Chapters Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
To whomever may find this journal,
I am Princess Celestia of Equestria, writing this entry approximately two weeks after my capture by the Caribou. Although I have been stripped of my possessions, I have managed to conceal this diary beneath a loose tile in my cell. I will try to update it whenever the opportunity arises, as a record of the crimes that Dainn and his ilk are committing, so that they may be judged before the law once we overthrow these invaders.
The Caribou invasion of Equestria came suddenly, and completely unexpected. I cannot believe me and my sister did not notice their preparations, nor the Fall of the Crystal Empire. I have replayed the past events in my mind countless of times, trying to figure out what mistakes I made, but with little information to go on and the guards being tight-lipped, I am completely in the dark. All that I know for sure is that their takeover of the Crystal Empire was swift and complete, and probably took place during the harsh northern winter. Somehow they kept up a facade, leaving us none the wiser. Regardless, the Caribou reached Canterlot suddenly, clearly well-prepared for war. I faced their leader, Dainn, in the central square, but was defeated and enslaved.
I still cannot believe the power he wielded; I sensed a magical taint about him, and suspect Discord had a hand in his ascendance. I was powerless before him, taken prisoner, and worse…mutilated and violated. My horn was removed by a fiendish contraption, a fate I later learned has befallen every unicorn mare they captured. My wings were plucked, and restrained in these horribly uncomfortable sheaths that seem to prick and cut into the skin. I was collared like a beast, and paraded like war booty through the streets of my beloved city, despoiled by my own royal guards. My personal humiliation I can bear, but I felt deeply for my subjects that suffered the same fate that day. I just hope that they can find it in their hearts to forgive me for failing them.
The brutal invasion and enslavement of Equestria’s female populace are testimony to the Caribou’s disgusting, barbaric culture. How they can treat mares, even their own females like they treat us, I cannot fathom. However, that clearly did not dissuade my niece, Princess Cadance and her husband, Shining Armor from joining their cause. Their betrayal… cuts deeply. I haven’t seen them very often since the Fall, but they seem completely different from the loving couple that defeated Queen Chrysalis not too long ago. Shining Armor has become domineering stallion, treating mares with disrespect and like objects to satisfy his sexual desires; Cadance has become a shameless harlot, openly indulging in pleasure and apparently enjoying the gazes of other ponies while in the throes of lust. It is so unlike them to act like this, and I suspect the corruption of the Crystal Heart into that obscene abomination has everything to do with it.
My own situation is wretched, and the loss of my horn is distressing to say the least. The Caribou have no intention of treating their female captives, even a princess, with any form of respect. I’m currently being held in the servant’s quarters, which has been converted into a makeshift dungeon. Stripped of my dignity, I am forced to spend my days naked, save for this tight collar that chafes my neck. The heavy metal ring only adds to the collar’s discomfort, and it has resisted all my attempts at removing the degrading thing; the Caribou’s strange rune magic must be at play here. My bed is now a pile of straw in a corner of my holding cell, which although better than the cold, stone floor pricks my sensitive skin. How I long for the comforts of my bed and bath!
The only baths I now receive are buckets of water thrown unceremoniously over me when these brutes deem me too filthy to satisfy their depraved desires, which seem endless. I am being raped on a daily basis for hours on end, until the stream of stallions and bucks pouring into my prison every morning are finally sated. They insert this infernal device up my rectum that somehow forces me into a heightened state of estrus; I am dismayed to write that all my attempts at resisting its effects have proven futile. It starts within moments - a heat spreads from my nethers, my heart races, and my breathing grows ragged. As my arousal deepens this is followed by the…shall we say, involuntary physiological reactions a mare in heat displays in the presence of a male. I can usually suppress the need to raise my tail to these vile savages, denying them the pleasure of seeing me present myself, but only momentarily.
Once the first member enters me, I struggle for control. I loathe giving them the satisfaction of seeing me enjoying myself in any way, and I am deeply ashamed of every moan that inadvertently escapes my lips, of the way I grind my hips onto theirs in those moments of raw pleasure, and of the fact that I… climax. Or rather, I am forced to climax. Frequently. This is my greatest humiliation, and is often followed by denigrating taunts about my nature. Orgasming fills me with great regret, but I must see them for what they are - involuntary bodily reactions, brought on by their perverted magic. I am unbowed by the Caribou having their way with me, but I must admit having my own guards violate me hurts me deeply. These are stallions I hand-picked for their loyalty and service, who I trusted with my life. To see them so eagerly adopt this culture of hedonism and barbarity is puzzling… where did I go wrong?
At the very least, I am not going hungry. Three times a day I am given a ration of mare kibble, as they call it. It’s a far cry from the carefully-prepared meals I am used to eating, being dry and tasteless. I am not even given the dignity of a plate and cutlery - the guard just throws the kibble onto the prison floor, leaving me to eat it off the ground with my hands. At first I refused to be treated that way, and left whatever food they gave me lying there, but hunger does things to a mare. Fluids are given to me in the disgusting manner I have come to expect from my captors. First a metal ring is pushed between my teeth to keep my mouth open, secured around the back of my head by a leather strap. This is to prevent me from biting as they despoil me orally, forcing their revolting seed down my throat. If they deem this deplorable act to have been enjoyable to them I am given a ration of water to drink, which thankfully washes away their disgusting taste. If not, I am passed on to the next willing male, up until their lusts are satisfied, or until they deem that I have swallowed so much of their essence that I no longer need additional fluids.
So far, these barbaric slavers seem content just to humiliate me, gloating in their victory. Although I can bear this appalling treatment, my mind is filled with worry about my loyal subjects, who are surely suffering worse fates than I am. My heart also goes out to Princess Luna, my dear sister who has also been captured and disfigured. I must hold strong for them, and be prepared to act when the overthrow of Dainn and his cohorts eventually comes. I am positive that resistance against our oppressors has sprung up. The ponies of Equestria will surely rise against such tyranny! My hope is vested in my faithful student, Princess Twilight Sparkle, to rise to the occasion and claim her place as one of Equestria’s princesses by throwing off the yoke of the Caribou.
Until then, I must be patient. No opportunity to escape has presented itself just yet; the door to my cell is heavily guarded at all times, and although my room has a small, barred window, the castle’s courtyard is heavily patrolled. Without my magic I am powerless, and reduced to attempting to sneak out messages for help. I am not aware of what is going on outside of the walls, but should a direct assault on the castle take place, the ensuing chaos would present a window of opportunity. Conversely, if the Caribou manage to consolidate their hold on Canterlot they are sure to relocate many guards elsewhere. Hopefully I will be able to entice a sympathizer to help me when the time comes.
Standing proud and defiant,
- Princess Celestia
Author's Note
Just a little something I felt inspired to write up, these will be short entries that are complementary to the Breaking of the Sun comic and some of the canon Fall of Equestria images on derpibooru. Hope you enjoy!
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
I am...not quite sure how many days have passed since I last had the opportunity to access this journal - has it been 10 days? Two weeks? During all this time I have been with Anvari, being forced to learn the basic manners of a submissive sex slave. I loathe having to relive the events of the past days in my mind, but the Caribou’s crimes must be recorded, so they may be brought to justice when the time comes.
The morning after the audience I was roused from my quarters by Anvari, and marched to what had formerly been the castle’s cellar. The Caribou are in the process of converting the place into a dungeon of sorts; a number of cells had already been constructed, and heavy iron doors were being set in place. I saw several unfortunate mares being held there, restrained and undergoing various forms of sexual torture. Many of them were blindfolded, hooded and gagged, and completely at the mercy of their assailants. Seeing my ponies being abused like that was heart wrenching. Their black collars indicate that this is a fate that befalls those of us who choose to resist - I think I recognized Spitfire being violated by a strange plant of sorts, although the great many tentacles slithering over and inside her body made it difficult to be certain.
From there I was led to a room at the back of the dungeon, where Anvari dismissed the guards and locked the metal door behind us. The cell was filled with various strange tools, instruments and constructs that I was not familiar with; I could only guess what debauched form of torture I was about to undergo.
Anvari then addressed me for the first time. He is a thinly-built yet muscular bull who is very tall in stature, even amongst his people. Like most of Dainn’s inner circle he is older than many of the foot soldiers I have seen - the fine lines on his face and flecks of grey hair littering his otherwise dark mane betray the onset of middle age. His eyes are are blue and piercing, and he bears a constant, stern look devoid of warmth and compassion.
He is apparently the Caribou Master of Bloodlines, responsible for producing the strongest offspring to supposedly ensure the continued existence of their kind. As a consequence, he considers females to be little more than cattle to be mated and bred for their physical qualities. He made it quite clear he doesn’t regard me as a princess, much less a pony; to him I am just a body to be broken, to be made to serve. This was exemplified by the fact that he wouldn’t even give me the dignity of calling me by my name, preferring the use of insulting epithets instead.
The savage then roughly forced me to the ground and inserted two toys into my nethers, holding them in place with a chastity belt. To my dismay, my vision was taken away by a blindfold that Anvari tied around my head, presumably to disorient me and reduce my capacity to resist. I had been dreading this moment, but it did provide an insight into Caribou culture. Unsurprisingly it was every bit as warped and barbaric a way of life as I have come to expect from them.
In order to impose their ways on Equestria, enslaved mares are made to undergo what the Caribou call “training”, so that they learn to behave in such a way that is deemed appropriate by these perverted brutes. There is a strict gender separation between males and females, which seems to be central in the Caribou’s heinous culture - males are the dominant members of society, whereas females are regarded as inferior in all aspects and expected to behave submissively at all times.
Mares are to acknowledge their place and are required to respectfully address males as “masters”. When greeting a stallion or bull, we are expected to bow deeply on our hands and knees. Each morning, I was made to prostrate myself before Anvari with my face and chest touching the floor, while keeping my rear raised up. In this humiliating position I was to greet him with the words:
“Good morning, Master Anvari. I am your humble servant, please use me however you wish.”
I was then to listen intently to his commands and follow them to the letter - or just left to bow until he was content with my degradation. Only when permission was given was I allowed to move and raise myself up from the ground. Not even then was I allowed any initiative - in the presence of a male, assuming we are not being abused by them, mares are required to assume this strange posture by kneeling, straightening our backs, and placing our hands on our knees. Furthermore, we are required to bow our heads in deference, submissively awaiting any order they might give us. No eye contact may be made unless commanded, nor may we speak unless we are spoken to. Every demand made must be acknowledged by speaking the words:
“Yes, master.”
As sex slaves, no order, no matter how vile or depraved, may be refused; a mare or cow must obey and carry it out immediately, without hesitation. We are regarded as nothing but sex objects, and may therefore never hide our intimate areas from the roving, lustful eyes of a stallion or bull - we are expected to proudly display our bodies without dignity or restraint, and are not even afforded clothes unless our masters desire so. Females in Caribou culture exist to serve the whims of the males, whether these are carnal in nature or not, and as such all our needs and desires are considered subservient to theirs.
These manners have been the focus of my own reeducation over this past period, during which I was subjected to this basic slave training from sunrise until sunset. Needless to say, I performed none of these actions willingly. I spoke my mind, rebuking the Caribou’s disgusting teachings and returning his disrespect at every available opportunity. But Anvari is a strict disciplinarian, and every perceived transgression was consistently met with prompt punishment. My wing sheaths caused me significant discomfort when that infernal rod was passed over them; other tortures the merciless brute seemed particularly fond of were the flog and paddle. I initially refused to comply, resisting fiercely and taking my beatings as well as I could. But over time pain…can cow even the strongest spirits. I found myself anticipating and fearing my punishment, and gradually caved in to his demands, albeit very reluctantly. It was obedience through pain compliance, nothing else.
In addition to behavioral training, I was also introduced to some of the Caribou’s twisted ideology, with which they attempted to indoctrinate me. At every turn, Anvari confronted me with the “fact” that mares are somehow worthless, inferior creatures that need to be enslaved and dominated to properly function in society. The fallacies he used to justify his views were how my sister and I were unable to foresee nor prevent the fall of our capital city; how the princesses were responsible for leading Equestria into peril; how easily I was bested and enslaved by Dainn, who is supposedly the strong male leader that will keep this country safe.
Nothing could be farther from the truth! Equestria was built on mutual respect and cooperation between the sexes, and our peaceful society was testimony to this. Anvari did not tolerate dissent however, continuing his rhetoric and brushing our achievements off as the ramblings of “a deluded female riding the coattails of males, falsely claiming the praise due to them”. Again and again, under threat of punishment, I was coerced into “admitting” my failures and weaknesses, and forced to “acknowledge” my place as a mere slave, and denied any sense of modesty and dignity.
In the obscene ways that I am begrudgingly becoming accustomed to, my reserved, noble way of speaking was severely frowned upon. Instead I was required to speak in the manner of a common harlot, or as they call it, a slut. To stimulate my moral degradation, I was forced to use coarse terms instead - I was made to beg to be “fucked”; my rear was now to be called my “ass” and my vagina, well, my “cunt”. The latter, rather humiliatingly, is also what I am to call myself when affirming my place. The filthier the language Anvari coaxed out of me, the greater reward I was given - in the form of pleasure.
The two toys I was made to wear were vibrators, magically enhanced to induce intense pleasure when switched on, or take it away immediately when they were switched off. This way the wretched bull was able to accurately mete out pleasure when I complied to an extent; whenever I showed any sign or resistance or refusal, no matter how subtle, he immediately switched off the vibrations. This often left me frustratingly close to the edge; only when I performed or recited my lessons exactly to Anvari’s wishes I was rewarded gratuitously. The orgasms I was forced to experience as a result were intense like nothing I have ever experienced. What kind of utterly depraved mind would invent such an enchantment?
The Caribou seemed to particularly delight in seeing me shuddering and squirting violently with climax, repeatedly claiming that I “moan and cum like a common whore” while I gasped for air and regained my senses. He continuously insinuated this was my true, repressed nature rather than the dignified princess I claimed to be - a lesson that I was forced to repeat often, after being made to thank my abuser for the “privilege” of being allowed to orgasm.
This demeaning method of conditioning continued relentlessly throughout every session. Even at night I was given little rest, presumably to tire me out and reduce my will to resist. After sundown I was strapped onto a mattress eagle spread, after which a strange opaque film was pulled over my body, sealing me in place and resulting in complete restriction of movement. Breathing was only possible through a tube Anvari inserted into my mouth; I felt completely helpless in this state.
Unbeknownst to me, my forced admissions were recorded, and replayed to me continuously as a method of indoctrination. With my sight and movement taken away, I was forced to focus and listen to myself, repeating my lessons over and over again. It was vexing, humiliating to hear myself grovel in front of my uncultured, savage trainer; hearing my own voice moaning and calling myself a whore, a cunt, a pathetic, useless sex slave not even worthy of licking his hooves.
I suffered through these brainwashing attempts until my eyelids drooped with weariness, and my voice recordings faded into faint background chatter. These brief moments of rest were not to last however - periodically my vibrators went off, waking me up whenever I fell asleep. Every time I came to, my voice seemed to drill into my mind even louder than before until I was forced to climax - after which this horrible, insidious cycle repeated itself until dawn.
It was hard to deny that this brutal treatment had its intended effect. As the nights passed I became almost happy to be released from the confines of my bed, and my state exhaustion made any effective mental resistance extremely taxing. Only after showing good behavior was I allowed a measure of rest, after which my grueling ordeal continued unabated.
Apparently satisfied I had learned some measure of basic slave behavior and manners, Anvari decided to temporarily return me to my quarters, where I have been kept in relative comfort for the last couple of days. I am dreading the resumption of my training, but I must stand proud for my ponies, and for Equestria.
Exhausted, sore but unbowed,
- Princess Celestia
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
Entry #4 - A glimmer of hope
I have lost count of the number of days and weeks that have passed. My reeducation has continued unabated, and although it has been interspersed with short breaks, the pace has been relentless. The past sessions have progressed somewhat; now that I am somewhat familiar with the basics, the focus has shifted towards discipline, disposition and following orders.
After Anvari coerces me into displaying proper submissive manners, I am typically given a set of simple but indecent, humiliating tasks, each of which has to be performed without hesitation or question. The lengthy, merciless pace of my training sessions makes it impossible to remember everything that has been demanded of me, but one task Anvari seemed particularly fond of was forcing me to present myself to him on my hands and knees. He frequently had to beat me with his riding crop until I could take no more punishment, and reluctantly assumed the posture he wanted. In this case I was expected to spread my legs and arch my lower back to raise my hips and tail, exposing my most intimate parts to him while keeping my head submissively bowed. Once he was satisfied with my posture, I was typically made to affirm my place as a sex slave, and forced to beg to be “fucked”.
Anvari seems to exhibit great restraint when it comes to carnal desires; only when I applied the right tone and choice of words did he oblige rather than punish. It pains me to report that he has…made me climax countless of times during this period. I must begrudgingly admit he is extremely skilled at pleasuring mares, quickly figuring out exactly what and how a female likes it from her response alone. Needless to say I fought my physical response fiercely, but my induced state of estrus made resisting orgasm a difficult, if not impossible task. Compounding the issue was Anvari’s incredible stamina; although he is not the most well-endowed Caribou I have had the displeasure of seeing, the sheer length of time he can keep going without releasing himself would be impressive under normal circumstances. Even when by some miracle I managed to suppress my traitorous body’s primal urges, he ensured I was given my reward by expertly working my sopping wet sex with his fingers, often pushing me over the edge multiple times with little effort.
The way he caresses my folds and strums my clitoris…by the Sun it is incredible. It disturbs me to admit this, but had me not been a barbaric, perverted slaver I would gladly have invited him to be my lover. But this is the heat, that infernal enchantment influencing my mind. It extremely worrisome how easily the Caribou can twist a female’s perception of this brutal enslavement. This cannot and should not feel as enjoyable as it does. I must keep thinking rationally, and not let their insane rhetoric influence me. However my body might react must be due to the influence of their spells, rather than me somehow taking a liking to this revolting treatment.
From what little I have seen when I’m not undergoing training, the castle’s guards seem as active as ever. As a high-value captive I am escorted to and from my cell under close watch of Orestes’ hand-picked stallions. They seem to be extremely well-organized, never leaving me outside their lustful gazes; thus I am dejected to report that no opportunity of escape has presented itself as of yet. Despite all this, there seems light at the end of the tunnel, however faint it might be.
Every morning, afternoon and evening on my rest days, the same guard enters my cell to feed and water me. It is Iron Lance, a stallion who had formerly been one of my trusted personal guards. I had on occasion caught him discretely eying me up before, but he had always acted in a professional manner and respectfully kept his distance. Not until the Caribou invasion did he show any actual intent of groping or raping me. Although he is clearly no longer the same stallion, I have hope that I might be able to seduce him into aiding in my escape, if not willingly perhaps unwittingly.
