Trapped Lightning

Pigpen 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.