls dry, Pigpen walked round the side of Lightning Dust, grinning to himself as she tried to spit the vile taste out of her mouth. The ring gag made that task difficult, and she only succeeded in covering her chin with drool. He placed a hoof on her side, gave it a testing wiggle, and then shoved her over. He burst out laughing as she toppled, cursing in pain as her head hit the floorboards. She squirmed, her bound wing in pain from where she had landed on it. Before she could regain her bearings, he was on top of her. First, he removed the shackle from her right forehoof, folded her leg at the joint, and slipped a specially-made sleeve over it. Once tightened, she could only wiggle her half-limb. He did this for her back leg, and then attached a D-ring to a slot at the elbow and knee of each sleeve. With a carabiner he clipped the two D-rings together, compressing her body, forcing the ends of her two half-limbs to touch. He rolled her over, did the same thing to her left legs, and rolled her onto her back. She looked up at him with the wild eyes of a cornered animal. As nice as the view was, he wanted a different one, so her sat on her face, looking down her body. She squealed as his balls flopped into her ring-gagged mouth for the second time and his ass-crack enveloped her face, but cut it short. Being curled up made her lungs ache with effort, squeezing out the air and limiting every breath. She had wasted half her air on that squeal, and with her mouth filled, the next breath she took would be sucked into her nose through Pigpen's sweaty, fetid ass-crack. Pigpen paid little attention to the snuffles and struggles below him. He tied a band around the base of her tail, and secured a length of sturdy twine to it. After giving the dildos in her rear holes a few hard slaps and enjoying the rage-filled snorts and struggles of his 'seat,' he took the twine and fed it through a D-ring on her enchanted collar. He started to pull it through. Her lower back rose off the ground as the twine pulled her rump towards her neck. Then, he stood up, and really started to shorten the twine. After several more pulls, she tried screaming. A few pulls after that, she stopped. She couldn't scream. She couldn't even whimper. The bondage had her rolled up like a pill-bug. There was only room in her chest for an eighth of a breath, and each one of those had to be yanked in and barred from leaving. Her legs and wings were useless, black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and her muzzle was an inch away from the thick, hard dildo stuffed deep in her cunt. Something warm dribbled off her brow, making her shut her eye. Thunderlane had walked over and casually spat in her face. He didn't even look down at her. "Neato," said Thunderlane. "How long you keeping her like this for?" Pigpen rooted around in his bag. "Oh, we're not done yet. Hell, I've barely gotten started. I'm just making her... easy to transport." He pulled out a square yard of sack-cloth fabric, placed a dish sponge in the center, and folded the cloth square over. With some more twine, he bound up the sponge in a small ball of the cloth, with the sponge on one side of the knot and the mass of the rest of the cloth flopping out of the other side. "This, my friend, is the fun part." Lightning Dust could make no sound as the cloth-covered sponge was forced into her mouth. The rest of the rough fabric was pulled back over her head, completely robbing her of sight. She felt the jerky motions of him tying it off at the back, completing her blackout hood. Her breath warmed the inside of the hood as she exhaled. When she inhaled, the cloth stuck to her nostrils. There were no air holes. She was going to suffocate. She thrashed frantically, moving her body less than an inch for her efforts. She couldn't cry out. Though she could pull air through the roughly-woven fabric, it just wasn't enough. The bondage alone was slowly smothering her, waiting for her to tire. The hood sped everything up. Even blinded, she could feel the room spinning, spots of white in the blackness. She knew from training that she didn't have long. In fifteen seconds she'd pass out. Her pulse was a snare drum behind her eyes. Ten seconds. Spikes lined her ribcage. Five seconds. Mind blotting out like a film reel on a hot plate. One second. No seconds. She was still awake. Still in pain. Still about to pass out. Another ten seconds passed. She remembered the collar. A life support system. Just enough oxygen to stop her from passing out. They wouldn't let her breathe, and they wouldn't let her sleep. The hood grew wet with her tears. Pigpen and Thunderlane watched the show with detached amusement. Her struggles faded as her breathing grew weaker, and kicked back in when the collar infused her with enough magic to keep her awake. She made no sound and could only twitch. In all the sleeves and sack-cloth, she barely looked like a pony at all. Pigpen took out a canvas bag, just big enough for the folded-up mare, and laid it out next to her. "Gimme a hoof with this, will ya?" The two stallions lifted her in, pulling the sides of the bag up around her. Pigpen zipped it up halfway. Her hooded head could be seen inside. "I'm gonna take her for a ride on the wagon today, get her nice and limbered up for a training session later. She's almost ready." "Wait, she's still not ready? She's in the bag, dude, what else is left to do to her?" Pigpen grinned at him, stood next to the bag, and aimed his soft cock at the opening. "You know I left a sponge in her mouth for a reason, right?" With a laugh, Thunderlane took his place on the other side of the bag and aimed his own dick downwards. Two jets of piss flowed out, splattering directly on Lightning Dust's head, soaking into the coarse hood. Lightning Dust felt the wetness spread, but she had no idea what was happening until the cloth soaked through at the edges of her ring gag, each gasp of air now tainted with the musky stench of urine. It soaked through into her mouth. She struggled in a new panic, but the thrashing of her tongue squished the sponge, drawing fresh piss into it, releasing a fresh burst every time she moved it. Wet, humid heat prickled her skin, and she realized with growing dread that this wringing-wet hood would only grow less comfortable... Thunderlane looked down at the defiled mare. Her head was drenched, but so was the rest of her body. Most of the piss had settled in the bottom of the semi-waterproof bag, and was only seeping out a few drops at a time. She'd be soaking in it for a while, he mused. "Now," said Pigpen, zipping up the bag and hiding the mare entirely from view, "this bitch is ready. See you in three days, pal!" InductionPigpen took no particular care as he tossed the heavy, piss-dripping bag onto the flatbed of his compost wagon - the suspension was excellent, and he could be far rougher on his vehicle without damaging it. As expected, he didn't even hear a squeak from his captive, and the bag barely twitched. He grinned. It was about to get significantly less pleasant for her. Sunrise was in an hour, and his deliveries began half an hour before that. He wheeled the wagon out of his shed and moved it to his silo, where the magic happened: the giant column of biodegradable garbage that was the basis for the most desirable compost in all of Ponyville. A huge funnel jutted out of the sheet-metal cylinder, pointing down at the bed of his wagon. He pulled a lever, and watched with amusement as a deluge of steaming-hot compost tumbled out to bury Lightning Dust entirely. The lever clicked back into place, shutting off after dispensing the day's amount. The arrogant Pegasus was now surrounded by a literal ton of garbage. He chuckled to himself as he hitched up to the wagon and began to cart it towards his customers. First, she'd feel the pressure, all that weight bearing down on top of her, pressing her body into the hard floorboards of the wagon. Then the heat, the steaming warmth of organic material being broken down, flowing into her bag, stopping her from cooling down even a little bit. The thirst would set in, and the heat would grow worse, prickling and stifling, drawing out sweat that she could not afford to lose. She'd suck the piss-soaked sponge just for a desperate gulp of liquid, until the nausea made her try to expel it all. Only the magic of the collar would stop her from suffocating entirely. All that would happen within an hour. She'd be buried under there for his whole eight-hour shift. He couldn't wait to get home... Lightning Dust woke up. She was too hot, like her whole body was wrapped in electric blankets. She tried to shrug off her covers, but couldn't even twitch under the crushing pressure from every direction. She gasped, and then spluttered. Something was in her mouth, damp and soft and horrible. She couldn't force it out, and as she tried to breathe around it, fluid trickled back into her mouth. No air. Couldn't breathe, now panicking, thrashing with every ounce of strength, desperate to carve out space, mind scrambling for any hold, trying to remember how she'd ended up buried alive, a clue to help her esca Lightning Dust woke up. The pain told her that she was still alive. She couldn't remember. Couldn't remember... something important. It was bad, and she had to get out, had to get out safe like she always did. She needed to think. She needed to be calm. Needed to take a deep, calming breath-- Something vile beyond comprehension filled her mouth, salty and sickening that sent every nerve in her body screaming in panic, sent her stomach lurching inside her, trying to throw up but the pressure around her, the weight and the force stopped her from even vomiting. Her lungs filled with crushed glass and Lightning Dust woke up. She stayed very, very still. Resisti--moving made it worse. She still had her mind, and if she stayed still, she could think, and if she could think, she could still escape. So she just had to stay still. Her thoughts were hot soup as she tried to grasp them. Everything that went through her mind was vague and painful. Ponies grinning horribly. Laughing at her. The taste of orange juice. Violation. Thinking wasn't working. Needed action, careful action. Where was she? Somewhere warm. Somewhere hot, too hot. Trapped. Buried, but not just buried, she could feel things digging into her coat and skin, keeping her in place. Whole head damp and sticky. Too much pressure, too much force, squashing her down. She tried to give each of her limbs the slightest of twitches to see what could move. Wings, trapped. Forelegs, trapped. Half-an-inch of movement in her head. Neck, trapped. Hindlegs, trapped. Tail-- She was suddenly conscious of something, big, painful, shoved deep in her privates and her ass, crushing her from the inside. She couldn't get them out, couldn't even try, stuck and violated. Two grinning faces appeared in her mind to Lightning Dust woke up. She whimpered. "--see you in eight hours--" How long had she been here? She knew she wasn't waking up immediately. Too disjointed, and things had changed. Her head was getting less damp and more sticky. Limbs were weaker. Pain in her lungs a constant inferno, not an explosion. Had to survive this. Pegasus. Wonderbolt. Aced training that would break lesser ponies. Only eight hours, less than eight hours, surely. Just had to measure the time. Counting in colors. Old trick from scout training. Red yellow blue, orange green purple. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Six Eight Nine Ten Would the heat kill her? One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Seven Eight Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Had to keep counting TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Seven Eight Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE minutes THREE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE Two Four Three Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE Three Four Four Six Seve Seven Eight Ten THREE Four Five Seven Seven Seven Lightning Dust woke up. Maybe she was dead, and this was death. This was the last of her mind and soul breaking down and falling away into the ether. Was this Tartarus? She never thought she was bad enough to go there. She was a patriot, an athlete, a hard-worker. Maybe she'd been turned to stone. She wasn't blind, but the light couldn't pass through her eyelids. The crushing pressure was just her new form, and the suffocation was her mind trying to adjust. None of her body had any give. She thought that it had? She could have imagined it. Her whole body might be a phantom limb. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She just had to wait and her mind would adjust, and the pain would be gone. She didn't want to be a statue, but there was nothing she could do. A wave of calm washed over her, even under the crushing weight. Bleep! She heard the buzzing before she felt it. The dildo and the vibrator both roared to life inside her, too much too fast and much too big. She remembered the rape, the stink, the laughter as they'd been forced inside her, and now they rattled around inside her, no peace no calm Lightning Dust woke up. The vibrators had stopped. She wanted to cry. Maybe she already was. She'd been unconscious, and had no way of knowing how long each interval had been. It must had been more than a few minutes each time. Lightning Dust was already awake. She'd woken up, passed out, and woken up. Maybe too, there had been times when she wasn't passed out but hadn't yet woken up, some weird grey stretch of thoughtless discomfort. How many intervals had there been? She tried to remember them but Lightning Dust woke up. Had she forgotten some of the intervals? Nearly a day. It must have been nearly a day. It had to be nearly a day, had to, needed to. piss she was tasting piss Lightning Dust woke up and couldn't scream. The sandwich was delicious. It was too early for lunch, but Pigpen didn't care. He took another bite of the cheese and pickle sandwich, and leaned back against the reins of his cart. Five deliveries down, two-dozen more to go. He finished the sandwich, checked his watch, and grinned. He wondered how the pegasus was doing behind him, still buried underneath a small mountain of compost. She'd been there nearly an hour, after all. woke up. Couldn't remember her name. Needed a name. Trapped. Had to escape. Needed to be calm. Took a deep breath, and There was still compost left to spare when Pigpen returned to his shack. He shucked off his reins, groaning softly as he stretched out his back. All he needed now was a cold beer and a takeaway pizza, and he could relax. As he got to the garage door, he cast a glance back at the wagon, the compost, and the mare doubtless underneath it. He frowned. As funny as it would be to leave the dumb bitch there all night, he couldn't. The life-support collar would keep a healthy, athletic mare alive and undamaged for a while, but it wasn't a miracle worker. He was playing with fire as it was. He needed to dig her out. He got his beer first. He scooped the muck away, and knew right away when he was close--the air reeked of piss. After uncovering the dirty canvas bag, he slung it over his back, carted it into the house, and from there into his basement. The door swung locked behind him, like it always did. The bag wriggled softly once he dumped it on the floor. He looked down at it, and thought. The day in under the pile was a good start, and he knew she'd be softened up, but she was a Wonderbolt. She'd be tougher than the usual sluts he brought down here. It wouldn't be impossible, it probably wouldn't be hard, but he'd need to take a few additional measures. He unzipped the bag and pulled her loose, grinning as the piss-stink washed over him. Her turquoise coat was damp and sticky, and her head twitched under the mask. She must have just woken up. He fiddled with her bonds, removing the rope connecting her neck to her tail, untying and retying each of her limbs so that her forehooves were bound together and her backhooves were bound together, but she was no longer compressed. She writhed weakly. There was no strength in her limbs, and her wings were still bound. Finally, he undid the string around the back of her hood. The sack-cloth came off, practically peeling off her mane and coat, before pulling the sponge from her ring-gagged mouth. Lightning Dust opened her eyes and stared at him, bloodshot and dazed. She made no obvious reaction, but her whole body was shaking. Pigpen took a bottle of water and began to feed her. "Did you enjoy your time in the wagon today?" he asked, expecting a growl in response. She said nothing, her eyes downcast as she sipped. "Mare with the gray face, huh? What a shocker." He dumped the water into her mouth, making her choke and sputter, and then stood up. "I'm just gonna give Thunderlane a call, tell him how you're holding up. Back in a minute, whore." She stared listlessly as he went back up the stairs and out of sight. Pigpen walked into his sitting room, walked right past the phone, walked into the kitchen, and opened another beer. Once he'd finished half, he returned to the basement. "Welp," he sighed, as he prodded the bound mare in the ribs, "the game's up. Ponies are looking for you already, and there's too much heat on Thunderlane to give you back as a sex pet. Sorry, I guess." Lightning Dust's eyes widened, first with hope, then fear. The fear only grew as she watched him take a long length of rope and a stepladder, fed the rope through a pulley on the ceiling, and tied one end of the rope into a noose. The fear mixed in with confusion as he took a bright green balance ball out from a closet and rolled it into the center of the room. It all became panic as the noose slipped around her neck. She cried out and thrashed weakly as he pulled from the other side of the pulley, first dragging her along the floor, then to a sitting position, teetering on her tied-together forehooves, on her back hooves alone, gasping for air, her hooves skittering off the ground, dangling, kicking fruitlessly against nothing. Pigpen watched with amusement for a few moments before rolling the balance ball under her hooves. He had to grab her and steady her, but it allowed her to stand upright on the balance ball without being strangled by the rope. When she was stable, he took a blindfold and noise-cancelling headphones, and climbed up the stepladder to look at her face to face. He could see the trails in her coat where tears had trickled down her cheeks. "Listen, here's the thing," he said. "I really should kill you. Believe me, I don't want to. You're an interesting whore, I'd really enjoy training you, and now that I've got all the time I want, I could auction you off to some real rich freak or a city brothel. But ponies are looking for you, and though they won't find you, I really shouldn't take the chance. I gotta hang you now and turn you into compost." She swallowed dryly, her eyes glazed with resignation. "But part of me really wants to give you a chance. It's gonna take a lot of effort from you, so I'm getting a buy in from you here: If you don't want to live, just kick the ball away from under you. I'm gonna go eat dinner, chill out on the couch and go to bed. If you're still here in the morning, I'll let you down and we'll both know where we stand. How's that sound?" "Glah," she said, through the gag. "Great! Just a few last things. First, we'll take this off," he said, snapping off the life-support collar and putting it to the side, "since I don't wanna stretch out your suffering if you'd rather just give up and die a failure. Then, all we gotta do is..." He placed the blindfold around her eyes, the headphones over her ears, and spat in her mouth. She flinched, and yelped in fright as she struggled to stay balanced. Pigpen took a seat, got a beer, and watched his drool trail down her chin. She truly had a perfect figure, forged into shape by years of training, her exhaustion giving it a hint of softness. He was going to become well acquainted with it, but that would wait. For now, he sat back and