Anticipating his arrival this morning, I decided to take my chances and attempt to gain his favor. When he entered I bowed and greeted him like Anvari had taught me, suppressing my disgust at freely performing these demeaning acts. A few moments of awkward silence followed; I could feel his gaze creeping over me, appraising my submission intently, perhaps surprised at my change in disposition. I “respectfully” kept my head bowed, pretending to await his command like a well-trained slave - and to my delight he took the bait.
He praised me for finally embracing my training and seeing the greatness of Caribou culture, saying how happy he was to see that his princess was learning to accept her place. To feign my compliance I turned around and presented myself to him, inviting him to enjoy my body in the sultriest voice I could muster. Acting like this, especially knowing this behavior went along with my trainer’s wishes, felt revolting. Filthy. I somehow managed to suffer the humiliation, knowing it was for a cause. He greedily partook in the proceedings, sliding his member inside me without hesitation. I moaned loudly, pushing my hips backwards onto his erect rod, ostensibly to show I was turning into the slut they want me to become - in reality I was just trying to get it over with as soon as possible.
He took me roughly, acting out his pent-up, perverted fantasies on a mare once far beyond his reach. He pulled my head back by my mane as he mounted me, slapping my rear as he pounded away without restraint, calling me his bitch and slave. I entertained his indulgence by “eagerly” acknowledging his words, coaxing him to rut me harder - and edging him closer to the finish. It wasn’t long before I felt his member throbbing, releasing its seed inside me as he loudly groaned.
As he retracted himself I forced myself to perform something I have never done for any stallion - willingly cleaning his member using my mouth after intercourse. I almost retched from disgust as I smelt the mixture of ejaculate and vaginal fluids, not to mention the musk wafting from his unwashed crotch. But I managed to keep up the facade, lathering my tongue along his shaft and down to his family jewels as his penis retracted into its sheath. He grunted with satisfaction, commending me for “finally realizing that I am just another whore, like any other female”, and that I would soon “crawl around the castle on my own accord, begging any passers-by for cock like a trained slave”.
Little did he know that this was the exact answer I was looking for. If I can somehow convince him I am taking to my reeducation, perhaps they will grant me a measure of freedom, which will in turn open possibilities to send for help. In a strange way, Anvari’s repulsive teachings have proven useful, and I must admit that I used them against his cause with glee, however morally depraved my actions may have been. Although the guard was easily fooled, I suspect that deceiving Anvari himself will be a much more difficult task. Unlike most of his ilk he doesn’t seem to partake in wanton sexual lust and desire, instead preferring to regard sex, or rather as he disturbingly calls it, mating, as a tool, a means to an end. I will need to be careful not to show any obvious change in demeanor, so as not to arouse his suspicions.
My training will soon resume, but this encounter gives me renewed hope that I may yet manage to escape my bonds. I must steel myself and weather the storm until my opportunity arrives.
- Princess Celestia
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
My already dreadful treatment has just worsened. In keeping with the Caribou’s revolting treatment of mares and the violation of our rights, my cutie mark has been defaced. After another one of Anvari’s appalling training sessions I had the displeasure of meeting another one of Dainn’s deplorable ilk; an enormous brute of a bull called Durnir. He is an older male as evidenced by his greying hair, wrinkled face and rotund stomach, but is powerfully built with very muscular arms as a result of his position as the Caribou’s head iron smith. To my dismay and despite my protests, I was dragged out of the castle and forced into a cage, after which I was carted off into the city.
What I saw filled me with grief, for my loyal subjects and what Canterlot was becoming - a seedy hub of perverted activity no better than a common brothel. Stallions, now seemingly all converted to the Caribou cause, were wantonly abusing mares in the streets without a care for public decency. Shops that once sold beautiful artisan crafts had been converted into sex shops, their female owners undoubtedly enslaved and serving as some male’s personal toy. Statues celebrating Equestrian prosperity and liberty had been despoiled and knocked off their steles, making way for obscene sculptures extolling the so-called virtues of male domination. And where the banners representing a free, wonderful Equestria once hung I saw the flags of the new regime - my Sun and Luna’s Moon, in chains.
As we approached the central square the crowds thickened. The Caribou had clearly been preparing this event for some time, and the populace had been made aware. The rambunctious crowd was mostly composed of converted stallions eagerly anticipating my first public appearance in months, as well as mares that were forced to watch the proceedings. The horrified looks on some of their faces were gut-wrenching - clearly, I was being made an example of to lower their morale, for the purpose of pushing them closer to submission. How I wish I could have soothed their worries and fears, and encouraged them to be proud and defiant in the face of the enemy! Not being able to help my ponies in these dark times is perhaps my greatest regret, and something I hope to be able to make up to them in the near future.
Once we arrived at a raised wooden framework Durnir roughly grabbed me by the collar, forced a large rubber bit into my mouth and dragged me onto the podium. I was made to face the piercing gaze of the crowd as he held my arms firmly locked behind my back, spouting his crude rhetoric to make sure everyone knew the current state of affairs. I was stripped of my title of princess in a farcical ceremony, and my status was publicly affirmed as that of a sex slave, a mere beast to be turned into Dainn’s personal cock sleeve. To add insult to injury, the Caribou also stripped me of my name. Instead of Celestia, I am now addressed as “Sun Slut”, a denigrating pet name apparently of the king’s choosing.
Hearing my formerly loyal subjects jeering me and happily chanting my new “name”…cut deeply. But my heart sank even further when I heard Durnir’s gruff voice announcing that, as the king’s property, I was to be branded with his mark. I shrieked, panicking as I saw a guard carrying two branding irons onto the stage and placing them into a fire. But no matter how hard I kicked and struggled, I could not break Durnir’s hold on me. Within moments, I felt the sharp edge of his hoof driving itself into the back of my knee. As I fell forwards the bull shoved me face first into the wooden boards of the scaffold. I screamed and protested as a spreader bar was affixed to my ankles, preventing me from protecting my dignity; my arms were then forced below my body and shackled at the wrists, contorting my body into an uncomfortable and humiliating position.
I struggled against my bonds, fueled by panic, anger and fear. My eyes flitted from the fire to the crowd, imploring them for help, but I was met only by the sneering faces of those eager to see the spectacle play out. Durnir roughly grabbed my tail, lifting and tying it up with rope to expose my most sacred parts to the populace before giving my rear a couple of hard slaps, to the delight of the populace. Moments later I felt the all too familiar sensation of my enchanted toy being forced inside me. I was soon dripping with heat, something the stallions in the front rows were keen to point out - and left to await my fate.
The preparations were followed by a slave auction officially celebrating my and my sister’s fall, as well as the “liberation” of Equestria’s stallions from our “deception” at the hands of Dainn. Being restrained as I was I could only catch glimpses of the females they paraded in front of the boisterous masses, but it disheartened me to see mares from all over Equestria, as well as zebras, buffalos and griffons, all stripped naked, collared and in chains, a sign that Caribou power now stretches across the land. The auctioneer quickly whipped the crowd into a frenzy, extolling the exoticness and uniqueness of the selection of slaves now pouring into the capital. All of the females I saw bore marks of brutal abuse; many bore whip marks, piercings, tattoos and brands to indicate their new stations in life. One by one they were forced to face the throng of lusty stallions as they shouted their offers. The event had nothing of a civilized auction - it was a debauched meat market, involving shouting and fighting, with the winning bidder often climbing onto the platform to drag away his unwilling prize.
When the Caribou had finally run out of their supply of fresh slaves, the moment I had been dreading arrived. Durnir, to a huge roar of the crowd, announced that the main event was about to start. I felt my heart race like never before. I struggled wildly against my bonds as the savage took the now glowing-hot branding iron out of the fire. My screams of rage were drowned out by the chanting of the crowd, calling for their fallen goddess to receive their new ruler’s mark. My anger soon turned to fear as I saw the sadistic brute calmly walk by me, seemingly delighting in my helplessness. I felt the heat of the branding iron on my skin as it approached me. It was a horrible moment of sheer panic - I desperately tried to break free, hoping that the adrenalin would somehow give me enough strength to break my chains, but it was to no avail. Moments later I felt the burning touch of branding iron, being pressed against my right cutie mark.
It was horrible. Searing pain instantly radiated from my flank. I screamed in agony, as Durnir held that horrible torture instrument against my skin for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally pulled the iron away it left a black chain mark covering my Sun, a permanent reminder of my enslavement under Caribou rule. What used to be a sign of pride, a show of my special talent, has now been defaced, perverted forever into a symbol of my bondage. It is the most grievous of insults, and one I fear I will have to bear for the rest of my days - a point that Durnir was quick to drive home. I could barely contain my anger, both at treatment and at my own powerlessness to stop it. I only just managed to suppress the tears welling up in my eyes - I was not going to give the barbaric monster the pleasure of seeing me cry.
After a brief inspection of his work he stepped away, heading for the second branding iron that was being prepared for my left flank. The crowd roared at seeing my new cutie mark but I disregarded them, already fearing my second branding. Having experienced this appalling torture once only made the anticipation worse. I wrenched my eyes shut, feeling my pulse racing as Durnir calmly pulled the iron out of the fire, and approached my left side. I bit down hard on my bit, trying to focus on my breathing, anything to try and take my attention away from the imminent pain.
It made little difference. I shrieked as I felt the iron sear my left cutie mark like the first, leaving a perfectly mirrored, chained Sun as Durnir pulled it away. After making sure he carried out his task properly, cold water was dumped over my rear and a healing salve rubbed into my skin, which thankfully eased the burning pain. The Caribou brute meanwhile turned to the onlookers, announcing with a booming voice:
“Behold Canterlot, your “princess”, Sun Slut! Let it be known that this cunt, bearing King Dainn’s mark, is our lord’s personal property! Her fate is to be broken, to submit to our dominion, and to be trained into finest of slaves! Rejoice, for the day will soon come when she will happily satisfy all of your sexual needs in atonement for her sins!”
The males present once again roared with delight. For the first time I actually longed to be in my cell, away from the cheers, insults, and utter humiliation. But as I have come to expect from my captors, no celebration of theirs is complete without debauchery; it wasn’t long before Durnir removed the toy from me in preparation of my continued defilement. The fiendish enchantment had now completely run its course and I was soaked with heat, winking and squirting involuntarily at any sexual stimulus. The bull clearly enjoyed showing me off to the crowd, calling me a common whore and using my forced state arousal as an absurd justification for turning me into their sex slave. A shiver ran down my spine as he turned back to me. I can only describe the look on his face as one of unbridled, animalistic desire, like a wild stag in the height of the rut. He grunted like some savage beast, his nostrils flaring as he tore his loin cloth away, baring his member to me.
He was massive. Larger than any stallion or bull I have ever had. His rapidly engorging rod slid from his sheath, reaching full erection as he strode towards me. I shrieked, redoubling my efforts to break free of my chains - but to no avail. I soon felt Durnir’s enormous girth pushing against my most sacred orifice - and plunging itself inside me. I strained to take his penis, but he disregarded my discomfort completely. The antlered monster forced himself down my well-lubricated vagina, hilting himself with his first thrust. He used me like a mere cock sleeve, powerfully slamming his hips against mine without any care for my well-being or enjoyment. And yet…I was dismayed to find that the feeling of his colossal length thrusting in and out of me felt…intensely pleasurable. Once again, I was unable to control my traitorous body; moans soon started slipping from my lips, and I felt myself tensing up as I neared the edge - a fact that did not escape Durnir’s attention. He goaded me, increasing his rhythm and calling on me to cum before my ponies, to show them the slut I am becoming.
Despite my desperate attempts to contain myself, I am ashamed to report that I lost myself to pleasure…multiple times. Each time I squirted my shameful fluids across the scaffold, the stallions jeered and roared - and yet the beast kept pumping himself inside me. With every climax I lost more and more control; the voices of Durnir and the the crowd dulled as I started focusing more on the incredible feeling of the bull’s member inside my pussy. I eventually caught myself moaning coarsely into my bit with wanton pleasure, and only regained my senses when I finally felt the tip of his penis flaring as he approached orgasm. He groaned loudly to wild cheers of the crowd, injecting his disgusting filth inside me with each forceful thrust of his hips. His excess load spilled from me as he pulled himself from me at long last, leaving me trembling with pleasure in my enhanced state of excitement.
The way I lost myself to lust was greatly disturbing. Although I have become begrudgingly familiar with my magically induced state of heat and been forced to climax many times, never before have I…indulged in it like I did today. It was somehow…deeper than just carnal pleasure. For a brief moment, I realized that I was truly enjoying the domination, the humiliation, being used like a sex toy in front of my former subjects. It cannot be the result of my training. I am a princess of Equestria, dignified and proper; I refuse to believe these cruel tyrants are starting to succeed in twisting me into the harlot and slave they want me to become. I must keep rationalizing my behavior to keep myself sane - I fear that allowing myself to be overcome by my induced feelings of lust will only lead to a slippery slope that only furthers the Caribou’s cause.
Regardless of my state of distress and confusion, my ordeal was not yet over. Addressing the populace once again, Durnir declared my body free for public use until each stallion was sated, as a start of my penance. The guttural roars were deafening. Males started climbing onto the scaffold from all sides like savage beasts blinded by desire, abandoning what little dignity they had left. Those that still wore their trousers struggled to take them off in their rush, many stumbling as they raced forward; those that had been enjoying the proceedings naked had their erections on fully display.
I don’t know how many stallions had their way with me. They were too numerous to count, swarming around me like ravenous timberwolves smelling wounded prey. It was horrifying to see the crazed, lustful look on their faces. These were ponies who just months before had been kind, law-abiding citizens, corrupted into sex-crazed monsters focussed solely on claiming a prize normally far beyond their reach. As soon as a cock throbbed and emptied its load inside me, another immediately took its place. At times impatient stallions could not contain themselves, forcing themselves inside me before the other had finished. Many that had already their blown their loads would return to gleefully stroke themselves at my degradation, covering my body with their thick bodily fluids. The orgy was a blur of stallions, cocks and sperm, and I was brought to climax repeatedly, to the great delight of everypony involved. Thankfully I eventually blacked out after a particularly intense orgasm, but I doubtlessly continued to be violated until the crowd had been sated.
———
I was brought to by a bucket of cold water being dumped over me. I found myself back at the castle, being bathed in the fountain once again. I was filthy, exhausted and sore, but relieved to find myself in the relative safety of the palace walls. However, when I returned to my cell I was dismayed to find out I am now to be kept in a metal cage. With the Caribou deciding I have had enough time to learn basic slave manners, I am now to start my training in earnest. I have been placed in the care, if it can be called that, of Dainn’s master of beasts. His name is Hrathr, and he is apparently experienced in the taming and domestication of the various creatures that roam the Caribou’s former lands. He assessed my physical qualities as a mare and evaluated the progress of my training through some quick commands and taunts, smiling with glee whenever I snapped back at him. The disgusting thug didn’t even bother treating me as a proper pony, instead talking down to me as if I were a mere beast. He made it clear that I will from now on be seen as such, boasting that he had trained many females into willing, obedient pets and warning me that I will not be an exception.
I was locked in my cage for the night, where for the first time after all this time, I curled up and silently wept. The months of brutal rape and training I could bear, but being branded like cattle in front of my ponies, renamed with an obscene slave name, treated like an animal and kept in a small cage…the utter wretchedness of my situation was overbearing. No help has been forthcoming, nor have I had any indication that the Caribou are being pushed back by rebellions and active resistance; with no sign of relief it is becoming clear that my ponies will suffer under our oppressors’ yoke for a long time to come.
When I heard Iron Lance approaching my cell I collected myself, and awaited his entry by bowing as submissively as I could. He quickly noticed my sullen demeanor and surprisingly tried to console me - perhaps his old personality is still in there somehow. He opened my cage and hugged me tightly, petting my mane and comforting me in an attempt to lift me from my stupor. It was tempting to rebuke him when he told me it was part of my training, that the anger would soon make way for acceptance, and that it would make me a better slave. But I gritted my teeth and managed to keep up the ploy, responding that I understood and playing it off as the frustrations of a fresh cunt not yet understanding her place.
It sickened me to speak those words, but my act seems to have earned me his favor. To cheer me up, Iron Lance revealed he had smuggled in a slice of cake hidden underneath one of the plate covers. Although in keeping with my new life as an animal, he made me eat it without the use of my hands, he at least presented it on a plate rather than making me eat it off the floor. I was...grateful for his gift. To finally taste something other than that terrible, bland mare kibble was heavenly. I savored every last crumb of it, shamelessly licking my plate and lips until I finished all of it.
Iron Lance delighted in this, commending me for what he saw as me starting to embrace my fate. Whether he just attempted to lift my spirits from his warped point of view I do not know, but I did understand he would be expecting to be thanked for his effort. Due to my recent ordeal I was sore to say the least, but fortunately he seemed to be satisfied with me pleasuring him orally.
I will admit I am not the most skilled with my tongue, having often shied away from this more...inappropriate way of making love in the past. I had to force myself to overcome my revulsion and took the initiative, crawling over to him and rubbing my cheek across his loins to make my intentions known.
I barely needed to beg to be allowed to thank him for my treat. I could feel his pants bulge, and as soon as I pulled them down was greeted by his sweaty, pheromone-laden musk. The last thing I wanted after being thoroughly abused all day was to stick my nose in another stallion’s crotch, and I just barely managed to hide my disgust.
I tentatively licked his testicles and stroked his stiffening rod based on what little experience I have. Perhaps it was his excitement at having a princess sucking his cock, but it wasn’t long before he reached full mast. He moaned loudly as I took his member into my mouth, bobbing my head up and down rather awkwardly while using my hands in the hope of compensating for my perceived lack of skill.
Luckily Iron Lance doesn’t seem to have the greatest stamina, and it wasn’t too long before I felt his tip starting to flare. He groaned loudly with pleasure, pulling himself from my mouth before furiously stroking himself to climax while grabbing hold of my mane. I obediently knelt before him, keeping my mouth open as he unleashed load after load onto my face. After he finally finished ejaculating I swallowed what semen I could lick up with my tongue. I barely managed to keep it down, hiding my gag reflex by bowing deeply before the stallion, and thanking him for using me.
For a moment I thought Iron Lance would admonish me for my poor performance, but fortunately he seems to be buying into my ploy. He encouraged me to continue my training, calling me one of the most promising sex slaves he had seen, before coaxing me back into my cage. He then retired for the night...forgetting to lock the cage door. Unfortunately my cell door was secured as usual, but I was grateful not to have to spend the night caged like some feral beast.
My encounter with Iron Lance gave me renewed hope after a truly miserable day. The plan is working. If I can somehow entice Iron Lance to stay the night, surely the opportunity will arise to steal his keys and escape from this prison. My ponies are resisting, I am sure of it. If I can meet up with them, surely we will be able to wrest back Equestria from these savages and cleanse the land of their foul corruption. I will free my sister and restore our rightful rule. Then those vile barbarians will face justice for what they did to me and every mare they ever enslaved.
