Prodigal Daughter

***

A painful slap on the cheek, then another, woke Derpy. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times, trying to focus her gaze. There was somepony sitting on top of her, she felt, and as the blurry image sharpened, she realised it was a white mare, a beautiful mare with a pink mane, perhaps the most beautiful Derpy saw if not for the hateful grimace twisting her face. The gray pegasus was puzzled, unable to make sense of what was happening around her, her mind coursing slowly through the events from before her awakening, trying to piece them together into a coherent whole, to find an explanation for the mare's abuse. Finally she gave up, formulated a sentence in her head, opened her mouth to speak, only to get smashed across her face again.

”Don't you dare speak. Just nod or shake your head. Listening to your voice is a torture. Do you understand?”

After a few seconds of puzzled staring in various directions, Derpy nodded weakly. She didn't really know what was going on. How did she get here, and why was the mare acting so nasty?

Fleur got off the pegasus and let her stand up and get a hold of her surroundings. A gray, stone room, with no furnishings save for the pair of metal bracers on the wall and a small table, next to which there was seated a handsome, white-coated gentlecolt. Derpy stared cross the room, puzzled. Where was she, and where was Dinky, she was about to ask, when the mare delivered a precise kick to the side of her head.

Fleur and Fancypants watched and laughed as the pegasus suddenly lost the sense of up and down, twisting her head in an awkward manner, attempting to fly on her side and promptly falling down. She rolled back and forth, hooves desperately trying to find a solid surface somewhere above her, spreading to the sides in search of walls, bracing to avoid any injury once she finally reaches the bottom of the well. Was it a well?. Her eyes were still staring blankly into different directions, contrasting with her mouth screaming beautiful songs that made mockery of any known alphabet. The wings were flailing, flapping furiously only to hit the rock floor. Fancypants grinned, appreciating the performance that would earn the pegasus a position of a diva in the perpetual choir of the Canterlot madhouse. Fleur approached carefully, avoiding the blind kicks into the air, and stepped on Derpy's chest, applying enough force to drive any air out of the blond mare's lungs. She was overcome with disgust at her wheeze, and for a moment she considered choking to death with a sort of indignation at the gray pegasus' existence. She pressed further, until she felt the ribs under her hoof plunge into the organs they were supposed to protect. She lifted the hoof, allowing a gasp, then pushed again angrily, staring intently at the captive, as if she wanted to will the despicable wretch into looking at her. She finally turned her head to the mare, staring with some sort of innocuous and at the same time complacent scare. Her expression only infuriated Fleur further.

Derpy could feel every attempted breath, every instinctive contraction of muscles, send a surge of pain through her veins, each heartbeat pumping acid through her body.  What did she do to deserve this? Ponies were mean to her sometimes, but she always felt that they were simply unhappy and in their sadness didn't pay attention to what they were doing to others. This one here, though, seemed to care, very much. Or perhaps she was just very, very unhappy, a thought flicked her suffocating brain. ”Why...are...you...,” the pegasus coughed out words with difficulty before being hit on the face again.

”No reason in particular,” exclaimed Fancypants, approaching the two ponies. ”You did not do anything wrong, except perhaps being born. Anyway, that is enough for now, dear.” Fleur looked back to him with disappointment, and let go of Derpy. ”Very well. Now that you were shown the consequences of disobedience, let me explain your predicament.” He looked to the blond mare expectantly, and she nodded. ”You are going to spend some time here. Ask not how much, because the amount is indeterminate. If we will feel like it, we will pleasure ourselves with you regardless of your consent, and then let you go. Am I clear?”

Derpy looked to him, distressed. How long would she have to stay there? What of the little Dinky? She broke into tears. Then, a surge of magic pulled her front hooves up and started dragging her on the floor.

With an audible clack, the bracers locked around Derpy's front legs, locking her in one place. Fancypants approached her, checked if they hold tight. He smiled and turned around, he and Fleur left the room and everything went silent. After a moment, the lights were extinguished. Derpy was left alone, the only sources of sensations being the subsiding pain, the coldness of bracers and the rough wall behind her back.

***

”As I was saying, at times she can become exceedingly rough. It seems to me that it is meant to impress-”

The filly shifted next to Fancypants in her sleep, moving closer to him. The stallion's gaze focused on her, and Rarity witnessed a shudder pass through him as he stared absent-mindedly at the foal who was so comfortable in his ensnaring embrace.

”So, now you are going to finally...initiate her into the faith?,” taunted the mare with expectation.

He gazed her heedlessly for a moment. ”I guess you could, um, call it this way,” he replied blankly.