enjoyed the show. He left his seat only twice, once to quickly order a pizza, the second time to answer the door to the delivery-colt. He was down to the crusts when Lightning Dust's legs finally buckled, the ball rolling away as she swung by the neck. Putting the pizza aside, he got up and prepared to let her down. He waited until she'd wet herself first, though. He dropped her to the ground, unconscious, removed the noose, put the life-support collar back in place, and carried her sleeping form to a storage chest. After locking it from the outside, he left the basement and crawled into his unmade bed for a two hour power-nap. He'd be damned if he was going to let the dumb bitch sleep all night, after all. ResistanceTwo hours later, Pigpen decided that his captive had been enjoying the luxury of sleep for long enough, so he woke up Lightning Dust by dragging her bound form out of the box and blowing his slimy load all over her blindfolded face. She grunted deliriously, not so much fighting her bonds as flailing against them, only dimly aware of the horrors that were about to unfold. He eased the large dildos out of her rear holes and replaced them with smaller, lube-coated vibrators to avoid damaging her, fed her water which she gulped down desperately and unthinkingly, and then dragged her towards the Whore Gym. The Whore Gym was an untested invention of Pigpen's, built from a home exercise machine, a dozen bits of scrapyard junk, some DIY skill and a pinch of sadistic ingenuity. The different pulleys, weights and levers were bewildering to behold, but Pigpen knew exactly what he wanted out of it. He tied Lightning Dust stomach-down on the padded bench in the middle of it, the tips of her hooves barely brushing the floor as he released the restraints on her legs. Once he had finished rigging her, Lightning Dust's head dipped down into a clear plastic bucket, her wings and front legs were restrained, and her hind legs were fixed to a set of cables. She gave a testing stretch backwards, and once her legs were extended, there was a loud *clack* and a series of ratchet clicks, and her head lifted up clear of the bucket. Three seconds later the ratchets clicked again, and she sunk back down into the empty bucket. "That's how it works, cunt," said Pigpen, "push out your hinds and you get a respite from the bucket. It's a short one, though, 'cause it resets! One, two, three and then you've gotta pull your legs back in and push them allll the way out if you want another break." He walked just out of her field of view and rubbed her rump with a hoof. "Our mutual pal gave me some notes on you, they said your personal best for the leg press machine is 400 kilograms," he said, as he clanked around with cables, attaching them to a set of weighted bars. "That's impressive! I'm not a fitness expert, nothing like you, hell, nothing like Thunderlane even, but I hear that the key to a good workout is a bunch of reps at three-quarters of your maximum weight. So I'm setting the weights to 300 kilos. Not so easy to lift your head up now, huh?" He drank in the silence. "Not even gonna try?" Lightning Dust murmured something through the ring gag. "Oh, got something to say to me?" He unclipped her gag and sat down in front of her, grinning. Her face bore no emotion. "I'm going to kill you," she said impassively. Pigpen blinked, and hooted with laughter. "I'm not going to strap you in your own machine," she continued, "I'm not gonna torture you like you tortured me, nah, nothing like that. I'll just break your spine and leave you down in your own basement until the thirst gets you." "You'd leave me to die like that?" said Pigpen, still giggling, "That's fucked up, lady. You're downright heartless." She struggled against him, eyes flashing with rage as he forced the ring gag back in, but he quickly wedged it between her teeth, strapped it around the back, and spat on her forehead. He walked away from her as his stinking spit dripped down her face and opened his basement refrigerator. He returned with a bottle of beer, which he opened, and a gallon jug of yellow liquid that he set down beside her. He swigged the beer, set it aside, and began carefully pouring the contents of the gallon jug down the sides of the bucket, pooling and frothing at the bottom. She grunted in anger once the smell hit her. "Three days of my piss, all saved for you," he gloated. The liquid first hit her chin, which she flinched from like an electric shock. She tried to keep her neck and head craned as high as possible, but it was a losing battle and a splash of cold, brackish urine soon lapped into her ring-gagged mouth. As he shook the last drops out, the liquid stopped just below her nostrils. Her mouth was immersed with piss, but as long as she held her head up, she had just enough room to breathe. "Dang, I really thought that would be enough," he said. "Ah! I've got just the thing." He stood up on his hind legs, bracing himself on the machine with one hoof, and let his half-hard cock flop onto the rim of the bucket. The stench of his cock cut through the piss, and the hole was still sticky with the remnants of his earlier cumshot. He used his free hoof to gently squeeze his cock down against the bucket's edge, keeping it aimed directly at Lightning Dust's face, and sighed with pleasure. For a moment, nothing happened. "Hey whore, do you know what 'back pressure' is?" he asked. She burbled something in response, and he released his hoof. A firehose steam of pent-up piss blasted her directly in the face, washing away the drying streaks of jizz, drenching her mane and ears and running down directly into the bowl. With her neck already stretched she had nowhere to go, and could only sit there and take it as he used her as a urinal. He pissed for half a minute, and when the last spurts trickled out he saw that her nose was now submerged, completely depriving her of air. She held her breath, thrashing around and trying to break free. Pigpen dismounted the machine and pulled up his chair, sitting down to enjoy the show. Ten seconds later she went still, before pushing her hind legs out against the weights. It was clearly a struggle--her maximum weight must not have been set after a day's confinement in excruciating bondage while buried alive in hot garbage between a hoofful of rapes and near-asphyxiations. Her legs finally extended, and she screamed with relief once her head rose from the mire, piss draining out of her ring-gagged mouth as she took desperate, gulping breaths. A few seconds later, the ratchet click-click-clicked, and the machine sunk back down. Her groan of misery turned into a burble as her face slipped under. She was quick off the mark the second time, pushing her legs out quickly and cleanly, taking several measured breaths before sinking once more. Pigpen watched with amusement as she rose and sunk over and over, opening a bag of corn chips and leaning back in his seat. Lightning Dust didn't falter until the twenty-second rep. She screeched with rage, only able to push her nostrils clear before the machine dunked her again. She cleared the piss completely on the next rep, but it was a losing battle. After thirty reps she fell still, no longer struggling. Pigpen disinterestedly looked up from a purloined medical textbook and looked at her flattened-back ears as she twitched miserably. "It says here," he said between mouthfuls of corn chips, "that when you do a bunch of exercise, you build up lactic acid in your muscles. It's the same chemical that makes milk go sour. I never knew that!" He didn't get out of his seat. He had a suspicion that Lightning Dust had more in her, and was simply wagering that he wouldn't let her drown. Maybe she realised that if he would let her die, it might not be the worst idea to end it quickly. She was right on both counts, but it didn't matter--her life support collar was still attached, and Pigpen planned on abusing her for a long time indeed, long after he'd returned the obedient whore to his friend. Lightning Dust could rest for a while, and feel like she was drowning the entire time, but the darkness would not have her. He figured she'd hold out for two minutes before trying to push free again. She lasted ninety seconds. The first time she breached the surface, she couldn't breathe -- she had to stay still and let the urine drain out of her throat and lungs. The second time she coughed and hacked, the third she finally took a few desperate, sobbing breaths, and by the sixth rep she was losing strength again. On the ninth she sunk under, doomed to repeat the entire miserable cycle. This time, a different set of sounds came from the bucket. Pigpen glanced up at her, and saw the level of piss in the bucket slowly dropping. She was trying to drink her way out! She locked eyes with him for a split second, cringed pathetically with her nostrils barely free of the liquid, and went back down to drink more of it. Pigpen clapped his hooves together in applause, grinning widely, and got out of his seat. "Good, real good!" he said. "You're starting to get it, starting to understand your role in life. You're a urinal. You're built of draining cocks of anything that comes out, and you'll be slurping down a lot of piss in the future." Her breath caught in her throat as he condescendingly patted her mane. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood the point of this game, though," he sighed. "You're going to break, slut. You're not going to obey because anyone is forcing you, you're going to obey because it's unthinkable to do anything else. You can'd do anything to stop your suffering. The only pony who can end your suffering is me, and you have no power over me. By the time you leave this filthy, stinking basement of mine, you won't just obey me because my hooves are on your neck, you'll obey me even if your hooves are on my neck." He walked out of her view, and returned with another gallon jug of urine. "Thus, I must teach you the futility of clever little tricks to stop the pain, even when they amuse me. Got another jug of piss for you, nice and fresh from the stallion's urinals in Ponyville. We picked up a few of these during your ride, and I can't wait to see how many we get through..." He poured cold urine directly onto Lightning Dust's head this time, filling up the bucket until her eyes were submerged, and then sat back down with another beer, laughing as the fresh bucket got another few leg presses out of her. She soon began drowning between desperate, wobbly thrusts, and the gaps between each successful rep grew larger and larger. Eventually she could push no more. After a full five minutes of futile, impotent struggle, he walked up to the machine and re-rigged it. Her hind legs were now immobilized and her front legs could push up and down against the weights, once more set for 75% of her maximum weight. She quickly shot up from the mess, the piss draining from her lungs as the ratchet clicked, sank back under, and shot up again, coughing and clearing her throat. Satisfied with his efforts, Pigpen returned to his chair to snack, read, and watch. It took forty minutes for the cycle to repeat itself. Effort led to exhaustion, exhaustion led to drowning, drowning led to panic, panic led to further effort, over and over, tiring faster and drowning for longer each time. She vomited in the first ten minutes, making the bucket overflow with backwashed piss and making Pigpen roar with laugher. When she just couldn't push any more, Pigpen waked over and switched up the machine, unlocking a hinge in the middle of the board so she could do leg lifts. This torture lasted more than an hour, in part due to Lightning Dust's phenomenal core strength, and in part due to Pigpen leaving her to drown for a full fifteen minutes before switching to her wings. Once her wings were exhausted, he isolated a different set of muscles on her front legs, this time pulling in instead of pushing out. It took a full four hours and another half-gallon of piss to go through every major muscle group her could isolate on the machine. He removed the bucket and threw the contents over her, soaking her in the disgusting mixture. She didn't resist when he fed her a bottle of water, but Pigpen chalked that up to disorientation rather than submission. As she coughed weakly, he gathered a tray of devices stolen from Ponyville Hospital and hooked them up, checking her pulse, her blood-oxygen levels and other vital signs. They weren't great, certainly not for an athlete, but they weren't yet lethal or crippling, so he filled the bucket with another gallon and a half of piss. This time she really screamed, until the liquid cut her off. He hooked her hind legs back up to the press, the very first exerise she'd done, and repeated everything. It took far less time on the second go. She was completely exhausted in less than two hours, and a third of that time had been her twitching impotently while she drowned. Pigpen had expected more of a Wonderbolt trainee, but he realized that he had suffocated, overheated, and crushed her under garbage for an entire day beforehand. Everyone ran out of steam sooner or later. Maybe he should feed her, he thought. He removed the bucket, straddled the stool it had been mounted on as piss dripped ran down his captive's face, and shoved his cock in her mouth. "Gweh..." "Shut the fuck up," he said, ramming his hips forward and making her gag weakly. "Giving blowjobs is a privilege, whore. Obedient mares get to suck cock, stupid cunts like you get their throats fucked." Lightning Dust gave absolutely no struggle as he fucked her throat like a pussy. All she could do was gurgle in pain as his rancid shaft pushed inside her. He took a few long, comfortable strokes before slamming in as hard as he could, smushing his balls up against her chin and battering her nose with his pubic bone. He felt a crunch after an especially vicious stroke, and as he pulled out blood drizzled out from her nostrils onto his shaft. He didn't even slow down. It took him a frustratingly long time to cum--probably more frustrating for the mare impaled on his dick--and as he felt his balls clench, he pulled out of her throat and left only the tip inside her mouth so she could taste every drop of jizz. He was doing her a favor by washing the piss away, he thought. He stepped back and admired his captive. She was desolate. Her eyes were bloodshot, barely conscious, cum and spit poured down her bottom lip, her face twisted into a clownish rictus by the ring gag, her whole body covered in a layer of piss and slime, utterly wretched. Pigpen felt a small glow of pride. Even the most stubborn ones looked like this after one of his games but a few hours later they'd usually get pouty and bitchy again. When a whore ended one session like this and entered the next like this, that's when he could truly start to mould her. He saw her shivering, and frowned. Her internal temperature was probably dropping, and treating hypothermia was a pain in the rump. It was time to give her another rest. He gave her more water, rubbed her dry with a filthy towel, and draped a space blanket over her to keep her warm. He was going to get some shut-eye, but before he went upstairs he set up a film projector to keep her entertained. The screen flickered to life with a film of another fun encounter that him, Thunderlane and a few others had set up last year. They had kidnapped a mailmare and her daughter, locked them in a basement bar in Manehattan, and used them as pleasure toys for two days. Twenty stallions took turns raping the teenager on a dirty mattress, and after each one had their turn, they made the mother lick her cunt clean of cum and blood. The sounds of rape and humiliation played directly into a set of headphones that he'd strapped over Lightning Dust's ears, and although he had just blown his load, the first few minutes watching a griffon force his barbed cock into a bawling daughter's cunt made his loins stir. He considered raping Lighting Dust again, but decided against it and went upstairs, leaving her to rest for the duration of the movie. She'd need all the strength she could muster for the next bit.
PackedTwo beers cracked open. Pigpen cradled his in his hoof, and took a swig. "Good to see you again, Thunderlane." "You too, bro. Thanks for coming." "Hmmfff!" "So what's the problem? Looks like you're all set." "I want a blowjob." "Hffhmmfffff!" "Don't we all, bro, don't we all. You need a ring gag?" "Eh, see, I got a ring gag, but I kinda want a real blowjob, y'know? I want to see her put some love into it, not just lay back while I use her throat like a cunt." "I get ya. It's not the same." "Yeah, no lips, no effort, not knowing that she's got a choice..." "HMMFFFFFF!" Thunderlane sighed, walked forward, and smacked the bound mare on the side of the head. His hoof rang out and she teetered in her shackles. turquoise wings straining against her bonds, her orange mane plastered to her forehead with sweat. She sucked in breath through her nose as she glared at her two captors with utter loathing, her mouth blocked with a bright-red ball gag. Pigpen chuckled. "She's a noisy one. How'd you get her?" "A bunch of boring shit. I got blackmail dirt on her favourite cousin, told her we could work something out. I think she thought I wanted a fuck and a lapdance or some shit. She didn't think I'd drug her orange juice. She's got two weeks leave from her weather team, so I've kept her in the shed for the last few days." "Hah! Dumb bitch." "Yeah. She whines a lot and keeps acting all stuck up. Threatened to bite me if I stuck my dick in her mouth. Standard whore stuff, y'know?" "Yeah, I know. So, what'dya need from me?" "Well, for one thing, you're pretty good at persuading whores to 'see things your way' if you know what I mean..." "And?" Thunderlane smirked. "And if you can make her suck your dick, she'll suck any dick. No offence..." "Hah!" Pigpen walked over to the bound mare, brushing his greasy mane out of his eyes as he inspected her. Her wings were bound to her side, all four of her hooves were held in manacles, and her whole coat was damp with sweat. Her nose wrinkled as he passed in front of her. He couldn't blame her. It had been a week since he'd last showered, after all. "Okay, I know what she needs," said Pigpen, "gimme three days, and I'll have her eating outta the palm of your hoof, among other places. In fact, get your rocks off now if you're still horny, this lil' slut is gonna be indisposed..." Thunderlane walked round the back of the mare, pushed his face under her orange-yellow tail, and took a heady sniff. "You hear that, Lightning Dust?" he said, as he placed his forehooves on her flanks, "You're gonna learn how to please a stallion." Lightning Dust shrieked into her gag as Thunderlane's cock pushed into her cunt. She looked forward to see his filthy friend standing in front of her, masturbating furiously with his cock aimed at her face. The stench was incredible. Her heart sunk as the first rope of scummy, sticky jizz hit her cheek. This would be a long week, for sure... Thunderlane stood back and admired Lightning Dust. Her whole body shook with rage and disgust as thick, sticky cum ran down her thighs at one end and down her face at the other. She scrunched her eyes shut to avoid getting any of the garbage pony's foul jizz in them, and her nostrils twitched as the cooling, salty goo slid slowly down the bridge of her nose. "C'mere and gimme a hand," said Pigpen, as he rooted through his supplies. "Sure thing. Whaddya need?" "First thing, stick this on her neck." Thunderlane eyed the strange collar. It was made from dark leather, with a set of inlaid and obviously magical gems dotted throughout. "What's it for?" he asked, testing its weight in his hoof. "A thing I had made. It'll monitor her vital signs and give her just enough air to keep breathing. When's the last time she had anything to drink?" "I left her with a doggy bowl of water last night." He walked over to Lightning Dust and clipped on the collar, to muted protests. "I'm pretty sure she drank it all." "Good, good." Pigpen