- Princess Celestia
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
A day has now passed since my branding and humiliation in front of my ponies in the city. The mutilation I have suffered under our oppressors was horrific, but now that my station in life has been formalized, my treatment has changed for the worse. I now realize that up until this point, the Caribou had just been toying with me, gloating in my defeat. But now my training has started in earnest; my “privileged” treatment has ended, and I have been processed like any ordinary mare would.
This morning I was woken up by the sound of guards bursting into the room. Rather than sating their carnal desires, they restrained me by roughly twisting my arms behind my back. A leather hood was pulled over my head, taking away my vision; furthermore, a ball gag was forced into my mouth to muffle my protests. In this undignified manner I was marched through the castle, down to the dungeon to be “processed”. All recently-captured slaves apparently go through this process to evaluate their attitude, physical characteristics, sexual talents and to determine their suitability to whatever modification procedures their masters wish for them. Mares are treated like nothing but cattle, property for stallions to do with as they wish - it is unspeakably demeaning, but nothing I haven’t come to expect from these invaders.
When we arrived at the dungeon I was lined up amongst several freshly captured slaves. My arms were shackled at the wrists and chained above my head, whereas my legs restrained by a spreader bar. Although I couldn’t see the other ponies, I could hear their groans and muffled sobs. They were mares captured during a raid of sorts, or so I overheard the guards saying. Although their gags prevented them from talking, these downtrodden ponies didn’t have to speak to communicate their terror at their impending fate. I felt pity for them, knowing the unimaginable horror of slavery that awaited them; my inability to protect my subjects was vexing beyond words.
I was snapped out of my misery by an unfamiliar, male voice. In typical Caribou fashion he looked at me as just another piece of meat, callously describing my physical features and scribbling down his findings on a notepad. I was formally registered as “trainee #27”, which along with the name of my owner, my slave name and planned designation was noted down on paper. My bodily measurements, such as height, bust size, waist and hips were taken and recorded in what I assumed was a profile of sorts. The degradation my loyal subjects and I had to suffer was appalling; being reduced to nothing but a number and only valued for my physique was horribly denigrating. But predictably, this would be the least of my concerns.
Having finished his administrative duties, the bull soon moved on to the physical part of the examination. He groped my breasts, caressing and fondling them to evaluate their sensitivity, perkiness, shape and size. He took note of my every physical reaction, whether I shook my body in a vain attempt to escape his hands, or let out an involuntary moan in response to a jolt of pleasure. Eventually focusing his fingers on my nipples, the Caribou worked them to full erectness. My response pleased him - I was earmarked as supposedly having “excellent potential to serve on the milking line, provided appropriate modifications are made”. My size compared favorably in his assessment, as he judged me “sufficiently large to pleasure her master with her udders, although extensive training is likely to be necessary.”
It was insulting to say the least, and if I could have lashed out at him I would have - but instead, I could only produce impotent, muffled screams as I struggled against my bonds. My objections were summarily ignored however, and the Caribou continued his demeaning examination.
Running his hands down my body, the bull carefully palpated my stomach, rear and thighs to assess my body’s physical state. Giving my behind a couple of firm slaps, he considered me to be healthy, but in need of a physical exercise program in order to maintain an “ideal figure in the eyes of my master”. I gritted my teeth at hearing his assessment. I have no intention of becoming Dainn’s perfect sex doll, but fear I will have no say in the matter. Regardless, there was little time to figure out how to thwart their plans, as the bull’s attention soon turned to my nether regions.
Without warning, the Caribou inserted his fingers into my vagina. I reflexively clenched down on him, trying to do what little I could to somehow keep him out of me - little did I know this was the exact response he was looking for, as he was using his hands to test my tightness and muscle control. Rather irritatingly, whatever I did just seemed to further the brute’s purpose; his fingers kept sensually pleasuring me, rubbing my clitoris and g-spot in all the right areas. I soon found myself dripping wet, and unable to stop the moans from escaping my mouth. Taking note of my wetness, the bull increased his rhythm, continuing to apply consistent pressure and pleasure to my sex. I was soon desperately trying to stave off climaxing, chewing down on my ball gag in an attempt to distract my mind from the orgasm I was inexorably being worked towards.
None of my physical reactions escaped the bull however. He soon focused his efforts on my clitoris, strumming my love bud with intense vigor. Despite my best efforts to resist I quickly lost control, much to the Caribou’s glee. With every flick of his fingers the pitch and volume of my moans increased; instead of trying to evade his touch, I now found myself grinding my hips against his fingers in an effort to reach the orgasm I now reluctantly, but despairingly needed.
I didn’t have to wait long. The bull’s objective was to conduct a physical examination, and as such he didn’t waste time teasing or denying me my pleasure. Sensing that he was about to push me over the edge, he increased his rhythm even further.
Rather begrudgingly, I must admit it felt heavenly. I shook violently as I climaxed, and my body finally released the pent-up pressure. My vagina winked uncontrollably, squirting fluids all over my assailant’s hand; in a moment of sheer lust I moaned shamelessly as I let wave after wave of raw pleasure wash over me. Only my restraints prevented me from collapsing onto the floor as the Caribou left me to note down his findings. Much to my disgust, he particularly approved of the volume of my ejaculate, commenting on how I would be modified and trained specifically to become a consummate squirter. How these uncultivated barbarians can consider this a desirable quality I cannot fathom.
But little did I know the worst part of my trial was yet to start. As I regained my senses my bit was removed, and promptly replaced with a ring gag, keeping my jaw opened wide “for the purposes of assessing my oral capabilities”. The metal bar holding me up by the wrists was lowered, and I was roughly grabbed by the mane and made to bend forward at the waist, awkwardly and painfully twisting my arms backwards. It was then that I heard the bull say:
“Would you like to do the honors, your majesty?”
I froze at hearing those words. The Caribou pulled off my leather hood, and once my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed that most hateful of bulls, Dainn, seated in front of me. He had come to appraise me personally, eying me up keenly and all too eager to fulfill the request. I screamed at him, attempting to condemn this usurper king for his vile actions. My gag prevented me from pronouncing words properly and it was all rather undignified, but I didn’t care - and neither did Dainn. Without as much as acknowledging my protests he stood up and zipped down his trousers, revealing his enormous, rapidly engorging member. The sight of Dainn’s penis, and the prospect of being violated by the bull who has caused all the evils that have befallen Equestria, was abhorrent. I screwed my eyes shut, fighting my shackles as the brute approached and cursing the quality of the metalwork that restrained me, but to no avail. When I reopened my eyes I was greeted by the sight of Dainn’s fully erect cock, which he promptly slipped into my mouth.
The taste was revolting - the salty taste of his sweat, mixed with the taste of other unfortunate mares he had enjoyed earlier in the day. I would have happily bitten down on his rod given the opportunity. It would be worth any form of punishment, but regrettably I could only grind my teeth on the metal ring inside my mouth. Dainn grabbed hold of my head, and to my dismay started pushing his rod ever deeper down my throat to see how far I would be able to take it; with each thrust of his hips, he made sure to force his cock further down to test my limit. Dainn’s lackey, a wiry, hawkish bull wearing a doctor’s coat and glasses closely observed the depth to which I was able to take the enormous penis, taking note of the depth of the bulge as well any gag reflexes being triggered.
I barely managed to take half of Dainn’s enormous rod - a unsatisfactory performance as a fully-trained slave is apparently expected to be able to orally pleasure the full length of her master’s stallionhood. As I hacked and coughed, the bull recommended I receive extensive oral training in order to learn how to properly deep-throat a cock. Dainn himself wasted little time however; as I was still catching my breath, the brute inserted his member right up my rear.
It must reiterate my intense dislike of anal sex. It is filthy, unbecoming behavior for a princess to engage in, and as such I have never allowed any of my lovers to defile me in such a manner. In addition this grave insult, Dainn’s member sliding into my behind caused me extreme discomfort - the past months of abuse have done nothing to change this. As he pushed his penis deeper and deeper inside me I cried out for mercy, but my pleas fell on deaf ears; the king was only concerned with my tightness and how to improve my sexual prowess. As he pumped himself deeper and deeper up my behind, he called on the bull to plan out extensive anal training, to teach me to enjoy anal as much as I supposedly love vaginal sex.
Then, with one rough, hard thrust of his hips, Dainn hilted himself inside me. I shrieked, feeling tears well up in my eyes as I was forced to bear the pain. I screwed my eyes shut, fighting back my yelps of discomfort every time his girthy member forced my walls apart, and was made to suffer through the sound of his hips slapping against my behind as he started thrusting ever faster. To add insult to injury, the rapist king soon started groping my rear. Running his hands over each of my cheeks, he commented to his crony how I was “one of the most exquisite females” Equestria had offered his kind - but also how my body would need to be “improved” in order to be worthy of being his slave.
I was shocked to hear Dainn wanted me become more voluptuous. Finishing his assessment of my buttocks and hips, he demanded that I, in his words, “develop more ass”. I immediately made my opposition known, but in response I was again pulled up by my chains in order for the barbarian warlord to have ample access to my breasts. The brute fondled my globes with his rough, calloused hands, squeezing them and getting a good feel of their shape and softness as he continued to work himself in and out of my rear. Not even one of Equestria’s finest bosoms was good enough for the defiler. In line with the Caribou’s tendency to rape, pillage and pervert, Dainn declared that my chest was to be developed into more voluminous, sensitive, and permanently lactating sex organs to please his fancy. His demands were preposterous, a debauched fantasy - but to my surprise, his assistant replied that modifying my body in such a manner was within their capabilities, and readily explained the various “treatment” options available.
Hearing his plans for my body enraged me. A princess of Equestria, being physically…altered into this wretched savage’s sex object! I can think of no more insulting, more humiliating a fate. What struck me, besides the seeming impossibility of their goals, was the casualness of the conversation. Here he was, an invader violating a head of state in the worst possible way, laying out his plans for her with supreme confidence in bringing his objectives to full fruition. Their methods to change and train me, no matter how insane and farfetched, were discussed like it were everyday business. Dainn seems to almost delight in informing me of what training he has in store for me, what he expects me to learn and how he wants me to behave - it’s a psychological game I must resist being affected by.
It wasn’t long before I felt Dainn speed up the rhythm of his hip thrusts - I could tell he was close to orgasming. With a loud groan he released his disgusting load into my bowels, filling me up with each revolting throb of his cock before finally withdrawing himself from me. Dainn clearly enjoyed his conquest, calling me his bitch; in a final command to his subordinate ordered that I would always need to be lusty in order to become a raging, shameless whore. As his sperm spilled onto the floor, I was made aware that mares can somehow be forced into a permanent, heightened state of heat, and made to suffer through demented cock lust for the rest of their lives.
It is hard to fathom how the Caribou would be able to change a pony to such an extent. I know of certain...physical enhancement spells but their effects are only temporary. Rune magic is the most likely guess, but it is entirely foreign to me. Dainn’s lackey did mention several substances apparently taken from the flora and fauna the Caribou have brought with them from the north; the notion of having my body twisted and perverted fills me with dread.
I did not have much time to ponder my impending fate however. Just when I thought my ordeal was over, the proceedings took a more sinister turn. Having finished their evaluation, the Caribou considered me ready to be “imprinted” - supposedly, the time had come to implant the seed that will eventually turn me into the king’s perfect, submissive pet. Dainn’s assistant retrieved a jar from a cabinet filled with a green, semi-transparent fluid. To my horror, it contained…a monstrosity. It was an abomination of sorts they had hauled with them from their frozen homeland. A writhing, crimson red mass of tentacles is the best way to describe it, an eyeless creature flailing its appendages at me from behind the glass as the bull presented it to me. Panic and fear overtook my mind when the bull started unscrewing the lid. Through my ring gag I screamed at him, my words ranging from threats to have him castrated to begging him for mercy - all of which were met with the cold, unfeeling eyes of a scientist conducting an experiment on some hapless lab animal.
The creature wasted no time lunging at me. It’s slimy feelers immediately grabbed hold of my head; within moments it had wrapped itself around my face. I could only scream as a thick phallus emerged from its body, and slammed itself deeply down my throat. Using its powerful arms it latched tightly onto my face, completely covering my muzzle and eyes. Panic and sheer terror filled my mind as I felt the tentacles force themselves into my ears, even my nostrils. I could not see, breathe or hear - nor move my arms to attempt to claw this disgusting thing off my face. Apparently sensing my heaving and futile attempts at drawing a breath, it soon released a torrent of fluids and odors down my throat and nostrils. I felt its member pulsating inside my mouth, force-feeding me the liquids it excreted. I was choking, drowning in its filth. But mere moments later, I felt the terror subsiding. Somehow, I calmed down, feeling myself relaxing and accepting the horror that was injecting its bodily fluids into me. Before I knew it, I had completely stopped struggling, let my head hang and passively suckled on the cock buried down my throat.
I had fallen prey to a creature from the “Hive”, life forms completely unknown here in Equestria. This particular specimen’s purpose was to completely pacify its host; to this end, it released a potent concoction of fluids aimed at suppressing conscious thought and escape reflexes. Having delivered its payload, the creature finally withdrew its members from my mouth and nostrils, allowing me to breathe. The effects of the drugs only intensified however; I soon found myself slack-jawed, completely unable to resist as the creature moved off my muzzle. It was not even that my body refused to listen - rather, I no longer wanted to fight whatever it was doing to me.
Keeping its tentacles firmly inserted into my ears, the writhing, organic mass now moved off my muzzle, and tightly latched onto my scalp. It felt like it melded into my skin, boring into my brain. Each neural connection it made strengthened its control over me. Any remnants of fear and resistance were quickly replaced with passive acceptance, and I soon had no choice but surrender my mind entirely to its will. I found myself in a strange but pleasant haze, unable to form any clear thoughts - I had been rendered completely docile and open to suggestion, ready for my imprinting.
“Listen to my voice, slave. You will obey your master.”
These words, spoken by Dainn, resounded loudly in my mind. A powerful, dominant, male voice.
“Kneel before your master, Sun Slut.”
Hearing my new name, one that I had hated intensely just moments before, now filled me with a sense of identity and pride. I was a slave. My name was Sun Slut. In my drug-addled mind, it all felt...right somehow. My restraints were undone and my gag unclasped; overcome with the desire to comply I immediately let myself fall to the ground, kneeling as submissively as I could. I had no choice but to obey this man. A moment of confusion crossed my mind as I remembered the hatred I held for him - I briefly considered rebuking him, but instead I almost involuntarily said:
“Yes Master Dainn, Sun Slut obeys.”
Part of me was surprised at my answer, as well as the absolute conviction with with I spoke these words. For the first time, I saw myself as truly subservient to Dainn. In my mind, he was my master, able to command me, his slave, as he wished. The experience was powerful, almost surreal. But I was given no time to rationalize my actions, nor do I suspect I would have been able to in my mentally altered state. The faint voices of the mares present seemed to fade away into the distance, as I started to focus on Dainn’s voice alone.
“Come, my pet. Take in your master’s scent.”
My master’s command reverberated in my mind. With my eyes still covered by the tentacled mass, I started crawling towards the voice that beckoned me. Following my nose, I soon zeroed in on a wonderful mixture of bodily odors and pheromones, and greedily inhaled the scent that I would normally find absolutely revolting - the scent of my master’s cock and balls. The sensation was indescribable, incredibly vivid. It was raw sexual attraction, all of my primitive mating instincts amplified and being brought to the fore. Every breath sent me aflutter as I felt pure, carnal desire take control of me. The closer I approached my prize, the more profound these feelings became; by the time I made it to Dainn’s seat my thighs were sticky with my own fluids, and I was breathing raggedly like a feral beast in heat.
“Lick, Sun Slut. Suck. Let your master’s taste and shape be etched into your mind.”
Hearing my master’s order made me shriek with glee. I buried my muzzle into Dainn’s testicles, lathering my tongue all over his family jewels. His taste triggered a range of powerful feelings in my brain. It was like a potent drug, a reward for finding what I had been biologically purposed to do - search out a perfect mate to procreate with. I moaned loudly as I ravenously inhaled my master’s musk, letting all the sexual feelings freely wash over me. In my parasite-affected mind, this bull was what I had always desperately been searching for. The creature attached to my scalp was forcing me to love this more than anything, overriding all resistance to its will. Neural pathways were broken and reformed in my brain; I was being manipulated and re-molded to become Dainn’s eternal consort, forever bound to him by instinct and flesh.
The horror of my fate, however faintly I was aware of it, didn’t register. Instead, I felt my master’s member starting to engorge itself once more, stretching its sheath. I felt intense elation as I felt his rapidly stiffening shaft emerging and brushing against the side of my cheek. Without needing to be persuaded I lathered my tongue up Dainn’s cock, and once I reached his tip, took it into my mouth without hesitation. Every vein, bump, curve and ridge was engraved into my memory as I started vigorously working myself up and down his length, sucking wildly and savoring its taste.
Enjoyment doesn’t come close describe my feelings in that moment. I absolutely relished serving my master like that. My whole world centered around him. Memories of past lovers, their scents, our passionate love-making, the little things that attracted me to them…these all seemed to fade into nothingness. It was like my preferences, desires and instincts were being overwritten, replaced with an undying lust for this glorious, powerful cock I was worshipping. The sense of utter subservience to my master’s dominance, something I could never have imagined ever delighting in, was overbearing. I now begrudgingly understand what Cadance was talking about when she spoke about “the pleasure of submission” - without justifying any of the Caribou’s actions, a mare out of instinct desires the most dominant, powerful stallions; and this nature was now being used to pervert me, to plant the seed of this repugnant sexual fetish.
Regardless, I was powerless to resist. Every time I felt Dainn’s cock slide up my throat it became more familiar. It started tasting better, feeling better. It felt so right. My oral imprinting was only interrupted by my master’s command:
“That’s enough, Sun Slut. Good girl.”
With a tinge of disappointment I released my lips from the king’s member, and as I reverted back to my kneeling position, felt the tentacles covering my head loosen their grip. Having expended its energies, the creature slid off my face and fell to the ground - but its mind altering effects lingered. Before me I observed what seemed like the most magnificent penis I had ever set my eyes on; and once I dared to look up, instead of a monstrous brute, I saw a stunningly attractive bull sitting before me. With a wonderful, deep voice he commanded:
“Get up, my slave. Fuck this cock you so desire.”