He nudged the filly genly with his snout, just enough to wake her up. Her rose eyes opened slowly, and a weak smile was brought to her fearful face as she felt Fancypants stroke her mane. Another, more urgent nudge was soon obeyed as she got off the couch hesitantly. The two unicorns followed, Fancypants' lips remaining still but cheeks raised in an expression reminiscent of a smile, and Rarity's face alight with exuberant craving. The mare quickly moved back to the colt laying on the floor, and with a kiss on the blank flank, which turned into a delicate bite with a swirl of the tongue, made him stir and rise. A desperate buck of his was caught in mid-air by Rarity's magic, which she used to pull him to herself by the leg, uncaring for his writhing that in all its temper did little to conceal the terror beneath. The mare wrapped her foreleg lovingly around his neck, leaning upon him and pecking on his ear, while her free hoof made slow motions on his quivering flank before moving under the tail and teasing the exposed orifice. Slowly, Rarity worked him up to arousal, rubbing herself against his back and buttocks, playing around with his defenseless privates. Mindful of his reluctant moans, she turned him around and whispered in his ear, ”That is just the way things are, darling.”

In front of them, Fancypants was mounting the filly, one hoof holding her head low, the other on her flank. With a visible twitch of the hips, he shoved himself into the little one, his member greeted by a high-pitched yelp and a spasm across the prey's whole body. Her brother cried out helplessly at the display, only to be subjected to another round of Rarity's rormenting strokes and a familiar, dreadful pain in his behind as she started sliding the beads back into him. The stallion, meanwhile, spoiled himself with another, deeper thrust that caused half of his stallionhood to be enveloped in the tight embrace of the filly's pulsing, tormented marehood. He let out a slight grunt, driving her head to the floor with his hoof, his eyes alight with rapacity. Soon, the room was filled with desperate shouting and trebling moaning of the siblings. Fancypants, after forcing himself between the quivering blank flanks a few more times, worked out a steady pace and proceeded to savour the impaled foal's stupefied trembling even as crimson started trickling down the curve of her hip lazily, creating a dark line crossing the blue fur. Another droplet of blood budded on her lower lip she bit senselessly, mixing itself with tears flowing richly from her eyes.

Every push into her sent a creeping warmth through the stallion's hips and a blaze of pain through her convulsing loins, forcing a frantic fit of flailing with her forelegs, the instinct to escape. The stallion grinned, pleased with the writhing of flesh beneath him, around his throbbing shaft, wrapped between his legs. He lowered himself, breathing heavily on the filly's neck before driving his teeth into it in a soft bite that was the first thing she felt which could be described as pleasant, shamefully so.

Another anguished, muffled squeal escaped her mouth, and Fancypants responded with a quickening of the pace which ravaged the inside of her and forced the despair out of her mind in favour of of blank, forlorn stupor. The stallion bit deeper, enveloped her, getting the panting, quaking bodies closer and forcing his tempo upon her, welcoming the swaying of the tired flanks and coerced arching of the back, losing himself and starting to feel, taste and smell her soft mane, her tender neck, her supple back, revelling in the helplessness of the shape below him.

The colt watched with horror his sister's expression growing more and more pitiful as she was unable to shed tears anymore and her eyes gazed absentmindedly into the distance, seemingly unaware of the pounding she received, their torpor broken only by the more violent motions of Fancypants', when her head jerked to the front and she whined weakly in between her short gasps for air. Rarity watched and listened too, as she stroked her marehood ecstatically, holding down the colt with her entire body between forcing him to kiss her on the lips so that she could suck out his breath and penetrate his mouth with her tongue. Her magic held the beads, ensuring his obedience as she drove them in and out of his spasming butt, giving him a stimulating massage of pleasure and pain.

Slowly, Rarity guided the colt towards his sister, nudging him delicately in the desired direction and making the beads stuck inside him spin excruciatingly whenever he opposed, causing him to ejaculate on the carpet in the process. Soon, the two foals faced each other and Fancypants lifted the filly's head, realising the mare's intent. Rarity  directed his face towards hers, and with a simultaneous shove from the both ponies, the siblings' mouths connected, one pair of lips shut tight in dismay, the other not really caring between squealing and panting. Rarity slapped the defiant colt on the flank and pressed the tool deeper into him, causing his legs to weaken and his hips to quiver, finally forcing him into compliance as he opened his mouth and with tears in his eyes returned the kiss of his sister, both letting out a muffled whine. The stallion and the mare watched gaily the redness of their cheeks, and quivering bodies, as if the two were made for each other. Rarity grasped the colt's aching shaft firmly with her hoof, and holding on to his head with the other, she stroked him painfully, attempting to make him come again. At which she succeeded, forcing his body to go through another orgasmic spasm, though this time his discharge was less than satisfying. Nevertheless, the sensation made him shake profoundly and almost bite into his sister in spite of himself.

Soon, Rarity got bored with assisting in bonding the twins. She pushed her victim aside, disregarding his shouts of protest directed as much at Fancypants as they were at her  ”And now I am going to join your sister,” she mused and approached the filly. Slowly, she moved her loins to her mouth, grabbing her by the head. She could feel the weak juvenile breath teasing her folds.

Fancypants pulled out abruptly, letting the filly collapse on the floor. His empty gaze met Rarity's, and something in it made the white mare shudder.

His lips curled softly. ”Ponies these days. I say, you lot hold little regard for obligations that are made,” he hissed.

***