walked behind the bound mare, carrying a canvas bag. He pulled an imposingly thick dildo from it, flared at the end like a horse cock, made of hard plastic. She yelped as he pressed the head against her cunt. "She - still tries to - fight - it!" he muttered, twisting the toy clockwise and anticlockwise as he forced it inwards. He was rewarded with a moan of pure humiliation as the thick head slipped inside her. "Yeah, she's pretty dumb like that," said Thunderlane. "I told her it'll only hurt more if she tenses up, but she doesn't listen. I don't think she really likes stallions, y'know?" Pigpen didn't respond. Instead, he shoved the dildo in further, displacing a splash of jizz from deep inside her. After a minute of further pushing, the fake plastic balls of the toy rested against her clit. "One more hole to go..." He held up a buttplug as thick as a cooking apple, drizzled it with a generous helping of lube, and lifted Lightning Dust's tail. She tensed up, utterly silent, as the soft, pointed tip of the plug pressed into her ass. Thunderlane watched with a smirk as his vile friend forced the second toy inside her, marvelling as her asshole spread further and further to swallow up the dark plastic. The screaming really started at the six-inch-thick mark. When it reached the thickest point, both stallions were glad that the shed was soundproofed, gag or no gag. Once it was all the way in, she began to cry. Pigpen took a ring gag from his bag of goodies, sat back, and rubbed the metal ring over his sweaty, unwashed ballsack. He then switched out the ball gag for the new one as Thunderlane held her mane in place, too fast for her to shout or protest. She squinted at him with fear and loathing, trying to keep the sticky cum out of her eyes, dread growing in her stomach as he stood up on two legs and approached her with his half-hard cock. It smelled foul. She had never found stallions attractive, and thought male genitalia seemed unpleasant at the best of times, but Pigpen's cock and balls were a new level of awfulness. The sweat and musky stink alone were bad enough, but Pigpen went beyond that, not just unwashed but actively dirty. She could see sticky patches of half-dried cum, matted fur at the base, spilled food, wiry, greasy pubic hairs, and grey, vinegary crud near the bottom where he hadn't washed his sheath. Her nostrils filled with the stench of piss, week-old garbage cans, rotten fish, dog food, and cigarette smoke. She could practically taste it. His cock twitched to hardness, and a bead of cloudy precum swelled up on the tip. Lightning Dust swallowed, despite herself. "Doing you a favour here, bitch," said Pigpen. "I'm cleaning you off before your training starts..." Lightning Dust froze in horror as his cock touched her cheek, wiping away a streak of the cum he had left there before. Her eyes went wide as he pushed his cock into her mouth, cleaning off his jizz on her tongue. She was too stunned to throw up. He tasted of sour milk, and all she could smell was bleach and eggs. Thunderlane was beside himself with laughter as he watched his stuck-up teammate being force-fed jizz from an unclean cock. Once Pigpen had scraped away all the jizz he could from her face, he stood closer, and pushed his sweaty balls against her face. She tried to turn away, and when he held her head in place, withdrew her tongue all the way to avoid tasting them. "Listen bitch," said Pigpen, "you've got a choice. You can lick my balls, or I'm gonna fuck your mouth until I cum again. You'll swallow all my jizz, and if you try throw it up, I'll force-feed it to you through your nose. You understand? Do I need - ahhh..." Pigpen's glare melted into a dazed grin as her tongue flitted out, tasting sweat, musk, and unwashed ballsack. Maybe there was hope for this slut after all... After rubbing his spit-slicked balls dry, Pigpen walked round the side of Lightning Dust, grinning to himself as she tried to spit the vile taste out of her mouth. The ring gag made that task difficult, and she only succeeded in covering her chin with drool. He placed a hoof on her side, gave it a testing wiggle, and then shoved her over. He burst out laughing as she toppled, cursing in pain as her head hit the floorboards. She squirmed, her bound wing in pain from where she had landed on it. Before she could regain her bearings, he was on top of her. First, he removed the shackle from her right forehoof, folded her leg at the joint, and slipped a specially-made sleeve over it. Once tightened, she could only wiggle her half-limb. He did this for her back leg, and then attached a D-ring to a slot at the elbow and knee of each sleeve. With a carabiner he clipped the two D-rings together, compressing her body, forcing the ends of her two half-limbs to touch. He rolled her over, did the same thing to her left legs, and rolled her onto her back. She looked up at him with the wild eyes of a cornered animal. As nice as the view was, he wanted a different one, so her sat on her face, looking down her body. She squealed as his balls flopped into her ring-gagged mouth for the second time and his ass-crack enveloped her face, but cut it short. Being curled up made her lungs ache with effort, squeezing out the air and limiting every breath. She had wasted half her air on that squeal, and with her mouth filled, the next breath she took would be sucked into her nose through Pigpen's sweaty, fetid ass-crack. Pigpen paid little attention to the snuffles and struggles below him. He tied a band around the base of her tail, and secured a length of sturdy twine to it. After giving the dildos in her rear holes a few hard slaps and enjoying the rage-filled snorts and struggles of his 'seat,' he took the twine and fed it through a D-ring on her enchanted collar. He started to pull it through. Her lower back rose off the ground as the twine pulled her rump towards her neck. Then, he stood up, and really started to shorten the twine. After several more pulls, she tried screaming. A few pulls after that, she stopped. She couldn't scream. She couldn't even whimper. The bondage had her rolled up like a pill-bug. There was only room in her chest for an eighth of a breath, and each one of those had to be yanked in and barred from leaving. Her legs and wings were useless, black spots danced around the edge of her vision, and her muzzle was an inch away from the thick, hard dildo stuffed deep in her cunt. Something warm dribbled off her brow, making her shut her eye. Thunderlane had walked over and casually spat in her face. He didn't even look down at her. "Neato," said Thunderlane. "How long you keeping her like this for?" Pigpen rooted around in his bag. "Oh, we're not done yet. Hell, I've barely gotten started. I'm just making her... easy to transport." He pulled out a square yard of sack-cloth fabric, placed a dish sponge in the center, and folded the cloth square over. With some more twine, he bound up the sponge in a small ball of the cloth, with the sponge on one side of the knot and the mass of the rest of the cloth flopping out of the other side. "This, my friend, is the fun part." Lightning Dust could make no sound as the cloth-covered sponge was forced into her mouth. The rest of the rough fabric was pulled back over her head, completely robbing her of sight. She felt the jerky motions of him tying it off at the back, completing her blackout hood. Her breath warmed the inside of the hood as she exhaled. When she inhaled, the cloth stuck to her nostrils. There were no air holes. She was going to suffocate. She thrashed frantically, moving her body less than an inch for her efforts. She couldn't cry out. Though she could pull air through the roughly-woven fabric, it just wasn't enough. The bondage alone was slowly smothering her, waiting for her to tire. The hood sped everything up. Even blinded, she could feel the room spinning, spots of white in the blackness. She knew from training that she didn't have long. In fifteen seconds she'd pass out. Her pulse was a snare drum behind her eyes. Ten seconds. Spikes lined her ribcage. Five seconds. Mind blotting out like a film reel on a hot plate. One second. No seconds. She was still awake. Still in pain. Still about to pass out. Another ten seconds passed. She remembered the collar. A life support system. Just enough oxygen to stop her from passing out. They wouldn't let her breathe, and they wouldn't let her sleep. The hood grew wet with her tears. Pigpen and Thunderlane watched the show with detached amusement. Her struggles faded as her breathing grew weaker, and kicked back in when the collar infused her with enough magic to keep her awake. She made no sound and could only twitch. In all the sleeves and sack-cloth, she barely looked like a pony at all. Pigpen took out a canvas bag, just big enough for the folded-up mare, and laid it out next to her. "Gimme a hoof with this, will ya?" The two stallions lifted her in, pulling the sides of the bag up around her. Pigpen zipped it up halfway. Her hooded head could be seen inside. "I'm gonna take her for a ride on the wagon today, get her nice and limbered up for a training session later. She's almost ready." "Wait, she's still not ready? She's in the bag, dude, what else is left to do to her?" Pigpen grinned at him, stood next to the bag, and aimed his soft cock at the opening. "You know I left a sponge in her mouth for a reason, right?" With a laugh, Thunderlane took his place on the other side of the bag and aimed his own dick downwards. Two jets of piss flowed out, splattering directly on Lightning Dust's head, soaking into the coarse hood. Lightning Dust felt the wetness spread, but she had no idea what was happening until the cloth soaked through at the edges of her ring gag, each gasp of air now tainted with the musky stench of urine. It soaked through into her mouth. She struggled in a new panic, but the thrashing of her tongue squished the sponge, drawing fresh piss into it, releasing a fresh burst every time she moved it. Wet, humid heat prickled her skin, and she realized with growing dread that this wringing-wet hood would only grow less comfortable... Thunderlane looked down at the defiled mare. Her head was drenched, but so was the rest of her body. Most of the piss had settled in the bottom of the semi-waterproof bag, and was only seeping out a few drops at a time. She'd be soaking in it for a while, he mused. "Now," said Pigpen, zipping up the bag and hiding the mare entirely from view, "this bitch is ready. See you in three days, pal!"