It was all the persuasion I needed. I eagerly climbed up onto his seat, straddled his lap and slid his rod into my well-lubricated vagina. The moan that escaped my mouth was coarse, primal like that of a beast at the height of estrus. It felt...extraordinary. Grinding my hips onto his member, I wildly rode my master, desperately attempting to sate my lust. The feeling of having his cock inside me was...intensely pleasurable. It sent me flying in a way I have never experienced before. Every single ridge and curve seemed to hit just the right spots; my pussy seemed to have been made just to fit his cock. Having my vagina stretched by his manhood, plunging into my deepest, most sacred of places - I am loath to admit it, but in my drug-addled mind it all felt so perfect, like I had finally discovered my purpose in life.
I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, pressing my breasts against his chest and staring deeply into his beautiful azure eyes. It was a powerful moment during which I was made to bond with my master - I do not think I will ever forget his piercing gaze. It was stern and dominant, and yet I also felt approval, and a hint of warmth and kindness to his obedient slave.
My unrestrained moans filled the room as I indulged in pure pleasure, to my master’s satisfaction. Having his hands feel up my body felt wonderful, and soon I could feel his breath growing more ragged. Dainn’s hips started meeting mine as he started pounding my pussy, as he commanded me once more:
“Don’t you dare cum before me, cunt. Know that you are mine, and that I control you utterly.”
I could only squeal as I wildly rode his magnificent cock, desperately trying to control myself as I was told. In that moment, the power he wielded over me was intoxicating. I was being ravaged by a powerful conqueror, and loving every second of it.
Likewise, my tightening sex was clearly ecstasy for the king, and soon his grunts turned to loud moans. Grabbing hold of my hips, Dainn started pounding me with intense vigor, hilting himself with each push of his enormous member. It felt heavenly, and I soon found myself clinging to the edge with what little control I could muster. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait long for my desire to be satisfied - with several hard, rhythmic thrusts my master soon released his full load into my depths.
The feeling of my master’s cock throbbing inside me and filling up my womb was wonderful, and only added to the incredible orgasm I experienced. It was earth-shattering, and for a few moments I completely blacked out as I was overwhelmed by pure pleasure. Not even my enchanted plugs could force me to climax with such intensity. If every session with my master is to be like this...heavens help me.
When I came to my body was still shaking wildly, only kept impaled on Dainn’s cock by his firm grip as he rode out his own orgasm. It was primal, animalistic, and in a moment of pure impulse I embraced this man, for whom I shortly before bore nothing but intense hatred - and passionately kissed him.
In a brief moment of tenderness he allowed me to taste him. As was to be expected from my state of complete suggestibility, I was not disappointed. Despite the perceived loveliness and bliss, Dainn only allowed this transgression because it served as further imprinting, solidifying the bond between master and slave.
When our lips finally unlocked I felt besotted, like a young mare finding her first love. The king’s command made it clear that this was no romance, however.
“Clean up your mess, my pet. I know you will savor the taste.”
Dainn was my master, and I was his slave. Obeying his order, I lifted myself off his lap and started lathering my tongue up and down his still-erect penis, happily lapping up the mixture of vaginal fluids and sperm. Normally it would have made me retch - not so this time. After I had cleaned every nook and cranny of my master’s cock, I was made to lick up the spillage caused by Dainn’s excess semen. I gleefully swallowed his bodily fluids, shamelessly licking them off the seat and floor like a famished animal.
“Good girl, Sun Slut.”
The king’s last words to me resonated in my mind. I felt proud, happy and lucky to have been chosen by him! This moment of bliss was rudely disturbed however, as I was soon torn away from Dainn. It was gut-wrenching. I needed to be with him. I needed to obey him. He was my master, and my purpose was to utterly submit to him. His scent, the taste, shape and musk of his cock had been etched into my brain, and will forever trigger powerful feelings of attraction, submission, obedience and lust. My imprinting was complete - I was Dainn’s mare now, whether I liked it or not.
As I was dragged back to my post I pleaded for a few more moments with the king, debasing myself and begging him to fuck his slave. To my bitter disappointment I was completely ignored, shackled amongst the other mares and gagged once more. Dainn got up from his seat, commanding the bull to draw up a training schedule to cover my development from a recalcitrant black collar into a servile pet, and left the room.
As the Caribou moved on to assess the next unfortunate slave, I was left hanging from my chains, and soon felt my faculties returning. It wasn’t long before I became aware of the other mares, staring at me with shock. They had seen their princess, the pony they hoped would lead them to salvation, willingly…fuck the monster responsible for their enslavement, and orgasming freely as she did so. As soon as I was once again able to form rational thoughts I felt intense shame. Once again I had let my loyal subjects down, and unable to fulfill my role as princess of Equestria.
The guards couldn’t come fast enough. Perhaps for the first time, I was glad to be led back to my cage, shielded from the dejected and disappointed eyes of my fellow slaves. In his final assessment, the bull considered me to have all the makings of a magnificent slave. Large, sensitive tits and a tight cunt, and an ass that would please any stallion’s eye. I am to be put through an intense training and modification program to fully develop my “talents”.
Somehow I am to become ever-horny, with a body more voluptuous than many a stallion’s fantasy could dream up. I am demanded to have a completely submissive and obedient mind, as well as being a consummate sex slave able to expertly please her master and perform any debauched sex act demanded of her.
The Caribou’s goal is clear: the utter perversion of my body and complete corruption my mind. I do not see how I can ever become what they want me to be. It seems like an eternity ago when we were at liberty, enjoying our lives like free ponies ought to; now I am a mere thrall, to be transformed into a shameless harlot expected to perfectly perform unspeakably depraved sex acts in public.
How they are planning to turn my body and mind into that of a perfect slut I dare not imagine. It fills me with despair, knowing that every day spent under the Caribou’s yoke pushes me inexorably towards the fulfillment of their designs. My subconscious mind has been altered, overwritten to develop a strong affinity for submission, as well as for my owner.
To what extent I will be able to consciously suppress the effects of my imprinting remains to be seen. It is my hope that we will be able to undo its effects, not just for my sake but also for the other ponies that have suffered this dismal fate.
- Princess Celestia
Author's Note
This took a while to get ready, sorry for the wait! Most of my time is currently taken up by the Breaking of the Sun comic, and unfortunately there's only so much time I have to write and draw. Hope to have the next few chapters out a little sooner!
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
With my basic training, evaluation and imprinting completed in preparation for the second phase of my training, I have resumed my reeducation under the tutelage of Hrathr, the Caribou beast master. He is a tall, older bull, as evidenced by his balding head and wrinkles around his eyes. His look is distinctive amongst his kind - his lifetime of experience in the taming of animals is evident from his broken antler and many scars, which appear to be bite and claw marks. Most prominent is a scar running across his left eye, an injury which has left him blinded. It is clear that this disability has not prevented him from performing his role within the Caribou hierarchy however. By his hand the ferocious war beasts were successfully incorporated into their ranks, resulting in a great increase in military strength. Likewise, I have seen strange, lumbering creatures serve as pack animals, and smaller dog-like creatures being used for their guarding instinct; who knows what other beasts and…things this monster of a bull has managed to domesticate. His skills aren’t limited to just creatures either, as I have had the misfortune to experience. Cows and mares alike have fallen victim to his foul training methods, which focus on bestializing a slave, modifying behavior and submitting her to harsh training, twisting her until she acts like and sees herself as a tamed animal.
It is to this horrid treatment that I have been subjected in recent days. When Dainn called me an animal and his “pet”, I initially assumed it was a figure of speech, a demeaning epithet. I thought being made to crawl and eat from the ground was just a perverted custom to humiliate a vanquished leader. Perhaps it was naiveté, but now I realize how literally the king meant his words, and how far the Caribou would take their training. Instead of forcing me to perform some ritual play, my training aims to permanently turn me into an animal in every conceivable way. To become Dainn’s tamed sex pet, my perception of myself and my place in the world, my behavior and the way I interact with others, even my likes and preferences are to be twisted into that of the most submissive, base animal imaginable. How the Caribou can treat mares this way, and how they ever developed such a depraved culture I cannot comprehend.
Every day in preparation for my training, I am forced into a perverse “outfit” of sorts to better immerse me in my new station in life. A tight-fitting, black latex hood is pulled over my head, leaving only my eyes and muzzle exposed; next I am made to wear strange, arm-length gloves. They are fingerless, making my fingers curl up inside into a dog’s “paw”; my legs are given similar treatment and fitted with thigh-high leather boots. My tail is then wrapped at the dock to prevent me from covering my dignity, and two toys are subsequently inserted into my crotch and rear. To hold these in place I am strapped into a micro slingshot bikini, with straps so narrow they barely cover my nipples and effectively leave my pussy exposed. Although I am in a way glad to finally be allowed to some form of clothing after all these months, the scandalous garment’s purpose is clearly to sexualize my body and make me look like a common harlot.
To complete the “look”, a dog leash is then clipped to my collar, and I am led into a specially fitted room to start my training under Hrathr’s watchful eye. What had originally been one of our wine cellars had now been expanded and converted into a pet exercise area, outfitted with the various equipment one would expect to find at dog shows: chutes, jump bars, raised walks and ladders, funnels and the like. Chains and leashes hung from the walls along with a variety of whips, crops and paddles; on the shelves I saw several indecently-shaped dog toys besides a selection of dildos and vibrators that seem ubiquitous in the Caribou training methods. Bags of kibble were stacked up in a corner alongside various cages, dog beds and bowls - I counted eight, presumably meaning there are other mares sharing my abysmal fate. The center of the room is an open space ideal for teaching “behavioral adjustments”; as untrained pet, most of my time is spent in this area.
Every morning I am let out of my cage and required to deeply bow before Hrathr, lowering my head to the ground and raising my rear and tail while I salute him as “master”. He then asks me to recite my name and position, to which I am to reply:
“My name is Sun Slut, Master Hrathr. I am Master Dainn’s personal sex slave, a worthless cunt to be trained into his obedient fuck pet.”
This admission is more than I can stomach, and I resist uttering it until I can take no more of that infernal rod torturing my wings. It seems impossible to outlast Hrathr’s patience - no matter how long it takes, he promptly and consistently applies punishment until he coerces me into reciting the answer he wants. My position has been made crystal clear - I am now to be considered to be a mere beast, by others and myself, and as such I am below even other slaves. The savage delights in driving this point home, referring to me as a “bitch” rather than a mare, amongst other demeaning names. As an animal there are strict rules for me to follow, specifically designed strip me of any form of dignity and civilized behavior.
I am explicitly forbidden to walk upright at all times; instead Hrathr obliges me to crawl on my hands and knees while he drags me around by my leash. To enforce this fundamental behavior my boots were infused with rune magic, and cause severe discomfort anytime I try to stand up. Speaking is now strictly controlled, and only allowed when I am spoken to. Instead, I am mostly confined to body language, being required to catch my trainer’s attention by rubbing by body up against his leg, wagging my tail to show “delight” and spreading my legs in various shameful positions to “beg” for sex.
The slightest attempt at resistance or refusal to perform a task demanded of me is met with a horrible electric shock from my collar. How the Caribou’s infernal rune magic works I do not completely understand, but Hrathr’s broken antler seemingly doesn’t prevent him from using it to the fullest effect. Compliance is met with the sound of a clicker, a training device usually used to teach dogs that they have satisfactorily completed a task - a fact which Hrathr made me all too aware of. This is coupled with the immediate activation of my vibrators, forcing me to climax repeatedly. Every orgasm is promptly met with a approving pat on my head, along the words:
“Good girl.”
It is a simple principle, a teaching method based on stimulus, response and reward usually reserved for working with animals. Being trained as such is intensely humiliating, and to my horror, also incredibly effective. Despite my best efforts to resist the effects, Hrathr has within a short period of time managed to condition me to associate the sound of the clicker with pleasure. The click, being called a good girl, the buzzing sound of my toys administering my reward for being an obedient pet…I’m finding my body is almost anticipating the impending climax. I’m doing everything I can to not give the savage the pleasure of seeing his fiendish methods take their desired effect, but my ragged breathing, copious squirting and winking cannot have gone unnoticed.
The humiliation of being treated like some feral beast is unbearable. The first days were seemingly endless sessions involving strict discipline, meant to ingrain the basics of my behavioral adjustments. The training was rigorous, and I spent hours at a time just crawling, obeying commands and debasing myself. The pain and fear of punishment soon caused my vigorous resistance to make way for begrudging compliance, if only to avoid the excruciating shocks; it wasn’t long before I found myself crawling behind my trainer, desperately trying to keep up with him as I was made to cum as a reward. The grueling pace was only interrupted by feeding time, which the Caribou have managed to turn into another appalling ritual.
Three times a day, I am fed my disgusting mare kibble, which is unceremoniously dumped into my dog bowl. At no point am I allowed any sort of dignity, and am forced to eat without the use of my hands like an animal. Needless to say I greatly preferred it when these villains just threw my food on the floor. To wash it down I am given water, but am forced to suck it out of obscene, cock-shaped water dispensers. Despite my revolting treatment, I am not going hungry or thirsty. Physically at least I am kept in good condition, if only to better serve my oppressors sexually.
Every night I am stripped of my garments, and forced into a full body, rubber suit. Only my nostrils, mouth and genitals are left open; a hood fully covers my head, taking away my vision and dulling my hearing. Before I am finally allowed some rest, three dildos are inserted into my holes. They aren’t ordinary sex toys however - instead, they are life-like replicas of Dainn’s cock. To my dismay, I can tell. Every vein, bump and ridge is present, the tip has just the right amount of flare, and somehow they had managed to infuse it with his taste and scent. The full effect of my imprinting has become clear to me. All the powerful emotions and sensations I had felt are immediately brought to the fore, and when the first toy is slipped down my throat I find myself greedily taking it in, suckling on this…glorious cock like it was that of a long yearned-for lover.
With the dildo in my mouth secured, Hrathr’s attention then turns to the remaining openings in my suit. Two more toys, identical to the first, are inserted into my pussy and rear. Feeling Dainn’s member enter me, rubbing along my clitoris…by the Sun there isn’t a more pleasurable sensation I know of. Even though I know I should be loving none of this, I am powerless stop it. It is an instinctive, primal reaction. Dainn, this degenerate monster, is twisting me, perverting me…and I am loath to admit, slowly succeeding. With every day the craving for his cock intensifies, and I have to repress my urge to offer my mouth and sex for their insertion. Once all of my holes are filled, my arms are restrained behind my back and my ankles shackled to my wrists; in this totally helpless position I am caged, forced to await the continuation of my training.
This cycle continued for days, and after about a week of basic training I was exhausted. I was tired, irritated and humiliated - but each outburst, each time I lashed out at the Caribou beast master in frustration I was summarily punished, and pushed even harder. Once I had learned to crawl, feed and obey to Hrathr’s satisfaction my training progressed to the next phase; I now had the displeasure of being taught my first tricks.
Sitting is similar to the hateful submissive pose, except that I am required to set my legs further apart and place my “paws” in between my knees. Learning how to lay down was the next step, involving laying my body prone on the floor like a dog. Rolling from side to side was next, along with being taught the “spread” command - laying on my back while spreading my legs and bending my knees towards my shoulders, all the while keeping my paws curled as if I were a dog. Under the threat of punishment I was made to perform these tricks over and over again, day after day. I smelled like some feral beast, filthy and languishing in her cage at night, fearful of what the next day might bring.
—————
To my surprise, my hood was removed by Iron Lance this morning. Waking up to seeing his warm, caring eyes instead of Hrathr’s condescending glare was a welcome relief. He gave me a quick scratch behind the ear before removing the dildo embedded in my mouth, telling me how proud he was of the progress I had made since my enslavement. Swallowing my pride, I thanked him as he stripped me of my latex prison, offering my body to him by rubbing my breasts sensually up his body. Not being able to resist he fondled my chest, before reaching down to finger my pussy as I let out the sluttiest moan I could muster - but he soon withdrew, telling me it was time for some cleaning and grooming.
After not being washed for what seemed like an eternity, the notion of a bath was heavenly. But as Iron Lance led me into the castle gardens it became clear that my relatively pleasant fountain baths were a thing of the past. Various prominent Canterlot stallions were seated in a semi-circle, their hapless slaves sitting at their hooves. I clearly wasn’t the only one being turned into an animal - these unlucky mares shared my wretched fate, and were in the midst of their undoubtedly extensive training to become slave pets or serve as cattle. I recognized many of them - Upper Crust and Hashwhinny were designated bitches, being forced to sit in the dog-like pose all too familiar to me. The former pop stars Sapphire Shores and Coloratura now sported enormous racks rivaling my own; their ear tags, brands, tattooed registration numbers and nose rings signaling their station in life as dairy cattle.
Fleetfoot and Spoiled Rich shared an equally miserable fate, being strapped in front of a cart and used as beasts of burden. Both wore heavy leather horse tack, sporting bits, bridles, eye blinders, harnesses and thigh-high boots; their arms were contorted behind their backs, forcing them to proudly display out their prominent chests. There were many others, some unicorn mares that had once attended my academy, pegasi who had aspired to become Wonderbolts, and earth ponies who once enjoyed Canterlot’s high life. These were formerly prominent members of Equestrian society, ponies my sister and I once entertained at audiences and galas. Now fallen from grace, they were nothing but lowly slaves, livestock to be worked as their masters see fit.
The black collars looked absolutely shattered upon seeing their princess crawl into their midst like a chained animal. I would have condemned the Caribou for our subjugation if not for the presence of Iron Lance. My ruse of appearing like a well-adjusted slave had to be upheld for my escape plan to work. Letting my loyal subjects see me acting like an obedient pet was gut-wrenching and no doubt crushed their hope somewhat - I just hope I will soon be able to make up for my mistakes and wrongs. Many of the red collars however, from their warped point of view, seemed to approve of our treatment; the stallions were particularly excited at seeing the royal pet put in her place for the first time.
Instead of having two attendants washing my body with sponges, I was made to climb a pet grooming table by a stallion named Silver Shears. He was a gruff working class pony, who before the Fall of Canterlot used to be a dog groomer for the rich and famous; once the opportunity arose he seized his chance, taking some of the mares he once served as his slaves. Iron Lance tied my leash to the metal arm of the table, pulling it so short that I was forced to hold my head up high and face the crowd. Silver Shears was clearly used to working with trained pets, rudely commanding:
“Stack, cunt!”
Letting this uncouth oaf order me around, let alone touch me was an unappealing prospect to say the least. Humiliating as it was, I had a part to play; in response I arched my lower back like I had been trained to do, lifting my tail and exposing my shame for all to see. I loathed the stallions’ response, many of which applauded Hrathr’s training and amused that “the whore princess is being turned into a slavish bitch”. Despite the plentiful insults they hurled at me, I felt pity rather than hate for them. It has become clear to me that these stallions were corrupted, their base instincts amplified to twist them into sex-obsessed fiends - something that I myself have the misfortune of experiencing. I wondered if the corruption could somehow be undone, and Equestria cleansed from the Caribou’s blight.