InductionPigpen took no particular care as he tossed the heavy, piss-dripping bag onto the flatbed of his compost wagon - the suspension was excellent, and he could be far rougher on his vehicle without damaging it. As expected, he didn't even hear a squeak from his captive, and the bag barely twitched. He grinned. It was about to get significantly less pleasant for her. Sunrise was in an hour, and his deliveries began half an hour before that. He wheeled the wagon out of his shed and moved it to his silo, where the magic happened: the giant column of biodegradable garbage that was the basis for the most desirable compost in all of Ponyville. A huge funnel jutted out of the sheet-metal cylinder, pointing down at the bed of his wagon. He pulled a lever, and watched with amusement as a deluge of steaming-hot compost tumbled out to bury Lightning Dust entirely. The lever clicked back into place, shutting off after dispensing the day's amount. The arrogant Pegasus was now surrounded by a literal ton of garbage. He chuckled to himself as he hitched up to the wagon and began to cart it towards his customers. First, she'd feel the pressure, all that weight bearing down on top of her, pressing her body into the hard floorboards of the wagon. Then the heat, the steaming warmth of organic material being broken down, flowing into her bag, stopping her from cooling down even a little bit. The thirst would set in, and the heat would grow worse, prickling and stifling, drawing out sweat that she could not afford to lose. She'd suck the piss-soaked sponge just for a desperate gulp of liquid, until the nausea made her try to expel it all. Only the magic of the collar would stop her from suffocating entirely. All that would happen within an hour. She'd be buried under there for his whole eight-hour shift. He couldn't wait to get home... Lightning Dust woke up. She was too hot, like her whole body was wrapped in electric blankets. She tried to shrug off her covers, but couldn't even twitch under the crushing pressure from every direction. She gasped, and then spluttered. Something was in her mouth, damp and soft and horrible. She couldn't force it out, and as she tried to breathe around it, fluid trickled back into her mouth. No air. Couldn't breathe, now panicking, thrashing with every ounce of strength, desperate to carve out space, mind scrambling for any hold, trying to remember how she'd ended up buried alive, a clue to help her esca Lightning Dust woke up. The pain told her that she was still alive. She couldn't remember. Couldn't remember... something important. It was bad, and she had to get out, had to get out safe like she always did. She needed to think. She needed to be calm. Needed to take a deep, calming breath-- Something vile beyond comprehension filled her mouth, salty and sickening that sent every nerve in her body screaming in panic, sent her stomach lurching inside her, trying to throw up but the pressure around her, the weight and the force stopped her from even vomiting. Her lungs filled with crushed glass and Lightning Dust woke up. She stayed very, very still. Resisti--moving made it worse. She still had her mind, and if she stayed still, she could think, and if she could think, she could still escape. So she just had to stay still. Her thoughts were hot soup as she tried to grasp them. Everything that went through her mind was vague and painful. Ponies grinning horribly. Laughing at her. The taste of orange juice. Violation. Thinking wasn't working. Needed action, careful action. Where was she? Somewhere warm. Somewhere hot, too hot. Trapped. Buried, but not just buried, she could feel things digging into her coat and skin, keeping her in place. Whole head damp and sticky. Too much pressure, too much force, squashing her down. She tried to give each of her limbs the slightest of twitches to see what could move. Wings, trapped. Forelegs, trapped. Half-an-inch of movement in her head. Neck, trapped. Hindlegs, trapped. Tail-- She was suddenly conscious of something, big, painful, shoved deep in her privates and her ass, crushing her from the inside. She couldn't get them out, couldn't even try, stuck and violated. Two grinning faces appeared in her mind to Lightning Dust woke up. She whimpered. "--see you in eight hours--" How long had she been here? She knew she wasn't waking up immediately. Too disjointed, and things had changed. Her head was getting less damp and more sticky. Limbs were weaker. Pain in her lungs a constant inferno, not an explosion. Had to survive this. Pegasus. Wonderbolt. Aced training that would break lesser ponies. Only eight hours, less than eight hours, surely. Just had to measure the time. Counting in colors. Old trick from scout training. Red yellow blue, orange green purple. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Six Eight Nine Ten Would the heat kill her? One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Seven Eight Ten ONE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Had to keep counting TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Seven Eight Ten TWO Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE minutes THREE Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE Two Four Three Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten TWO Two Three Four Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THREE Three Four Four Six Seve Seven Eight Ten THREE Four Five Seven Seven Seven Lightning Dust woke up. Maybe she was dead, and this was death. This was the last of her mind and soul breaking down and falling away into the ether. Was this Tartarus? She never thought she was bad enough to go there. She was a patriot, an athlete, a hard-worker. Maybe she'd been turned to stone. She wasn't blind, but the light couldn't pass through her eyelids. The crushing pressure was just her new form, and the suffocation was her mind trying to adjust. None of her body had any give. She thought that it had? She could have imagined it. Her whole body might be a phantom limb. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She just had to wait and her mind would adjust, and the pain would be gone. She didn't want to be a statue, but there was nothing she could do. A wave of calm washed over her, even under the crushing weight. Bleep! She heard the buzzing before she felt it. The dildo and the vibrator both roared to life inside her, too much too fast and much too big. She remembered the rape, the stink, the laughter as they'd been forced inside her, and now they rattled around inside her, no peace no calm Lightning Dust woke up. The vibrators had stopped. She wanted to cry. Maybe she already was. She'd been unconscious, and had no way of knowing how long each interval had been. It must had been more than a few minutes each time. Lightning Dust was already awake. She'd woken up, passed out, and woken up. Maybe too, there had been times when she wasn't passed out but hadn't yet woken up, some weird grey stretch of thoughtless discomfort. How many intervals had there been? She tried to remember them but Lightning Dust woke up. Had she forgotten some of the intervals? Nearly a day. It must have been nearly a day. It had to be nearly a day, had to, needed to. piss she was tasting piss Lightning Dust woke up and couldn't scream. The sandwich was delicious. It was too early for lunch, but Pigpen didn't care. He took another bite of the cheese and pickle sandwich, and leaned back against the reins of his cart. Five deliveries down, two-dozen more to go. He finished the sandwich, checked his watch, and grinned. He wondered how the pegasus was doing behind him, still buried underneath a small mountain of compost. She'd been there nearly an hour, after all. woke up. Couldn't remember her name. Needed a name. Trapped. Had to escape. Needed to be calm. Took a deep breath, and There was still compost left to spare when Pigpen returned to his shack. He shucked off his reins, groaning softly as he stretched out his back. All he needed now was a cold beer and a takeaway pizza, and he could relax. As he got to the garage door, he cast a glance back at the wagon, the compost, and the mare doubtless underneath it. He frowned. As funny as it would be to leave the dumb bitch there all night, he couldn't. The life-support collar would keep a healthy, athletic mare alive and undamaged for a while, but it wasn't a miracle worker. He was playing with fire as it was. He needed to dig her out. He got his beer first. He scooped the muck away, and knew right away when he was close--the air reeked of piss. After uncovering the dirty canvas bag, he slung it over his back, carted it into the house, and from there into his basement. The door swung locked behind him, like it always did. The bag wriggled softly once he dumped it on the floor. He looked down at it, and thought. The day in under the pile was a good start, and he knew she'd be softened up, but she was a Wonderbolt. She'd be tougher than the usual sluts he brought down here. It wouldn't be impossible, it probably wouldn't be hard, but he'd need to take a few additional measures. He unzipped the bag and pulled her loose, grinning as the piss-stink washed over him. Her turquoise coat was damp and sticky, and her head twitched under the mask. She must have just woken up. He fiddled with her bonds, removing the rope connecting her neck to her tail, untying and retying each of her limbs so that her forehooves were bound together and her backhooves were bound together, but she was no longer compressed. She writhed weakly. There was no strength in her limbs, and her