My train of thought was rudely broken by the rough hands of Silver Shears inspecting me. The stallion clearly considered me nothing but a piece of meat, handling my body and checking my folds like I was an object rather than a person.
“She’s filthy, Iron Lance. Covered in sweat, matted mane and tail…hasn’t had her armpits shaved in weeks, not to mention that cunt of hers,” his brutally frank assessment sounded. “Smells like she looks too. Are you sure the king wants a revolting bitch like her as his pet?”
I would have incinerated his cock on the spot if I could. After weeks of exhausting training that last thing I needed was this dullard criticizing my looks, even more so since I no longer had control over my own grooming. My deathly glare was interrupted by Iron Lance’s reply however.
“The king trusts Lord Hrathr’s training methods above anypony else’s, Silver Shears. It is vital for her development to be made to go through this phase, in order to consolidate her new identity,” Iron Lance replied. “Due to her former position and lifestyle she retains certain undesirable notions and behaviors that need correction. Isn’t that right, Sun Slut?”
It took enormous effort to swallow my pride and fury. After a brief teeth-gnashing moment, and to the crowd’s delight, I managed to utter:
“Yes, master. I am a animal in training, and still have much to learn before I am worthy of serving Master Dainn.”
“King Dainn sees great potential in this mare, and believes that in time she will become one of Equestria’s finest submissives,” Iron Lance added, gesturing for Silver Shears to get on with his job.
With a huff the groomer unceremoniously hosed me off with cold water from head to hoof. The temperature was most disagreeable, and I attempted to back away from the water’s icy touch as soon as it hit my skin. Silver Shears took particular delight in giving me a firm slap on the rump whenever I broke my pose, pulling back my tail and watching me squirm as he washed my nethers. He worked in the manner of a crude laborer with little concern for my comfort, working quickly and roughly to thoroughly rinse off my body. My mane and tail were given similar uncaring treatment - the hose, his hands and little else.
When he was finally done the stallion turned off the faucet without as much as drying me off with a towel. He reached into a bag and revealed a razor - the time had come to be shaven, and now the purpose of my training was starting to become clear. Iron Lance untied my leash, commanding me to roll on my back and spread. I had been forced to perform this hateful trick countless of times by Hrathr, and having to display my “progress” in front of a crowd was greatly vexing. Reminding myself to calm down and keep up the ruse, I slowly leaned into my right shoulder, let myself roll over, and spread my legs as ordered. The stallions spectating this farce of a show erupted in applause and appreciation of the beast master’s training skills. The humiliation was soul-shattering - I could do little but attempt to shut out the cacophony of laughter the crowd aimed at their former princess.
“Good girl, hold still now,” sounded Iron Lance’s praise, as Silver Shears lathered shaving cream over my pubic area. In contrast to his previous crude manners he now worked carefully yet efficiently, ensuring to leave my vagina cleanly shaven as per Dainn’s preferences. After working on my underarms the stallion rinsed me off and ordered me off the table, handing my leash over to Iron Lance. I was cold and looked a mess, but at least I no longer smelt like some disgusting animal.
As I shivered at the guard’s hooves, a hush fell over the crowd. From the corner of my eye I spotted Hrathr, that most despicable of bulls, approaching us. In his hands he held two chains, attached to the collars of two mares unlucky enough to have fallen under his sway. He paid little heed to their struggle to keep up with him, striding confidently into our midst. The stallions immediately rose from their seats as a sign of respect, standing at attention; the red collar pets bowed lowly in recognition of the beast master’s authority. Many of the black collar mares, quite rightly so, refused to acknowledge the Caribou lord’s status, only to be forced to the ground by their owners. The bull walked right up to me and Iron Lance, who saluted his lord.
I was mortified when I saw his two pets, who after having finally caught up with their master took up a sitting position at his side. To Hrathr’s left sat Fluttershy, or as she is now known, Sluttershy. Her eyes opened wide in dismay and shock to see me share her fate, before realizing her position and bowing her head, undoubtedly fearing Hrathr’s corrective intervention. It was the first time since the Fall of Canterlot that I had met one of the Elements of Harmony, and seeing her red collar and wing sheaths shook me to the core. Her willing cooperation with the occupying forces was, in a way, bitterly disappointing but not surprising. Fluttershy has always been a kind soul, eager to please and unlikely to put up much of a resistance against the brute force of the Caribou. I suppose it is in her nature to submit to our oppressor’s wishes, rather than face unrelenting punishment. Yet one of my hopes is that Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student, will be able to rally the other free ponies, gather the Elements of Harmony and cleanse the Caribou taint from our lands. Although this hope has not quite been crushed, Fluttershy’s enslavement and her close association with a Caribou Lord does pose a significant obstacle to this plan.
The look on Fleur-de-Lis’ face was altogether different. She sat to Hrathr’s left, and met my stare with devious eyes, seemingly happy to see me suffering under the yoke of the Caribou and put into what she deemed to be my proper place. In her former life she had been a prominent socialite in Canterlot, but after that fateful day quickly emerged as an ardent collaborator with the new regime. Whispers I overheard on the grapevine say she played a crucial role in the assault of the city, somehow enabling the invaders to bypass our defenses, before aiding in the enslavement and subjugation of many of her fellow mares in the chaos that ensued. For her aid and willing submission she received the pet name “Suceur”, undergoing thorough training under some of the Caribou’s most prominent slave masters and becoming a symbol of subservience to red collar mares. Whether or not these rumors are true I do not know - and I did not have the opportunity to find out.
“Has this cunt been behaving herself, guard?” Hrathr asked Iron Lance as he gave me his usual condescending gaze .
“Yes, Lord Hrathr. Sun Slut has been taking to her training, and is rapidly embracing her destiny as an obedient slave. I would say it won’t be long until she rivals Lord Shining Armor’s mare,” Iron Lance replied proudly, giving me a glancing smile.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Hrathr retorted snidely, giving Iron Lance a piercing stare before turning his attention towards me. “It’s time you learnt some proper manners, bitch. I’ve brought you some well-trained examples to teach you how to behave in the presence of other beasts.”
His words filled me with dread. Evidently there was an entire set of rules and mannerisms I would be required to learn when it comes to interacting with other pets - and as the lowest of slaves, my position is that of a submissive bitch. As such I am required to assume a passive demeanor, letting others approach me while presenting myself to them. Despite the deplorable humiliation of having to engage in another show of public indecency, I could only do as told under Iron Lance’s watchful eye. At Hrathr’s command, I bowed my head, turned around and lifted my soaked tail to the side, presenting my rump to the two trained slaves. Both red collars raised their hips off the ground instantly at my cue, standing at attention on all fours.
“I see you are eager to meet another one of your fellow bitches.” Hrathr commented, giving his approval of their exuberance with a scratch behind their ears.
I looked at the girls with apprehension. Fluttershy eyed me up lustfully, wagging her tail in a humiliating show of excitement. Fleur-de-Lis played her part perfectly, pulling on her chain and whining like a dog to be allowed to greet me. Their breathing was ragged with anticipation, and they hung their tongues out of their mouths as they panted like animals. Clear fluids splattering on the ground between their legs showed that they were heavily aroused by acting like they did. Whether they had come to enjoy the humiliation or derive pleasure from being dominated I do not know, but judging by their behavior and how sexually twisted they had become it was quite apparent that Hrathr has had a hand in their training for quite some time now.
“Greet the cunt, my slaves,” Hrathr ordered as he let go of both girls’ chains. “Teach the bitch her place in the pecking order.”
Fleur-de-Lis rushed at me as soon has she could, closely followed by Fluttershy as she tried to keep up. It was disconcerting enough to see two ponies turned into perverted caricatures of what they once were, but most disturbing to me were their animalistic grunts and hoarse breaths, which were more beast-like than pony. Uncertain of what to expect I attempted to shy away from the sex-crazed mares crawling towards me, but Iron Lance anticipated my move. With a prompt tug at my leash he ordered me to hold my pose as the girls started rubbing their bodies against mine, nuzzling and sniffing me all over in a highly choreographed ritual. Although the play superficially resembled the behavior of animals, the farcical “etiquette” was highly sexualized and nothing but a product of a debauched Caribou mind.
From what I could spy from underneath my mane, Fluttershy had been the subject of some significant body modification. Her figure was much more voluptuous than I remember - although she had always been well-endowed her breasts seemed much larger, and her rump much fuller than before. Her nipples were pierced in the manner of slaves, bearing silver studs, and as a willing slave her body was neatly kept and groomed. The yellow pegasus’ body had been defaced by a rune she bore on her pubic mound, a mark that serves as a permanent sign of Hrathr’s ownership and her status as an animal slave, not dissimilar to my own branded cutie mark. I felt pity for her, having suffered similar physical disfigurement at the hands of our oppressors myself. Our eyes met once more when Fluttershy gave my bowed head a gentle nudge with her nose as she came in for a sniff. I looked at her with pleading eyes, hoping to see some of her old personality preserved rather than a mindlessly obedient sex slave slipping down the road of depravity and lust. For a moment she seemed to acknowledge my empathy and distress, briefly looking at me with the kindness that was her wont as one of the Elements of Harmony - before reverting to the act she had been trained to perform.
Fleur on the other hand was a mare completely absorbed in her new station in life. Blessed with a magnificent physique, there were no outward signs of any physical changes she had undergone. Her naturally voluptuous body, ample bosom and full rump had won the admiration of many a stallion even before the Fall of Canterlot. Beyond Hrathr’s rune etched into her skin and a heavy set of rings adorning her nipples and clitoris, her master evidently saw little that needed improving. The Caribou reward compliance and acceptance however, and as such there is little doubt that she received extensive training and pleasure for her submission, in whatever debauched manner she now prefers.
Unlike Fluttershy who seems to show glimpses of her old character, nothing remained of what had once been a glamorous pony, famed for her beauty amongst Canterlot’s rich and famous. Instead I saw a mare who had embraced her enslavement from the start, and had willingly accepted the fate chosen for her by her masters. She had become an animal in mind and soul, acting out Hrathr’s teachings as perfectly as she could and obeying his every whim. Cadance is the only other mare that I know of who has abandoned herself to submission so completely, although to be fair my interactions with red collar slaves has been limited. How popular this sentiment is amongst Equestria’s female populace I do not know, but I suspect that many mares who entered into willing bondage still retain some of their former personalities, at least at this early stage of foreign dominion. But it is clear that Caribou slave training can be incredibly pervasive, and I fear that the longer we take to rid ourselves of the invaders’ yoke, the more difficult it will be to reverse its effects.
Fluttershy is a prime example of this - she seems to exhibit little of her former shyness, openly flaunting her body and acting like a dog in front of other ponies as is becoming of a pet slave. Hrathr’s hand in her behavioral modification is obvious, and she clearly is already aroused by and enjoys her own perversion. Continued reeducation and training will likely result in irreversible changes in personality, which leads to the horrifying prospect that we may be unable to save those ponies without the mental fortitude to resist - and this section of the populace will only increase as time passes.
Sniffing me like an animal, Fleur-de-Lis made various beast-like grunts, taking in the scent of my breath and mane before homing in on my rump. Inspecting my exposed vagina, she inhaled deeply several times before excitedly circling me. Unsure of what to expect of the spectacle unfolding before me, I kept as still as I could; Fleur soon mounted me in a display of canine dominance, placing her paws on my back and barked to catch her master’s attention.
“Roll, Sun Slut,” Hrathr commanded, snapping me to attention. “Spread your legs. A more-important female wants to familiarize herself with the taste and scent of her submissive bitch.”
The purpose of performing my tricks now became clear to me - I was being made to assume the position of a bitch submitting to my fellow pet slaves, cementing my place as the lowest of beasts. At Hrathr’s prompting, I rolled onto my back, holding my “paws” up like a dog while spreading my legs and stretching my knees towards my shoulders, like I had practiced many times before. Fleur almost immediately plunged her muzzle into my sex. I barely managed to stifle an involuntary moan as she wildly started eating me out, vigorously lapping her tongue along my sensitive slit while letting out more savage grunts. Every lick of her tongue along my labia sent waves of electric pleasure surging through my body, gradually breaking down my ability to control my body and suppress my lust. Fleur’s experience with mares was evident from the way she kept a close eye on my physical reactions and moans, adjusting her pressure and rhythm accordingly as she quickly figured out exactly how I liked it. It wasn’t long before I felt myself involuntarily grinding my hips onto the white mare’s face. Fleur immediately picked up on this physical cue, rewarding my moment of indulgence with a teasing flick of her tongue over my clitoris. To my embarrassment, and to the crowd’s amusement, I let out a loud squeal of arousal.
“I knew you were that kind of mare,” Hrathr said with a sneer on his face. “Excellent. It’ll make it all the easier to train you, Sun Slut. I initially doubted you would be much use to us, being a haughty bitch used to a comfortable life, but I can now see the king was right about making you his pet. Your potential as a sex slave is unmatched.”
I was too focused on trying to control my traitorous body to give the brute a retort. As a dignitary I have always been required to maintain a clean public image; as such I have never entered in lesbian relations, nor have I experienced its attraction. Having another mare violate my sanctity felt highly indecent - having to orally pleasure another mare was a greater taboo entirely. Slaves are expected to perform mare-on-mare sex wantonly however, for their owner’s enjoyment if not for their own. Those inexperienced in it are subjected to extensive training to develop the necessary skills, and even the most resistant mare is likely to develop a strong affinity for it. Now my turn had come to learn how to eat out another mare’s pussy, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Fluttershy, having initially contented herself by sniffing and licking my face, now approached me from above. Her breathing was ragged, and by the excited squeals and copious fluids flowing down her thighs I could tell she was highly aroused, whether from anticipation or her performance. Straddling my upper body, she carefully positioned her vagina over my muzzle. Fluttershy was kept clean shaven, revealing the dark skin of her puffy labia underneath; she was winking wildly and probably as wet as I’ve ever seen a mare. Strands of her secretions lathered across my face as my mind raced, trying frantically think of ways to escape this perverted act. It was to no avail though; moments later the yellow pegasus lowered her hips onto my face, pressing her genitals onto my muzzle.
My first taste of another mare’s private parts was not a pleasant one, at least initially. Her scent and taste were overwhelming. I could tell she was at the height of estrus - her labia and clitoris were engorged with arousal, each wink of her vagina giving me a waft of pheromones along with frequent squirts of her fluids. It felt filthy. At least she was kept in better shape than I had been; her sex was clean-shaven, and probably as clean as it could be. I detected only a faint taste of cum, undoubtedly from usage earlier in the morning; her slightly sour aftertaste betrayed the fact that she was frequently servicing many different stallions however, something she clearly had been forced to do for some time.
“Lick, Sun Slut. Memorize Sluttershy’s scent and taste. A well-trained animal can tell ponies apart with her nose and tongue alone,” Hrathr’s harsh voice sounded from beyond the globes of the plump rear bearing down on my face. Fluttershy was now grinding her drenched snatch onto my mouth, hoping to induce a response. To her delight I somehow managed to overcome my reservations and give her a few tentative licks with my tongue, realizing that my only way out of this predicament was to make her climax.
It was all highly indecent. Here I was, a princess, stark naked and on all fours like a beast, publicly engaging in a lesbian threesome. The stallions surrounding us jeered, yelling obscenities at us - some had taken to stroking themselves at the utterly depraved scene playing out before them, whereas others had commanded their slaves to pleasure their cocks. Every part of my rational mind screamed at me, telling me this was wrong, how I shouldn’t be enjoying this and that I had to resist the effects of my training. And yet…I found myself grinding my cunt onto Fleur-de-Lis’ face, moaning like a whore at every lap of her tongue. It wasn’t long before I found myself muzzle-deep in Fluttershy’s sex, frantically flicking my tongue over her clit as I lost myself to pleasure.
I tried to rationalize it, telling myself I was suffering the aftereffects of being forced into heat by my enchanted plug, or how they had slipped an aphrodisiac into my food this morning. But whatever farfetched reason I came up with, I knew I was just trying to deceive myself. I wasn’t wearing my anal plug, nor had I been fed my breakfast when Iron Lance came to my cell. Somehow, deep down…I enjoyed what I was doing. What I was becoming.
Reacting to my wanton, hoarse moans of lust, Fleur focused her attention to my clitoris, pleasuring my love bud with increased intensity and vigor. Drawing her desired response from me, I felt her grab hold of my legs and force herself onto me, intent on pushing me over the edge. The crowd cheered as I let out a squeal of lust, overcome by the sudden increase in intensity. In that moment, I lost what little control I had left. I could probably have broken away from the girls and taken my punishment, denying Hrathr and his traitorous stallions the pleasure of seeing me act like the mare-loving whore. But desire took over my senses, and reaching orgasm was now the only thing on my mind. I felt my body tensing up as the pressure built up inside me, pushing me ever closer to climax. It was filthy sex, taboo. It was so wrong, so unbecoming of a princess. And yet…part of me wanted those men to see me like that. It made me feel dirty, like a debauched slut indulging shamelessly in forbidden pleasures. But it felt…wonderful.
Fleur-de-Lis was now chin-deep inside my muff, lapping passionately at my clit. In the throes of lust I abandoned what little dignity I had left, moaned without restraint and thoroughly enjoyed every flick of Fleur’s tongue. It wasn’t long before my first climax ravaged my body. I felt my body shuddering wildly, twisting involuntarily as raw pleasure coursed through my body - but the girls had me pinned down, and weren’t going to let me go without completing the “formalities”.
Intent on getting her satisfaction, Fluttershy pressed her ample rump onto me, signaling for me to resume my duties. With each lick of her vagina I was getting more and more used to the act, her taste and scent. Soon I was eating her out as passionately as Fleur was pleasuring me. Even without prior experience in cunnilingus I almost instinctively knew what to do, lapping my tongue over her slit and love bud, and adjusting my speed and intensity according to her cues. Her moans and squeals told me she was no longer anything like the shy mare I used to know - it was unrestrained, outright whorish, and she was quite clearly enjoying not just the act but also the covetous gaze of the crowd. It was sloppy, passionate sex, and soon she was grinding herself wildly onto my face. I responded in kind, grabbing hold of her hips and furiously pleasuring her engorged clitoris - and I wasn’t going to stop until she finished.
In the meantime Fleur continued mercilessly working my pussy, rapidly building me up to my next orgasm. Fluttershy came first - her inner thighs squeezed down on me as her body tensed up, squirting her fluids all over me. Under normal circumstances it would have been utterly disgusted by the notion of tasting and smelling another mare’s ejaculate. I was too indulged in lust to think rationally, as Fleur rewarded me for my efforts by making me climax once more. The second orgasm was more powerful than the first - as the violent shakes and shocks of pleasure overtook me I briefly blacked out from sensory overload. The stallion’s cheers and jeers, the humiliation, depravity and indecency of it all - in that moment none of it it mattered. It was…pure bliss.