wings were still bound. Finally, he undid the string around the back of her hood. The sack-cloth came off, practically peeling off her mane and coat, before pulling the sponge from her ring-gagged mouth. Lightning Dust opened her eyes and stared at him, bloodshot and dazed. She made no obvious reaction, but her whole body was shaking. Pigpen took a bottle of water and began to feed her. "Did you enjoy your time in the wagon today?" he asked, expecting a growl in response. She said nothing, her eyes downcast as she sipped. "Mare with the gray face, huh? What a shocker." He dumped the water into her mouth, making her choke and sputter, and then stood up. "I'm just gonna give Thunderlane a call, tell him how you're holding up. Back in a minute, whore." She stared listlessly as he went back up the stairs and out of sight. Pigpen walked into his sitting room, walked right past the phone, walked into the kitchen, and opened another beer. Once he'd finished half, he returned to the basement. "Welp," he sighed, as he prodded the bound mare in the ribs, "the game's up. Ponies are looking for you already, and there's too much heat on Thunderlane to give you back as a sex pet. Sorry, I guess." Lightning Dust's eyes widened, first with hope, then fear. The fear only grew as she watched him take a long length of rope and a stepladder, fed the rope through a pulley on the ceiling, and tied one end of the rope into a noose. The fear mixed in with confusion as he took a bright green balance ball out from a closet and rolled it into the center of the room. It all became panic as the noose slipped around her neck. She cried out and thrashed weakly as he pulled from the other side of the pulley, first dragging her along the floor, then to a sitting position, teetering on her tied-together forehooves, on her back hooves alone, gasping for air, her hooves skittering off the ground, dangling, kicking fruitlessly against nothing. Pigpen watched with amusement for a few moments before rolling the balance ball under her hooves. He had to grab her and steady her, but it allowed her to stand upright on the balance ball without being strangled by the rope. When she was stable, he took a blindfold and noise-cancelling headphones, and climbed up the stepladder to look at her face to face. He could see the trails in her coat where tears had trickled down her cheeks. "Listen, here's the thing," he said. "I really should kill you. Believe me, I don't want to. You're an interesting whore, I'd really enjoy training you, and now that I've got all the time I want, I could auction you off to some real rich freak or a city brothel. But ponies are looking for you, and though they won't find you, I really shouldn't take the chance. I gotta hang you now and turn you into compost." She swallowed dryly, her eyes glazed with resignation. "But part of me really wants to give you a chance. It's gonna take a lot of effort from you, so I'm getting a buy in from you here: If you don't want to live, just kick the ball away from under you. I'm gonna go eat dinner, chill out on the couch and go to bed. If you're still here in the morning, I'll let you down and we'll both know where we stand. How's that sound?" "Glah," she said, through the gag. "Great! Just a few last things. First, we'll take this off," he said, snapping off the life-support collar and putting it to the side, "since I don't wanna stretch out your suffering if you'd rather just give up and die a failure. Then, all we gotta do is..." He placed the blindfold around her eyes, the headphones over her ears, and spat in her mouth. She flinched, and yelped in fright as she struggled to stay balanced. Pigpen took a seat, got a beer, and watched his drool trail down her chin. She truly had a perfect figure, forged into shape by years of training, her exhaustion giving it a hint of softness. He was going to become well acquainted with it, but that would wait. For now, he sat back and enjoyed the show. He left his seat only twice, once to quickly order a pizza, the second time to answer the door to the delivery-colt. He was down to the crusts when Lightning Dust's legs finally buckled, the ball rolling away as she swung by the neck. Putting the pizza aside, he got up and prepared to let her down. He waited until she'd wet herself first, though. He dropped her to the ground, unconscious, removed the noose, put the life-support collar back in place, and carried her sleeping form to a storage chest. After locking it from the outside, he left the basement and crawled into his unmade bed for a two hour power-nap. He'd be damned if he was going to let the dumb bitch sleep all night, after all.
ResistanceTwo hours later, Pigpen decided that his captive had been enjoying the luxury of sleep for long enough, so he woke up Lightning Dust by dragging her bound form out of the box and blowing his slimy load all over her blindfolded face. She grunted deliriously, not so much fighting her bonds as flailing against them, only dimly aware of the horrors that were about to unfold. He eased the large dildos out of her rear holes and replaced them with smaller, lube-coated vibrators to avoid damaging her, fed her water which she gulped down desperately and unthinkingly, and then dragged her towards the Whore Gym. The Whore Gym was an untested invention of Pigpen's, built from a home exercise machine, a dozen bits of scrapyard junk, some DIY skill and a pinch of sadistic ingenuity. The different pulleys, weights and levers were bewildering to behold, but Pigpen knew exactly what he wanted out of it. He tied Lightning Dust stomach-down on the padded bench in the middle of it, the tips of her hooves barely brushing the floor as he released the restraints on her legs. Once he had finished rigging her, Lightning Dust's head dipped down into a clear plastic bucket, her wings and front legs were restrained, and her hind legs were fixed to a set of cables. She gave a testing stretch backwards, and once her legs were extended, there was a loud *clack* and a series of ratchet clicks, and her head lifted up clear of the bucket. Three seconds later the ratchets clicked again, and she sunk back down into the empty bucket. "That's how it works, cunt," said Pigpen, "push out your hinds and you get a respite from the bucket. It's a short one, though, 'cause it resets! One, two, three and then you've gotta pull your legs back in and push them allll the way out if you want another break." He walked just out of her field of view and rubbed her rump with a hoof. "Our mutual pal gave me some notes on you, they said your personal best for the leg press machine is 400 kilograms," he said, as he clanked around with cables, attaching them to a set of weighted bars. "That's impressive! I'm not a fitness expert, nothing like you, hell, nothing like Thunderlane even, but I hear that the key to a good workout is a bunch of reps at three-quarters of your maximum weight. So I'm setting the weights to 300 kilos. Not so easy to lift your head up now, huh?" He drank in the silence. "Not even gonna try?" Lightning Dust murmured something through the ring gag. "Oh, got something to say to me?" He unclipped her gag and sat down in front of her, grinning. Her face bore no emotion. "I'm going to kill you," she said impassively. Pigpen blinked, and hooted with laughter. "I'm not going to strap you in your own machine," she continued, "I'm not gonna torture you like you tortured me, nah, nothing like that. I'll just break your spine and leave you down in your own basement until the thirst gets you." "You'd leave me to die like that?" said Pigpen, still giggling, "That's fucked up, lady. You're downright heartless." She struggled against him, eyes flashing with rage as he forced the ring gag back in, but he quickly wedged it between her teeth, strapped it around the back, and spat on her forehead. He walked away from her as his stinking spit dripped down her face and opened his basement refrigerator. He returned with a bottle of beer, which he opened, and a gallon jug of yellow liquid that he set down beside her. He swigged the beer, set it aside, and began carefully pouring the contents of the gallon jug down the sides of the bucket, pooling and frothing at the bottom. She grunted in anger once the smell hit her. "Three days of my piss, all saved for you," he gloated. The liquid first hit her chin, which she flinched from like an electric shock. She tried to keep her neck and head craned as high as possible, but it was a losing battle and a splash of cold, brackish urine soon lapped into her ring-gagged mouth. As he shook the last drops out, the liquid stopped just below her nostrils. Her mouth was immersed with piss, but as long as she held her head up, she had just enough room to breathe. "Dang, I really thought that would be enough," he said. "Ah! I've got just the thing." He stood up on his hind legs, bracing himself on the machine with one hoof, and let his half-hard cock flop onto the rim of the bucket. The stench of his cock cut through the piss, and the hole was still sticky with the remnants of his earlier cumshot. He used his free hoof to gently squeeze his cock down against the bucket's edge, keeping it aimed directly at Lightning Dust's face, and sighed with pleasure. For a moment, nothing happened. "Hey whore, do you know what 'back pressure' is?" he asked. She burbled something in response, and he released his hoof. A firehose steam of pent-up piss blasted her directly in the face, washing away the drying streaks of jizz, drenching her mane and ears and running down directly into the bowl. With her neck already stretched she had nowhere to go, and could only sit there and take it as he used her as a urinal. He pissed for half a minute, and when the last spurts trickled out he saw that her nose was now submerged, completely depriving her of air. She held her breath, thrashing around and trying to break free. Pigpen dismounted the machine and pulled up his chair, sitting down to enjoy the show. Ten seconds later she went still, before pushing her hind legs out against the weights. It was clearly a struggle--her maximum weight must not have been set after a day's confinement in excruciating bondage while buried alive in hot garbage between a hoofful of rapes and near-asphyxiations. Her legs finally extended, and she screamed with relief once her head rose from the mire, piss draining out of her ring-gagged mouth as she took desperate, gulping breaths. A few seconds later, the ratchet click-click-clicked, and the machine sunk back down. Her groan of misery turned into a burble as her face slipped under. She was quick off the mark the second time, pushing her legs out quickly and cleanly, taking several measured breaths before sinking once more. Pigpen watched with amusement as she rose and sunk over and over, opening a bag of corn chips and leaning back in his seat. Lightning Dust didn't falter until the twenty-second rep. She screeched with rage, only able to push her nostrils clear before the machine dunked her again. She cleared the piss completely on the next rep, but it was a losing battle. After thirty reps she fell still, no longer struggling. Pigpen disinterestedly looked up from a purloined medical textbook and looked at her flattened-back ears as she twitched miserably. "It says here," he said between mouthfuls of corn chips, "that when you do a bunch of exercise, you build up lactic acid in your muscles. It's the same chemical that makes milk go sour. I never knew that!" He didn't get out of his seat. He had a suspicion that Lightning Dust had more in her, and was simply wagering that he wouldn't let her drown. Maybe she realised that if he would let her die, it might not be the worst idea to end it quickly. She was right on both counts, but it didn't matter--her life support collar was still attached, and Pigpen planned on abusing her for a long time indeed, long after he'd returned the obedient whore to his friend. Lightning Dust could rest for a while, and feel like she was drowning the entire time, but the darkness would not have her. He figured she'd hold out for two minutes before trying to push free again. She lasted ninety seconds. The first time she breached the surface, she couldn't breathe -- she had to stay still and let the urine drain out of her throat and lungs. The second time she coughed and hacked, the third she finally took a few desperate, sobbing breaths, and by the sixth rep she was losing strength again. On the ninth she sunk under, doomed to repeat the entire miserable cycle. This time, a different set of sounds came from the bucket. Pigpen glanced up at her, and saw the level of piss in the bucket slowly dropping. She was trying to drink her way out! She locked eyes with him for a split second, cringed pathetically with her nostrils barely free of the liquid, and went back down to drink more of it. Pigpen clapped his hooves together in applause, grinning widely, and got out of his seat. "Good, real good!" he said. "You're starting to get it, starting to understand your role in life. You're a urinal. You're built of draining cocks of anything that comes out, and you'll be slurping down a lot of piss in the future." Her breath caught in her throat as he condescendingly patted her mane. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood the point of this game, though," he sighed. "You're going to break, slut. You're not going to obey because anyone is forcing you, you're going to obey because it's unthinkable to do anything else. You can'd do anything to stop your suffering. The only pony who can end your suffering is me, and you have no power over me. By the time you leave this filthy, stinking basement of mine, you won't just obey me because my hooves are on your neck, you'll obey me even if your hooves are on my neck." He walked out of her view, and returned with another gallon jug of urine. "Thus, I must teach you the futility of clever little tricks to stop the pain, even when they amuse me. Got another jug of piss for you, nice and fresh from the stallion's urinals in Ponyville. We picked up a few of these during your ride, and I can't wait to see how many we get through..." He poured cold urine directly onto Lightning Dust's head this time, filling up the bucket until her eyes were submerged, and then sat back down with another beer, laughing as the fresh bucket got another few leg presses out of her. She soon began drowning between desperate, wobbly thrusts, and the gaps between each successful rep grew larger and larger. Eventually she could push no more. After a full five minutes of futile, impotent struggle, he walked up to the machine and re-rigged it. Her hind legs were now immobilized and her front legs could push up and down against the weights, once more set for 75% of her maximum weight. She quickly shot up from the mess, the piss draining from her lungs as the ratchet clicked, sank back under, and shot up again, coughing and clearing her throat. Satisfied with his efforts, Pigpen returned to his chair to snack, read, and watch. It took forty minutes for the cycle to repeat itself. Effort led to exhaustion, exhaustion led to drowning, drowning led to panic, panic led to further effort, over and over, tiring faster and drowning for longer each time. She vomited in the first ten minutes, making the bucket overflow with backwashed piss and making Pigpen roar with laugher. When she just couldn't push any more, Pigpen waked over and switched up the machine, unlocking a hinge in the middle of the board so she could do leg lifts. This torture lasted more than an hour, in part due to Lightning Dust's phenomenal core strength, and in part due to Pigpen leaving her to drown for a full fifteen minutes before switching to her wings. Once her wings were exhausted, he isolated a different set of muscles on her front legs, this time pulling in instead of pushing out. It took a full four hours and another half-gallon of piss to go through every major muscle group her could isolate on the machine. He removed the bucket and threw the contents over her, soaking her in the disgusting mixture. She didn't resist when he fed her a bottle of water, but Pigpen chalked that up to disorientation rather than submission. As she coughed weakly, he gathered a tray of devices stolen from Ponyville Hospital and hooked them up, checking her pulse, her blood-oxygen levels and other vital signs. They weren't great, certainly not for an athlete, but they weren't yet lethal or crippling, so he filled the bucket with another gallon and a half of piss. This time she really screamed, until the liquid cut her off. He hooked her hind legs back up to the press, the very first exerise she'd done, and repeated everything. It took far less time on the second go. She was completely exhausted in less than two hours, and a third of that time had been her twitching impotently while she drowned. Pigpen had expected more of a Wonderbolt trainee, but he realized that he had suffocated, overheated, and crushed her under garbage for an entire day beforehand. Everyone ran out of steam sooner or later. Maybe he should feed her, he thought. He removed the bucket, straddled the stool it had been mounted on as piss dripped ran down his captive's face, and shoved his cock in her mouth. "Gweh..." "Shut the fuck up," he said, ramming his hips forward and making her gag weakly. "Giving blowjobs is a privilege, whore. Obedient mares get to suck cock, stupid cunts like you get their throats fucked." Lightning Dust gave absolutely no struggle as he fucked her throat like a pussy. All she could do was gurgle in pain as his rancid shaft pushed inside her. He took a few long, comfortable strokes before slamming in as hard as he could, smushing his balls up against her chin and battering her nose with his pubic bone. He felt a crunch after an especially vicious stroke, and as he pulled out blood drizzled out from her nostrils onto his shaft. He didn't even slow down. It took him a frustratingly long time to cum--probably more frustrating for the mare impaled on his dick--and as he felt his balls clench, he pulled out of her throat and left only the tip inside her mouth so she could taste every drop of jizz. He was doing her a favor by washing the piss away, he thought. He stepped back and admired his captive. She was desolate. Her eyes were bloodshot, barely conscious, cum and spit poured down her bottom lip, her face twisted into a clownish rictus by the ring gag, her whole body covered in a layer of piss and slime, utterly wretched. Pigpen felt a small glow of pride. Even the most stubborn ones looked like this after one of his games but a few hours later they'd usually get pouty and bitchy again. When a whore ended one session like this and entered the next like this, that's when he could truly start to mould her. He saw her shivering, and frowned. Her internal temperature was probably dropping, and treating hypothermia was a pain in the rump. It was time to give her another rest. He gave her more water, rubbed her dry with a filthy towel, and draped a space blanket over her to keep her warm. He was going to get some shut-eye, but before he went upstairs he set up a film projector to keep her entertained. The screen flickered to life with a film of another fun encounter that him, Thunderlane and a few others had set up last year. They had kidnapped a mailmare and her daughter, locked them in a basement bar in Manehattan, and used them as pleasure toys for two days. Twenty stallions took turns raping the teenager on a dirty mattress, and after each one had their turn, they made the mother lick her cunt clean of cum and blood. The sounds of rape and humiliation played directly into a set of headphones that he'd strapped over Lightning Dust's ears, and although he had just blown his load, the first few minutes watching a griffon force his barbed cock into a bawling daughter's cunt made his loins stir. He considered raping Lighting Dust again, but decided against it and went upstairs, leaving her to rest for the duration of the movie. She'd need all the strength she could muster for the next bit.