As I regained my senses, I was left to introspect. Deep, intense shame was the first feeling that struck me, along with confusion. I had let my carnal desires get the better of me, displaying my private side for all to see - above all it must have damaged the morale of the black collar mares observing the scene. Many must still look to us princesses for salvation; we are supposed to be unmovable, strong and dignified, not whores corrupted and manipulated by their master’s will. How could I possibly have enjoyed this? Lesbianism, exhibitionism and pet play most certainly weren’t things I would previously have experimented with, let alone indulged in.
But openly displaying my promiscuous side to the crowd felt strangely liberating, and somehow…empowering? As a princess, I have always had to carry myself with the standing and composure expected of royalty. Lovemaking has always been a strictly private affair, and courting conducted according to the principles dictated by etiquette. Suitors were limited to a relatively small, elite selection of society. This left little room to express the carnal desires a mare feels during heat. Now I find myself in a situation where raw lust and pleasure rule; although the conditions to which mares are subjected are of course abhorrent, ponies are free from the old societal restraints. All the stallions present looked at me with covetous eyes, their looks and actions leaving little doubt of their intentions if they were given free reign with me. Many of these men were handsome, powerful, wealthy and held considerable status even in the old Equestria, and would have been considered desirable partners for any mare under normal circumstances. Satisfaction can now be had more easily than ever before - if a mare chooses to accept it.
All in all it was a deeply confusing sexual experience I most likely would not have had without being enslaved - not that I was going to thank Hrathr for expanding my horizons anytime soon. Undoubtedly the Caribou’s goal is to make me doubt myself and my sexuality, for the purposes of breaking down the mental barriers I have built up. I have become all too familiar with the methods the Caribou use to twist their slaves into utterly depraved sluts; I must be on guard at all times to prevent myself from being corrupted and affected further. If my walls crumble, it is a slippery slope down into a sexual madness I doubt one can fully recover from.
Our ordeal was far from over however; my initial encounter with the girls was followed by further training and discipline as Hrathr gave a clinic, explaining to those present how to raise a recalcitrant mare into properly behaved pet. After what seemed like an eternity, I was famished. I hadn’t had my breakfast in the morning, and my stomach growled with hunger. Fortunately, if it can be called as such, feeding time had arrived.
Three dog bowls were laid out, which had each of our pet names written on them in large, white letters. It was disturbing to see Fleur and Fluttershy barking and wagging their tails excitedly upon seeing their bowls being filled with mare kibble. They were now corrupted caricatures of their former selves, utterly subservient and perverted to the extent that they thoroughly enjoyed acting like mere animals. Before laying eyes on these two girls I had naively thought it impossible for anypony to truly become a trained pet like Hrathr intended, but here I was presented with two mares that seemingly wanted to be bitches. They saw themselves as dogs. They enjoyed being dogs.
“Sit, cunts,” Hrathr ordered, giving the girls’ chains a firm tug to bring them back in line. Both immediately complied, excitedly looking at their master for permission to approach their food. Upon his cue, both mares rushed forwards, unabashedly chewing down on their feed like starving beasts.
I would, and should have resisted. But hunger drives a mare to do desperate things. Without thinking I followed in Fluttershy’s hoofsteps, only to feel the harsh tug of my leash jerking my collar against my throat.
“Sit, Sun Slut,” Hrathr commanded with a stern tone. “Submissive bitches feed last.”
The message was clear: these girls were receiving preferential treatment for their obedience, submission and acceptance of their new station in life, and as a slave of lower rank I would have to defer to them at all times.
I reluctantly sat down at Hrathr’s hooves, assuming the dog-like position I had been trained to perform. Physically I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted was being made to go through another of his reeducation sessions on an empty stomach.
“Good girl. Now bark,” Hrathr continued, as he gave me domineering gaze.
Horror and indignation filled me in equal measure upon hearing his words. Being forced to crawl on my hands and knees was one thing, but being made to bark like an actual dog was a whole new level of humiliation altogether.
“Bark like the bitch you are, or you won’t be allowed to feed,” the brute spoke once more upon noticing my refusal to obey his order.
Inside, I was burning with rage. My eyes flitted towards Iron Lance, who bore an eager look of encouragement. His presence prevented any opportunity for me to fight my trainer. For my escape plan to work, I had to show him willingness to accept my place. I had no choice.
“…woof,” I uttered, hanging my head to hide my shame.
“Louder, cunt!” Hrathr snapped at me. “Let the crowd hear what you’ve become!”
After a moment’s hesitation, another half-hearted bark left my throat. The stallions seized this opportunity to goad me, laughing and jeering at my expense.
“Bark, you stupid bitch!” the Caribou yelled, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let me off until I turned in a satisfactory performance.
I fought back tears of utter humiliation, and the complete denigration of everything I once was and represented. A princess of Equestria, stripped naked, violated and now reduced to nothing but a beast to be tamed! The utter wretchedness of my fate and my powerlessness to relieve my situation was vexing beyond words, but I could not refuse.
Each bark was more animalistic, beast-like and louder than the last. As Hrathr coerced me into debasing myself further and further, I noticed the girls looking up from their bowls, keenly watching me. While Fluttershy’s expression was one of knowing compassion, Fleur looked at me with satisfaction, happy to observe my disgrace.
The all-too-familiar sound of the clicker released me from my torment. Whereas I had hated it with a passion just days before, its approving cue was now a relief to my ears. When I looked at Hrathr for permission he gave me a nod, praising me with the words:
“Good girl, Sun Slut. Now feed.”
I lurched forward, crawling to take my place alongside Fleur-de-Lis and Fluttershy and burying my muzzle in my bowl of kibble. I was famished and humiliated; I wanted nothing more than to hide my face from the crowd’s piercing eyes. The food was awful as always, and sometimes I think the Caribou go to great lengths just to make it taste like dirt - but this time I had few qualms about the quality. I ate my food greedily, ignoring the crowd’s taunts regarding my continued degradation.
“Excellent, cunts,” Hrathr spoke while I shamelessly licked my bowl clean. “For your drink, you will be sucking the cocks of every stallion present, until they are satisfied. I do not want to see a single drop spilled, understood?”
“Yes, master!” both girls chimed.
As soon as I lifted my head from my bowl I was greeted with the sight of cock and balls. Eager stallions rushed forward, fighting and shoving to be served first - before I knew it, I had a penis shoved down my throat. The stallion standing in front of me had grabbed my head, and started slamming the full length of his member down my throat. Thank heavens he wasn’t the most well-endowed pony, or else I would have probably have lost my lunch. Still, feeling his rod slip down into the depths of my throat felt most uncomfortable, and it took great effort to stop myself from gagging. Fortunately it wasn’t long before he had his fill. He moaned loudly as he released a torrent of semen into my mouth, which I duly swallowed. It was disgusting, but I was determined to make it through this ordeal. The faster I could make these stallions climax, the sooner they would be sated and the sooner it would be over. I was given precious little relief however, as the next stallion roughly grabbed me by the mane and shoved my face onto his cock.
This went on for what seemed like hours. Even though there weren’t that many stallions present in the crowd, I was presented with an endless stream of cock. It was clear that the ponies present were extremely virile, and perhaps these men were more aroused than usual at the prospect of fucking mares usually well beyond their reach. I suspect the corruption of the Crystal Cock has everything to do with it however. Each of these stallions had at one point been polite, civil and respecting of the fairer sex. But now they were rough, dominating and cruel, with little regard for our comfort as they slammed cock after cock as deeply down our throats as they could. We have become sex objects to them, little more than pleasure toys to enact their perverted desires with.
Those standing in line became impatient, clamoring for their turn; it wasn’t long before I was lifted up by the hips, had my legs forced apart and a cock slipped right up my pussy. I am ashamed to write…that I squealed like a depraved slut as he penetrated me. Having all these stallions fucking my throat, being so close to their scents, their pheromones for so long…it does something to a mare. My hormones ran wild. Heat raged through my body, and I accepted the pleasure and relief without shame, without being manipulated to do so.
Fluttershy and Fleur fared little better, from what little I could spy through the throng of ponies surrounding us. Fluttershy had been laid across the grooming table, and was now being used as nothing but a cock sleeve - her spread legs invited a steady stream of suitors, and she readily kept her mouth open for those wanting to use her throat. Fleur was on her knees surrounded by stallions, and expertly deep-throating a massive member while using her hands to serve two others. Her expression was only describable as pure bliss - she was a mare in a state of complete submission and total obedience, happily draining the balls of any cock she could get her lips wrapped around.
At some point I lost consciousness, having been brought to climax over and over again. There is little doubt in my mind that our abuse continued long afterwards, however.
When I regained my consciousness I found myself back in my cell, opening my eyes to Iron Lance’s caring gaze. He was holding a dog brush, and gently brushed my mane. I enjoyed this rare moment of warmth and care as much as I could, bowing deeply before the stallion and raising my tail for him when prompted.
“Good girl, Sun Slut,” he said, grabbing hold of my matted tail. “Proper grooming is normally only reserved for red collar slaves, but I’m proud of the way you performed. Lord Hrathr can be harsh on his trainees, and what he asked of you wasn’t easy.”
“Thank you, Master Iron Lance,” I replied. “I still have much to learn before I can be deemed worthy of being the king’s slave.”
“That you do, but I can tell you are a quick learner,” the guard said while brushing my tail. “There are mares that haven’t picked up half of what you have learned despite months of training.”
I was delighted to hear Iron Lance was still convinced of my compliance with the Caribous’ designs, despite my obvious reservations to perform. Perhaps now was the time to lull him deeper into a sense of trust, to convince him that I was well and truly on my way to accepting a red collar.
“Please forgive my insolence, Master Iron Lance,” I spoke at length, aware of the transgression but feigning respect. “But Sun Slut noticed that you did not receive your due pleasure in the gardens. Please allow this worthless cunt to serve her purpose, master.”
As one would expect from a corrupted stallion, he was all too eager to take me. When I unzipped his trousers I was greeted with his already-stiffening rod, which needed little of my stroking to reach full mast. I knew he desired me, and enjoyed seeing me act like a submissive slut. After teasing his family jewels for a few moments, I worked my way up his shaft, and with the most sensual look I could muster plunged his length down my throat.
As I started sucking his cock I spied the keys to my prison hanging from his belt. My goal was so tantalizingly close - but no matter how tempting it was to try and pry them off him, I knew I had to bide my time. It was still day time, and the castle guards would be on full alert. For my escape plan to succeed I have to seduce Iron Lance into staying the night somehow, and make a break for it under the cover of my sister’s night. For the time being I had to act like I had been trained to. The more I can trick Iron Lance into seeming obedient and compliant, the more he will relax and become complacent - that is when my opportunity will arise.
Gauging from his hip jerks, passionate moans and flaring tip, I could tell he was close to cumming. In truth, I was loath to drink another stallion’s vile load, having been made to down what must have been liters of the substance already. So instead I moved off of his cock, immediately prostrating myself before him:
“My deepest apologies master, but this unworthy slave needs more oral training in order to learn how to properly pleasure your magnificent stallionhood,” I groveled, stretching my legs and raising my rump up to him. “Please, for your greater enjoyment, unload your seed down my trained cunt.”
Not too long ago nopony would ever have been able to make me utter these horribly uncouth words. But several months spent under Caribou yoke teaches a mare certain skills, and in a way I was grateful I was able to use my lessons to convincingly deceive Iron Lance. The stallion was none the wiser, commending me on my continued perversion - and eagerly slipped his cock into my pussy. I moaned as coarsely as I could manage, meeting each thrust of his hips with my own as I attempted to coax him into climaxing as soon as possible. He didn’t last long, hilting himself with a roar as he came. With each rough thrust i could feel his member pulse, draining his family jewels into my sex as he gripped down on my hips, groaning and panting loudly as he climaxed. He didn’t hold back, ejaculating every last drop he could muster while enjoying himself to the fullest.
I managed to derive my own pleasure from our encounter. Successfully manipulating an unwitting stallion to serve my plans was gratifying, and although Iron Lance didn’t last long enough for me to reach orgasm, in a way this was some of the most satisfying sex I have had in a long time.
His thick, white fluids gushed onto the floor, flowing out of me as he withdrew himself. I was glad Iron Lance didn’t make me lick it off the floor, and followed him on my hands and knees as he led me back to my cage.
“Please stay, master! Train me, make Sun Slut your bitch!” I pleaded with him as he was about to shut the door of my prison.
“Heh, I heard Lord Hrathr was an excellent trainer, and that you would blossom under his tutelage,” Iron Lance said, smirking as he turned the lock. “It is incredible, seeing you turn from one of Equestria’s most regal ponies into a filthy whore so quickly. I wasn’t expecting him to be this good.”
“Yes master,” I pretended to acknowledge. “Master Hrathr is opening my eyes, and teaching me how to become my true self. I have foolishly been denying what I was all along, a mere cunt unworthy of serving her masters’ cocks.”
“Perhaps you always had a slutty side you were hiding from us. Regardless it is as the lords say, you were truly born to become a sex slave,” Iron Lance spoke as he unlocked my cell door. “I look forward to enjoying more of you as you develop and grow.”
And with that, he was gone. I couldn't help but smirk with glee as he made his way from the bowels of the castle, his hoofsteps gradually becoming fainter and fainter. I could tell he was enticed by my suggestion as he left, and even though he would need to break the security protocol, he was definitely considering it. The lure has been cast. Now I just have to be patient and wait for the right moment to strike.
- Princess Celestia
Author's Note
Well that turned out way longer than originally intended, but luckily writing is a pretty quick process for me. Thanks to the proofreaders for their help, the next chapter is actually close to being wrapped up as well so it'll be posted in a couple of weeks.
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
My name is Celestia, I am the princess of Equestria.
I have been reciting this sentence daily, in an effort to preserve who I am…or who I once was.
Over the past weeks I have been subjected to sustained efforts to change my character, my very identity. The Caribou call it “conditioning”, the rewiring of the brain based on stimulus, response and reward or punishment. For this purpose they have constructed strange machines, the likes of which I have never seen before. The designs vary depending on their specific purpose, but from what I have been unfortunate enough to experience, all of them allow the operator to tightly control sensory, auditory, olfactory and gustatory input towards his hapless subject. By rewarding the correct responses and punishing resistance, the desired reaction can be ingrained in order to mold a recalcitrant mare into a submissive sex slave. Unabashed, overt sexuality, obedience and submission are rewarded with pleasure, breaking down notions of sexual inhibition and reinforcing a subservient mentality. Resistance, refusal to obey and any notions of pride, equality and dignity are met with pain, discomfort and terror, powerful negative reinforcement to help adjust behavior the Caribou deem unbecoming of a slave. Through extended training and conditioning, these responses can supposedly become automatic, almost instinctive.
It is an insidious method of irreversibly changing a mare’s personality, her very being. If Hrathr is to be believed, many mares have been processed in this manner already, turned into obedient, submissive sluts, ready to be trained into perfect sex toys for their master’s amusement. If his claims are true, this may be without question be the worst rights abuse the Caribou have committed yet. It represents a concerted effort to eradicate our resistance, to force unwilling mares to adopt their perverted way of life. And I am dismayed to report…that their methods are affecting me as well.
In order to turn me into Dainn’s perfect, obedient pet slave, Hrathr has been putting me through extended, daily conditioning sessions. Every morning, in preparation of my training, I am strapped into this strange, form-fitting latex suit that covers me from head to hoof, leaving only my muzzle and sex organs exposed. Rather than simply being another degrading outfit, it seems infused with the Caribou’s strange rune magic - there is a subtle taint, a chill I can feel coursing through my mind once I am sealed inside, like muddled, murmuring voices whispering to me in a language I did not understand. I have been unable to figure out the enchantment’s exact effects, but at this point it is the least of my concerns.
With my status reduced to the lowest of slaves, Hrathr deems kibble to be ‘too good to be wasted’ on me, and has changed my primary feed to…war beast semen. It is a revolting liquid, with a taste more potent that any male’s essence I have been forced to swallow. It lingers on the tongue for hours, and its consistency is thick and viscous, sticking at the back of my throat. The tasteless gruel I previously had was heavenly in comparison, and I do not dare imagine what luckless mare was forced to extract it.
My first conditioning sessions have focused solely on teaching me to accept this new feed, and as such have been most unpleasant to say the least. With my sight and hearing completely taken away by my rubber hood, my arms were restrained behind my back, whereas my legs were strapped together at the ankles to deny me the ability to redirect my focus. In this helpless state I was forced onto a table, and securely strapped in place. Hrathr then slid a large vibrator up my vagina and pulled a mask over my muzzle, inserting a feeding tube down my throat - it was then that my hellish ordeal started. The toy inside me was activated, buzzing and pleasuring me, inexorably pushing me towards an orgasm I desperately but vainly tried to stave off. I tried twisting and turning my body, anything to help me take my mind off the feeling - but my body was completely immobilized, and it wasn’t long before I was pushed over the edge.
The orgasm was as intense they come. For a moment my world went blank, and I was left gasping for air. But to my horror, as my body was still violently shaking, a torrent of war beast sperm poured down my feeding tube - and down into my throat. I retched at my initial taste of it, not to mention the smell, refusing to drink any of it as Hrathr had intended. But while I struggled to regain control of my body, the putrid liquid kept gushing in, overflowing from the sides of my mouth. It rapidly filled up my mask, and as I gagged and suppressed my urge to vomit, I felt some of it enter through my nostrils. I was going to drown if I didn’t ingest my feed.
I let out a muffled scream, struggling against my bonds as the next breath I drew filled my nose of cum rather than air. And yet my feed kept rushing in. I was being forced to swallow to survive. Panicking, I somehow managed to suppress my gag reflex and take a big gulp, hoping it would be enough to allow me to breathe; my next breath however was met with the same burning sensation of sperm being drawn into my nostrils. I could feel my heart beating, working as hard as it could to provide my body with oxygen - where there wasn’t any. Feeling lightheaded and unable to think of a more undignified way to perish, I desperately started drinking down as much semen as I could muster. My nostrils flared as I took another vain attempt at drawing some air - I had to swallow more still. Not until after several more mouthfuls did I finally feel the relief of oxygen flowing into my lungs once more.
Taking some ragged breaths, I huffed, coughed and wheezed as I slowly recovered my senses. It wasn’t long before I felt my vibrator being reactivated however, making me realize the true horror this training method. I was to undergo endless cycles of conditioning - in my state of sensory deprivation I was made to focus solely on pleasure, which I am being made to associate with the taste and scent of war beast sperm, greedily swallowing it as I orgasm. Any sort of control and opportunity to effectively resist has been taken away from me, and I can only suffer through extreme, endless pleasure as I am gradually turned into a depraved cum-loving beast. The pace is relentless and intense; this is without doubt some of the worst torture the Caribou have inflicted upon me.
Disgust aside, I somehow do not seem to be suffering any malnutrition as a result of my change in feed. My mane and coat seem more lustrous, and I feel more energized than I have felt in a long time. I am rather puzzled by the fact that this liquid seems to be able to sustain a pony, but suspect I am fed additional supplements to keep me in good health. However, war beast ejaculate seems to have powerful secondary effects, which unfortunately profoundly affect mares. It is a potent concoction of various hormones, aphrodisiacs and pheromones with the purpose of inducing a state of submission and sexual receptiveness in female war beasts. It has addictive effects as well, allegedly to induce repeated matings while the female is in heat - in my case it only aids in my degradation and furthers my conditioning.
Not even the night brought me reprieve from my training. Each evening, instead of being returned to my cage, I was led to a strange metal pod the Caribou had constructed. Once inside, I was made to lie down on a surprisingly comfortable mattress, after which Hrathr restrained my arms, legs and body with leather straps. Satisfied that I was completely immobilized, he then closed the entrance, sealing me inside and leaving me in total darkness. The sensory deprivation I experienced was total - I could neither see nor hear anything except for my own breathing. I was mentally shattered after having spent what seemed like an eternity in that horrible contraption; for a little while I was relieved to finally have some rest. It wasn’t long however, before a recording started playing.
Unable to do anything but listen to the voice, in combination with my state of exhaustion, I quickly felt myself lulled into a state of relaxation. The voice was pleasant and deep, calmly talking into me as it pulled me deeper and deeper into a state of trance. Helpless to resist its suggestions, I was made to visualize myself as a slave, completely naked and kneeling before Master Dainn in deep reverence. As a domesticated animal rather than a princess, I was obedient, respectful, and submissive. Far from the shame and rage I would normally feel in such a situation, it felt so good, so…right. Whatever command my master would give me, no matter how humiliating or depraved, I would happily perform. In my suggestive state of mind I eagerly spread my legs and masturbated in front of him. I crawled behind him like a loyal pet put in her proper place, lustfully presenting myself to him like a bitch in heat. I moaned without restrained when he took me, and shamelessly sucked his cock, all the while being induced to feel extraordinarily subservient. Every obeyed order was met with a waft of my master’s now all too familiar scent, along with the words:
“Good girl, Sun Slut.”
I am being hypnotized; trigger words and commands are being implanted in my brain, in an attempt to reprogram my mind and permanently imprint a state of submissiveness. I am dismayed to report I now feel intense pride and happiness at hearing this praise in a way I could never have imagined before. And whereas the musk of my master’s crotch should fill me with revulsion, I can no longer help but feel intense elation and arousal. I find myself eagerly inhaling its scent whenever it is fed to me, and am somewhat disappointed when my reward was taken away in preparation of the next cycle. It is neither a natural nor a willing response, and clearly this is the combined effect of my conditioning, brainwashing and the rune magic coursing through me. With each repeated session these feelings and responses are becoming more profound; seemingly more ingrained into my mind, more instinctive - and I am powerless to stop it.
Spending time in the sensory deprivation pod is bewildering. It blurs one’s sense of time, fantasy and reality; even when I eventually fall asleep I am sure the recording keeps playing, working to imprint my new submissive mindset. Each morning I am awoken from my slumber at its command, and kneel before my trainer in a state of complete servility. It takes a while for these effects to wear off, and as the day progresses I gradually regain my senses and will to resist. Hrathr seems quite aware of this, and as such puts me through some of the more intense animal training sessions in the morning, while my heightened state of suggestibility persists.
Perhaps what disturbs me the most is that my nighttime reeducation presents me a mirror, a vision of what I am being made into, and a view from the perspective of a willing, red collar slave. Is this what complete submission feels like? Could Cadance…be right somehow? To my dismay, I cannot help but realize I am slowly turning into the submissive the Caribou want me to be. Little by little, I am starting to derive pleasure from being dominated, perverted…and dare I say, trained. Being taken control of, taught according to my master’s wishes…it is all so confusing. Initially I was convinced that absolute refusal of my captors’ teachings would help me through this ordeal, and that I was strong enough to emerge unscathed if only I would not let debauchery affect me. Clearly I was somewhat mistaken and naive, and unaware of what methods these brutish slavers would employ in order to train and break me. But I must keep fighting and resist the temptation of giving in to carnal pleasure. Although I fear that I may be put through irreversible mind- and body modification, I trust that I can hold out long enough to keep at least part of myself uncorrupted before the end. I just hope that by the time I am freed or manage to escape, I am still mostly “me”, rather than some slavish, cock-hungry nymphomaniac…
- Princess Celestia
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
Entry #9 - Escape (part I)
I am no longer aware of how much time has passed. The past period has been spent being subjected to relentless mind alteration for what seems like an eternity. To my dismay, I can no longer deny that my masters’ reeducation efforts are having their desired effect. Now that I know what Hrathr expects of me, I have settled into a routine, finding that compliance is in many cases easier on the body than resistance. Not too long ago I would have considered obedience absolutely out of the question, but recalcitrance is met with punishment in equal measure, and pain is a harsh mistress. Even though my spirit remains uncowed, over time I have found myself more and more inclined to follow Hrathr’s commands, if only to avoid the sting of the whip.
My revolting diet of bodily fluids has continued as before, and although I cannot say I’ve come to like my feed, the addictive properties of war beast semen are evidently potent. I am…definitely developing an affinity to it. Hrathr knows this, undoubtedly having observed that I now swallow my meals with little of my earlier disgust and retching. In addition to this, the arcane whispers that talk into me during my conditioning sessions seem louder and clearer every day; I can clearly identify them as runic chants in the Caribou’s strange tongue. I have no doubt they form part of an enchantment of sorts, chaining my mind and bending me to their will in subtle, gradual ways.
Being aware of the effectiveness of the Caribou’s training methods has made the need to escape my bonds all the more pressing - yet this is considerably complicated by the helpless state I am left in when I’m not being worked on. Although Hrathr is fond of repeated, exhaustive drilling and conditioning sessions, I am allowed the occasional day’s rest, presumably for my own health. On these days I am normally left restrained in my cage with my wrists shackled to my ankles, covered in latex from head to hoof. My vision and much of my hearing are taken away by a hood that fully covers my head, leaving only my muzzle uncovered. To complete my degrading outfit my mouth and crotch are stuffed with the all-too-familiar casts of Dainn’s manhood. With all my senses taken away, I am left to suckle helplessly on my enslaver’s cock, further strengthening my wretched imprinting.
Despite the continued mistreatment, the Caribou do ensure that I am well-fed, if only to keep me in physical shape for training purposes. Iron Lance would enter my cell three times a day, removing the toy lodged inside my mouth to allow me to ingest my disgusting feed. Often he would force me to seek out my bowl by its scent alone; the guard evidently found it entertaining to watch me wiggle along the floor, following my nose to reach my meal. It is horribly disgraceful for a princess to worm her way to a dog bowl, sniffing for her food like an animal and being made to drink another beast’s sperm of all things. But I bore through it, knowing that it was through this stallion that I would be able to break out of my prison.
After repeated visitations Iron Lance eventually devised a little game; he would sit down in different parts of my cell each time, forcing me to find him by sniffing out his cock and balls. Only when I successfully made my way over to him would he take out my mouth plug, before pouring my feed into the bowl. I would bury my muzzle into my cum, greedily slurping it down with hoarse moans in the manner of slaves. I could bear the indignity of licking my bowl clean, continuing my act by begging him in my raunchiest voice to fuck my trained cunt, to ravage me and fulfill his most perverted desires before the king would claim me for his personal use. Resisting defying orders and breaking discipline, he declined each time, instead commending me on my developing sluttiness before reinserting my dildo and returning my to my cage. My failed attempts were disheartening - they meant I had days of intensive training to suffer through before the opportunity would rise again. But just as my hope was starting to falter, Iron Lance finally took the bait.
This time, after promising him the wildest, most depraved sex he could imagine, the stallion stayed silent. I anxiously awaited his response, being unable to see, but it was clear to me he was contemplating my offer. After a few awkward moments he spoke:
“Get up, you filthy whore. You have a cock to please.”
In a strange way, his answer was liberating. I squealed with delight, excited that at last he had fallen for my ploy. The next step of the plan was to wear him out and take the keys to my prison while he was asleep, after which I would attempt escape the castle and unite with the resistance that was undoubtedly being organized. The prospect was exhilarating, but I had to calm myself - my task was just starting, and if I couldn’t completely exhaust Iron Lance physically it would all be for naught. In addition, I was still restrained and unable to see; in my current state I would be going nowhere.
It was quite the effort to raise my body off the ground, but after a brief struggle I managed to reach his crotch, and set to work. As I sensually lathered my tongue over his family jewels I could feel his member engorging itself, emerging from its sheath and pushing along my cheek as it hardened. For the first time since my capture I felt satisfaction while giving head. Finally things were proceeding on my terms - although Iron Lance certainly didn’t seem aware of it, being too engrossed in his ridiculous male power fantasy. I savored every ridge and vein as I worked my way up his full length, and dutifully sank his cock into my throat.
Hearing him moan as I plunged his rod down my throat was deeply gratifying. I now had Iron Lance fully aroused, and would easily be able to wrap him around my finger. I took perverse pleasure out of servicing him orally, knowing that although I wouldn’t be able to get him to roll over and snore with a simple blow job, it would at least bring me closer to my objective. It wasn’t long before I felt the tip of his cock flaring, indicating that he was about to cum. Letting out a loud groan, the stallion roughly grabbed hold of my head, powerfully inserting the full length of his cock into my mouth. His deep, rhythmic thrusts almost dislocated my jaw, but I wasn’t about to let up. As soon as I felt him pulling back to try and prolong his pleasure I redoubled my efforts, pushing my throat back onto his cock and sucking it as vigorously as I could. He climaxed almost instantly, moaning loudly as he ejaculated his essence into my mouth with each throb of his penis.
Unlike with other stallions, I had no qualms swallowing Iron Lance’s seed - it was a necessary means to an end, essential to keep up my guise. Capitalizing on the moment, I continued pleasuring him with my tongue as he continued climaxing, taking his shaft deeper and deeper with the knowledge that each throb of his stallionhood, each disgusting burst of baby batter would take me closer to my ultimate goal of escaping this hellish prison. Iron Lance had few complaints. Going by his grunts, pants and groans, being serviced by his former princess was clearly ecstasy for him.
“Haah…Ngh…by the king you’re turning into a magnificent cumslut. I have to admit that I am somewhat envious - he’ll get to enjoy Equestria’s most exquisite cunt once you are fully trained,” the royal guard’s praise sounded.
A long-awaited, crucial moment had arrived. In order for my breakout to be successful, I would need to somehow convince Iron Lance to undo my restraints. Luckily stallions have a one-track mind nowadays, and knew just how to trick him into aiding in my escape.
“Thank you master, Master Hrathr and Master Anvari have taken great care to train this slave in compliance with Caribou customs. But Sun Slut has much more to offer you, Master Iron Lance. Please, untie my ropes so this cunt can pleasure you to the full extent of her abilities,” I replied, trying to appear as vacillating as possible by kneeling in front of him.
To my great delight, Iron Lance fell for my ploy. He removed my hood, untied my restraints and stripped me of my bodysuit, copping a good feel of my exposed breasts in the process.
“Such marvelousness. Soft and supple, yet as large as the bustiest of young mares” the guard’s denigrating assessment sounded. “You did your ponies a great disservice by hiding these tits from us. Like many a stallion I lusted for them, but never thought that I would ever get to see them, let alone fondle them before the Caribou liberated us. But now King Dainn has finally set this injustice straight,” Iron Lance said, tossing my robes aside.
I did not appreciate his crude comments nor his groping hands, but tolerated his transgression. Most importantly I was now freed from my restrictive rubber outfit, no longer blindfolded and had regained the use of my arms and legs, although Iron Lance left my boots and gloves untouched. Ideally I would rid myself of these as well since my paw gloves prevented the use of my fingers. Aware that these formed an important part of my new “identity”, I decided not to push the envelope too far so as to avoid suspicion.
“I now understand how wrong I was, thanks to Master Hrathr’s teachings. I was a haughty fool who did not know her place; a whore’s body is to be enjoyed by all,” I managed to utter, somehow managing to feign a smile.
“The lords’ hand in raising you is evident. I must admit I had my doubts whether or not they would be able to reform you into an obedient cunt, knowing your royal nature. Clearly, I was mistaken in my lack of faith,” Iron Lance spoke as he crouched down to pet me on the head. “Despite all the majesty and dignity you displayed, you must have always been a depraved slut behind the scenes for such a radical change to occur. Our king was right to select you to be trained into his personal sex slave, evidently possessing much greater insight in his subjects’ character than I do.”
“Of course, Master Dainn was right about my potential. Like any mare I am a wanton slut, but my true character was suppressed by false notions of modesty and equality. Master Dainn has opened my eyes to what I really am, and this bitch is glad to be taught to serve him,” I replied, attempting to allay any distrust by recanting the preposterous Caribou doctrine I had been forced to memorize.
Apparently satisfied by my response Iron Lance reached into his pocket, revealing a flask containing a translucent green fluid. He popped off the cork and took a large swig, before offering me the rest of it. Wary of taking any Caribou potion, I was apprehensive but aware that refusing would do little to help my cause. At his command I opened my mouth, after which he pressed the bottle against my lips and poured its contents down my throat. It did not taste as foul as I expected - it was certainly organic, probably plant based with a tinge of sweetness mixed into it. At the very least the liquid washed the aftertaste of stallion cum from my tongue.
Its effects were soon to become clear. Iron Lance’s cock engorged itself once more, reaching full, veiny erectness within seconds. It was an aphrodisiac, and a powerful, fast-acting one at that. I panicked as I felt my nipples engorge and heat emanate from my sex, aware that I could ill afford to be distracted from my task by raging sexual urges. My breeding instinct was running wild, taking over my rational thoughts; a loud moan, my winking, slick pussy and an involuntary squirt all but confirmed my heightened state of estrus. There was no escaping it now, much to Iron Lance’s delight. It took a titanic effort just to remain focused. But rather than giving in to lust, I would use this potion to my advantage - forcing me into a state of heat would make it all the easier to sexually exhaust the unwitting guard.
Taking the initiative I spread my legs as wide as I could before Iron Lance, eying him up lustfully and begging him to ravage my horny slave cunt. Needing little prompting, the stallion was on top of me within moments, sliding his erect shaft into my sex and rutting me on the floor like a ravenous beast. With his mind overtaken by lust he sated his desires, paying little heed to my own pleasure and using me as little more than a fuck toy. He roughly groped my breasts and sloppily locked lips with me, forcefully slamming his hips onto mine as he hilted himself with each thrust. Under normal circumstances I would not enjoy a man taking me in such a manner, but by now the aphrodisiac was coursing through my body and it took little effort to act the part of a harlot. Truth be told, the feeling of his cock was enough to push me towards the brink; having my chest fondled only added to the experience. I must admit, somewhere deep down a part of me enjoyed being used like this. It was rough, primal sex, a stallion and a mare driven wild by lust and indulging in their most basic instincts. As soon as he unlocked his lips from mine I threw my head back and let out a coarse moan, surrendering myself to pleasure, much to Iron Lance’s delight.
“That’s it, moan you cunt! If only the other guards could see their princess now, blossoming into Equestria’s most perverted whore!” the royal guard sneered, crudely feeling up my breasts as he continued forcing his full length in and out of my most sacred place.
I could only squeal as he squeezed my nipples. The drug-enhanced pleasure felt electric - for me and for Iron Lance. His breathing was ragged, and his hoarse moans betrayed his increasing excitement as he steadily increased his rhythm. His rock-hard member rubbed me in all the right places, working me ever closer to the climax I so craved. I had little doubt that the stallion was only interested in his own gratification, but in my state of arousal it made little difference. With a burst of fast, powerful thrusts he made me cum as hard as I ever had, reducing me to a trembling, squirting mess. My tightening walls reciprocated in kind, squeezing down on Iron Lance as my body was overwhelmed with lust. I felt his stallionhood throbbing almost instantly, pumping its payload into my womb. The royal guard moaned loudly as his rhythmic thrusts became irregular, riding out an orgasm of his own. But rather than pulling out, he continued humping me vigorously. To my surprise I could feel his cock engorging itself once more, reaching full mast only moments after cumming.
“Heh, excellent!” Iron Lance exclaimed as a wide grin stretched across his face. “It works as well as they say it does!”
I understood exactly what he meant. My hormones were raging, and the aphrodisiac coursing through my body was pushing my sex drive to new heights. His scent and pheromones only added to the experience, and for the first time in ages I found myself truly enjoying having sex, rather than having pleasure forced upon me. I wrapped my legs around him, giving him a sultry look as I gazed deeply into his eyes, all the while encouraging him to continue pumping away. It took little effort to convince him to oblige - which was just what I was after.
Iron Lance would continue to defile me for hours on end. As Hrathr would say, we fucked like beasts - there was none of the gentle, tender lovemaking I once enjoyed as a princess. It was hard, animalistic; only our individual satisfaction mattered. Rather than sating me, each climax sent me soaring ever higher, seemingly only increasing my desire and making cumming all the more satisfying. We changed positions frequently; Iron Lance would take me pressed against a wall, bent over one of the seats, on the ground, and in whatever creative position his perverted mind would think up. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t pleasurable, even if the experience wasn’t a natural one. Orgasms flowed freely and I indulged in them, often losing control completely as his hard cock sent me over the brink time and time again. A common mares’ complaint is that stallions do not last long enough to guarantee our satisfaction - here I received plenty, and then some.
It was physical rather than sexual fatigue that eventually halted our sex romp. Panting, Iron Lance finally withdrew himself after ejaculating his seed inside my womb once more, stumbling towards a bench in the corner of my cell to catch his breath. We were sweaty and exhausted - but I needed more, and gauging by the still-erect rod between the guard’s legs, he had more to give me still. I crawled over and took his throbbing penis into my mouth, enjoying the musky taste and scent of his cock and cum, mixed with my own fluids. A loud groan of pleasure escaped his lips as I squeezed his shaft between my breasts, rubbing them along his length and pleasuring his tip.
“Hnngh, marvelous! You’re becoming as insatiable as Cadance!” Iron Lance said, smirking. “The lords truly have done an incredible job converting you into a filthy little slut!”
“Thank you, master. No amount of cock can ever be enough to sate this depraved sex slave,” I answered with a smile, looking up briefly before resuming my task.
It was insufferable to continue spouting the insulting diatribe the Caribou had taught me, but I knew my objective was near. Worn out as he was, the stallion would not be able to carry on much longer. As expected, it did not take much effort to work him up to his limit. Although I am not accustomed to and certainly not proficient at pleasing a man with my breasts in this manner, I nevertheless found him reacting positively to my rather awkward efforts to stimulate him. Soon his cock flared again, expanding at its tip as the lustful stallion was about to orgasm once more. But to my surprise, Iron Lance pulled me off him as soon as another burst of precum splurged from his tip, undoubtedly trying to prolong his enjoyment.
“On your fours, bitch!” he barked as he pushed me onto my hands and knees. “I want to blow my last load into that filthy slave cunt of yours.”
It was difficult to hide my glee at this point. I had the guard exactly where I wanted him, and completely oblivious of the fact that I was manipulating him into aiding me in my designs. The fact that I would be able to derive some physical pleasure out of it was just the icing on the cake. Happily obliging Iron Lance’s request I set my legs apart and I raised my tail, giving him a playful wink and squirt. It was all the encouragement he needed.
Roughly grabbing me by the mane, Iron Lance inserted his stallionhood into my sex once more. I let out a loud moan as he split my walls, hilting himself over and over again as he ravaged me like a feral beast. The doggy position was never one of my favorites - it always felt impersonal, less intimate than missionary sex - but this time I had no qualms being taken as such. I have to admit I took great satisfaction out of it though. I do not know if it was the aphrodisiac, the circumstance or the position I was in, but by the Sun his cock felt good! It rubbed me in all the right places, and it wasn’t long before I felt myself shaking with gratification once again.
Iron Lance was clearly experiencing similar pleasure himself. Soon he reached over, copping a good feel of my breasts as he grunted loudly, clearly unable to stave off cumming for much longer. The look on his face as he leaned over was one of raw ecstasy, mixed with a desperate effort to contain himself. I had the unsuspecting stallion cornered; grinding my rear back onto his member was all it took to push him over the edge. With a loud moan he emptied his balls inside me, gasping and panting as his cock throbbed with each injection of sperm, filling me up to the brim. The feeling was one of complete victory - Iron Lance had fallen for my ploy hook, line and sinker. I let the guard ride out his orgasm completely, knowing that he was close to crashing.
Finally Iron Lance’s cock went flaccid, slipping out of me as the exhausted stallion collapsed. Cum spilled out of me as he slumped onto the floor, and soon fell into a deep slumber. Likewise, I was drenched in sweat and physically shattered. It was incredibly tempting to lie down alongside him; every part of my body screamed for rest. But I knew that if I were to shut my eyes even for a moment I would seriously jeopardize my escape - instead I forced myself to focus on my task through sheer force of will. Making my way over to the stallion’s discarded pants, I attempted to remove the keys from his belt, a task made considerably more difficult by my paw gloves. After a couple of fumbles I finally managed to slip them off with the use of my teeth, all the while keeping an eye on Iron Lance to make sure he wouldn’t catch me in the act. Holding the keys to my cell in my hands was exhilarating - for the first time in an eternity, freedom was within my grasp. My chance had finally come!
Spurred on by the taste of success, I raised myself up off the ground and stood up. My leg muscles immediately contracted. Violently. Rune magic immediately activated upon the extension of my legs through the accursed boots I had been forced to wear, designed to discourage me from walking on my hooves like a dignified pony. Painful cramps and involuntary contractions instantly wracked my body. I fell to the floor, somehow managing to stifle a howl of agony as I twisted and squirmed on the ground. At the same time, a crippling fear took hold of me; if Iron Lance noticed my struggles, my one chance to break out of this infernal prison would immediately be thwarted.
My heart pounded in my chest as I anxiously looked over, adrenalin now masking the effects of weariness. To my great relief the stallion remained unaware of the theft, snoring loudly as he lay on his back. My enchanted leg wear clearly posed a significant obstacle to my escape, and my thoughts turned to removing them somehow - unfortunately my gloves prevented the use of my fingers, meaning I lacked the dexterity to do so. I would have to abscond on my hands and knees. Although the notion of having to continue crawling was hateful, I was determined not to let this minor setback deter me. I took the key in my mouth, and after some awkward fumbling managed to slot it into the lock.
Turning the key and opening the heavy steel prison door was an incredible moment. After so many months of degrading and humiliating myself, I was finally reaping the fruit of my labors! Once more assuring myself that Iron Lance was vast asleep, I slipped out the door and gently closed it behind me. I had done it, I was out! For a moment I savored the taste of freedom and the sheer relief of my plan coming to fruition, but soon forced myself to focus on my goals, being acutely aware that the most difficult part of my plan was yet to come. To delay Iron Lance in sounding the alarm when he would wake up, I locked the cell door and disposed of the key in one of the many crevices that littered the gaol.
The dungeon hall was far from silent. Muffled groans and tortured mewling emanated from the various cell doors, intermingling with passionate moans from guards satiating themselves with their hapless victims. Over the rhythmic sounds of hips slapping against rumps I overheard mares drunken with lust, undoubtedly under the effects of potions and spells, screaming loudly as they came. Although I was aided by the cover of darkness, escaping would not be easy. My sister’s former guards had taken over the watch, meaning I could not afford to linger. For a moment I considered trying to find Luna and release her from the torment she must be enduring, before realizing that regrettably I was in no shape to help anypony. I could only crawl, and with my hands strapped into my gloves had no way of overpowering any guards confronting me. Furthermore, I had no idea where my sister was being kept, and delaying my escape would only increase the chance of being recaptured.
The guilt I felt due to leaving Luna behind was painful, but the sensible decision was clearly to press on without her. It was heartrending not to be able to free anypony, but I made a silent promise to return with arms and free those subjected to this horrible treatment. I took a deep breath, prayed for a bit of luck, and made my way down the hallway, sneaking my way past the many doors and up the stairs that would lead to the castle proper.
- Princess Celestia
Author's Note
This was originally meant to be the first section of a single chapter, but I decided to split it in two for easier reading and to push forward its release a bit. Thanks for your patience!
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
Entry #10 - Escape (part II)
Now that I had escaped from my cell, my hope was to somehow reach the moat, from where a secret pathway behind the city’s waterfall would take me into Equestria’s hinterland. Once outside, the plan would be to link up with what friendly forces there are left and lead the resistance from there. The castle’s main gate was likely to be well-guarded however, and I was under no illusion that my flight would be easy. Fortunately the palace features several hidden passageways leading beyond the castle walls, constructed as a means of escape in case of emergency. Two are hidden in the throne room and royal sleeping quarters, but these in all likelihood would be heavily patrolled; my hopes were therefore invested in a third escape route located in the ballroom, which would be of a lower security concern to the night guard.
It seemed like an eternity ago since I last walked through the palace out of my own volition. The halls were quiet at this time of night, bathed in the faint glow of my sister’s moonlight. As I made my way from the dungeon entrance I reminisced of better times gone by, when my ponies were still free from subjugation and the Caribou’s taint. Part of me wondered if we could ever put this era behind us and restore Equestrian values; regardless, the occupation would likely leave a black mark on our history. I was spurred on by the thought of liberation however, confident that my escape would spell the beginning of the end of Dainn’s regime.
Unfortunately my progress was slower than I would have liked. Having to continue crawling on my hands and knees was insufferable, as every step reminded me of the humiliation I had suffered at the Caribou’s hands; although I had escaped their clutches, I had not yet escaped their influence. In the past a simple teleportation spell would have sufficed, to transport myself to safety in a blink of an eye. I yearned for the use of my magic - but alas. The memory of the loss of my horn haunts me still, and my horn stump is a permanent reminder of my defeat that fateful day. As I continued on my way through the castle halls the advantage of being forced to crawl was becoming clear however - although my movement speed was impaired, using my knees rather than my hooves allowed me to sneak through the palace in silence.
As expected security had remained active through the night, and it wasn’t long before I ran into a patrol. The loud clinking of the guards’ armor and the stomping of their feet announced their approach well before they appeared down the hallway. My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the area for places to hide - I quickly scrambled behind a large vase, trembling with nerves and holding my breath as the hoof steps became louder and louder. The guards were clearly relaxed at this time of night, openly chatting amongst themselves about their recent sexual conquests like stallions do nowadays. To my great relief they walked right past me, as did the next patrol, and the next. I was thankful for their incompetence, concealing myself behind curtains, statues and furniture as I made my way steadily onwards.
Proof of the Caribou’s vandalism could be seen throughout the castle. Statues celebrating female virtues and achievements had been removed or destroyed, replaced by obscene sculptures of mares submitting to their stallion masters. The stained glass ornaments depicting Equestria’s historical victories over our adversaries had been defaced, and were in the progress of being replaced by images glorifying our defeat by Dainn, and our ongoing transformation into his trained slaves. Various uncompleted works seemed to show Cadance’s submission to her new overlords; although my curiosity was piqued, there was little I could learn regarding the specifics. But most offensive of all were two enormous paintings erected in the main hall, depicting me and my sister in red collars and wing sheaths, and wearing revealing, sexualized Saddle Arabian outfits.
My sister was depicted with a ridiculously curvy body, bearing a pair of absurdly large breasts and a large chain connecting a set of silver nipple piercings. I was painted as voluptuous mare carrying a rack even greater than Luna’s, in a suggestive pose that accentuated my preposterously wide rump and exaggerated female figure. A golden set of rings adorned my nipples, connected to a clitoral piercing by gilded chains. Our expressions were ones of complete willingness and infatuation with our lot. I shuddered when I realized the painting conformed to Dainn’s vision to have us physically modified and fully trained into model sluts - I continued on my way, spurred on by the knowledge that failure would undoubtedly mean being transformed into…that. Clearly then our captors are deluded if they think Equestria’s princesses will submit and be molded into visions of perfect sex slavery. The possibility of defacing these canvases crossed my mind, but time was of the essence; destroying the imagery would only alert the guards to my presence.
My suspicions regarding the castle’s entrance were quickly confirmed by a quick glance down the main hallway - various cohorts of the elite guard patrolled the gate even at night. I pressed on towards the palace’s western wing, keeping out of sight by sneaking through the shadows. Our oppressors seem fond of depicting the chained Sun and Moon, displaying the imagery liberally on the many banners hanging from the castle walls. Curiously, I noted several tapestries that seemed to depict Caribou life before their journey south; from what little I could glance they were a militaristic society, and treated their cows little better than they treat us mares. But most important to me at this point was the cover these ornaments provided, since the patrols in this part of the palace were heavy - I was approaching the sleeping quarters, where the usurper king was undoubtedly resting. I spied my bedroom from an overpass, which was heavily guarded by traitorous stallions. The beautiful decorations that once adorned the doorway had been removed, replaced by runic inscriptions on the frame along with a Caribou sigil engraved on the door. The thought of Dainn claiming my personal sanctum for his own enraged me, but vengeance would have to wait. Instead, my attention was quickly drawn to a soft mewling emanating from behind a nearby portcullis.
“Mnh…nnh…”
Against my better judgement I peeked through, and was greeted by the sight of mares chained, shackled and restrained in rows of stocks facing both walls. Their legs were spread by spreader bars, and their tails raised by chains connected to pulleys on the roof, leaving their nude flanks exposed to anypony entering the hallway. All of them wore black collars, evidence of their continued resistance; as is customary for enslaved mares, the pegasi had their wings plucked and sealed in hateful sheaths identical to my own. The unicorns had been dehorned after capture, forever stripping them of their magic. Every single one their bodies bore the unmistakable marks of repeated sexual violation. Whip marks covered their breasts, rumps and legs, and many of them had been branded, tattooed and pierced in the manner of slaves. All of them had their holes filled with toys; in the absence of those, batons and bottles were apparently considered suitable substitutes by their barbaric captors. The heavy bondage gear worn by each mare made it difficult to identify them individually, and each pony wore a thick blindfold and ball gag - but from their cutie marks I could infer they had once been female royal guards and Wonderbolts.
Seeing my ponies like this was deeply disturbing. My own abuse I could suffer, but the view of other mares subjected to horrible abuse was unbearable. Their matted, dirty coats and manes showed little thought for their wellbeing; the most these poor souls could probably hope for was a cold bucket of water dumped over them once their masters deemed them too filthy for their own enjoyment. Although I would not consider my regular humiliation at the hands of the dog groomer to be a satisfactory substitute, it did made me realize that in a sick, twisted way, I had been receiving privileged treatment and care. These mares did not have such “fortune” however, and it tore my heart not being able to do much for them, miserable as they were. I could only whisper comforting words, promising that help would soon be on the way. Only those closest to the gate could hear me, and clearly recognized the voice of their princess - their muffled pleas made it all the more heart wrenching to tear myself away from the iron bars and continue on my quest.
My in-depth knowledge of Canterlot Castle’s layout as well as the inner workings of the security operations had served me well at this point. I knew which passages would likely be patrolled at this time of night, and where alternative paths might be taken to minimize the risk of capture. But to reach the ballroom I would be forced to pass by my sister’s sleeping quarters. I suspected one of the new regime’s leadership would most likely have claimed this section for their own, and that this would most likely be the most perilous part of my route. Trepidation gripped me as I approached Luna’s bedroom. I took extra care with each step, keeping my ears piqued for any danger that might be heading my way and nervously scanning my surroundings for places to hide. Hugging the wall, I carefully snuck a peek around the corner, hoping to find some way to distract or sneak by the guards - only to be greeted an empty hallway.
The air was thick with the smell of sex, and the lustful moans of mares and stallions. In the bedroom Shining Armor was having a late night romp, and had invited his personal guard to join in on the fun. The stallions had left the door slightly ajar, and from the hall I witnessed a full-blown orgy. Cadance, ever the slut, had been bent over a table, and was servicing four stallions at once. Her spread legs were wrapped around Orestes’ hips, who was impaling her with his cock; another guard had lodged himself balls-deep into her mouth as he forcefully swabbed her throat. Yet two more stallions were attending her from the sides, having their members vigorously stroked by the princess of love’s hands. Where Cadance learned such sexual proficiency I do not know, but it is clear to me that the proper, dignified princess I once knew is no more. With her adopted culture now flourishing, she has developed into a succubus, seducing stallions into partaking in her body and converting mares into the Caribou’s willing servants.
Shining Armor was busy satisfying himself with another one of his slaves - he had gotten his hands on a zebra mare, and added her to his growing harem. Like Cadence she was on her back with her legs spread wide, but unlike the traitorous princess she had her limbs tied behind her, painfully arching and contorting her back. Her striped figure was wonderfully voluptuous, but it was difficult to tell if it was natural or if her body had been augmented by the Caribou arts of the flesh. Shining fucked her roughly, squeezing her throat, frequently slapping her face and squeezing her breasts. From my perspective I could not make out the color of her collar, but it was clear that she had been in training for quite some time. The mare took considerable pleasure from being taken as such, having learned to love being utterly dominated. A lustful scream escaped her lips as she came; a jet of milk squirting from her swollen globes as the traitor prince toyed with her nipples. Cadance’s influence over her was evident; the zebra mare had abandoned the eloquent, rhyming speech of her kind for the coarse tongue of a whore.
“Yes master, more! Fuck me more! Please use this slave’s filthy cunt mouth!”
One of the stallions standing over her duly obliged, hilting his erect cock straight down her throat. The meaty rod elicited a muffled, strained moan of lust from the mare, who was quite evidently enjoying being spit roasted. A jet of clear fluids spraying from her loins sent her body shaking and convulsing, all but confirming her state of ecstasy. And yet the wet, rough slapping of hips continued unabated.
The scene sickened me. It was a disheartening reminder that the Caribou’s vile culture has taken root in Equestria and its surroundings, and has managed to corrupt ponies from far and wide to its cause. Purifying the land of their filth will likely take considerable effort and extended periods of time, and it is a distinct possibility that a section of the converted population will remain predisposed to the rule of their former masters. Cadance herself may be beyond saving, her fate being inextricably linked to the Crystal Cock; many other mares may willingly follow her into exile in the end.
Many more female voices emanated from the room, doubtlessly belonging to the multitude of slaves a prominent stallion like Shining Armor could afford to own. There was little incentive for me to linger however - neglecting their duties, every stallion present was busy sating their base instincts, meaning that nopony was paying any heed to the passage they were supposed to be guarding. From the looks of it, Equestria’s new prince had invited his entire personal guard to join in on the fun - which played right into my hands. I took full advantage of their ineptitude, silently but hurriedly making my way past the amorous ponies and creeping ever closer to my objective - and to freedom.
As expected, guarding the ball room was of no priority to the night watch, and the entrance was deserted at this hour. After ensuring that the coast was clear, I placed my hand on the door lever and used my body to lean into the heavy gate. The great wooden door opened silently; to avoid arousing suspicion I made sure to close it behind me. The hall was completely silent, and illuminated only by the faint moonlight. Like the other parts of the castle the original decor was in the process of being changed. The statues that adorned the room had been removed, and replaced with sculptures championing the new female virtues - submissiveness, sexual promiscuity and voluptuous figures made to satisfy male desires. Some of the wall panels featured unfinished carvings, apparently documenting the Caribou’s migration from their homeland and subsequent invasion of Equestria.
One image in particular halted me in my tracks. It was a carving of Dainn, apparently striking a deal with Discord, the spirit of chaos we thought reformed. I couldn’t put my finger on it in the heat of battle, but I now realize that it was his taint that I sensed all over Dainn when we met in battle on that fateful day. Did Discord deceive us, and only pretend to be Fluttershy’s friend? Or was he tempted to return to his old ways somehow? Perhaps I was right in my mistrust of him, and too naive in my belief that the spirit of chaos could be rehabilitated through the magic of friendship. Perhaps all this suffering could have been prevented…had I been more prudent in my duties.
The thought gnawed at my mind, but I knew I could not afford to tarry. I made my way to the far side of the ballroom, where the pedestal of one of the statues still stood. Although the sculpture itself had been thrown down and had been replaced with a yet-unfinished piece of “art”, the granite base blocking the passageway had thankfully not been touched, nor had the Caribou touched the tile that triggered the opening mechanism. I pushed against it, and after some slight resistance it gave way, a click confirming that the construction was still functional. The massive stone slab soon moved, slowly grinding along the floor as hidden pulleys creaked to reveal a long-disused set of stairs - to freedom.
My heart pounded with excitement. Liberty was within reach, and for the first time since my enslavement I felt truly optimistic about our chances! But I wasn’t in the clear yet. This passageway would lead me just outside the castle walls, from where I would still need to make my escape and link up with the resistance. I descended the steps on my hands and knees. The ground was dusty and dirty, the walls full of cobwebs and bugs that made their home in the dark, but I paid them no heed. The passage was drafty however, and although I have become accustomed to crawling around naked, the cold nighttime air was chilling and unpleasant to my bare skin. But I steeled myself, taking it as a sign that freedom was at hand.
Seeing the Moon’s faint glow emanating from the end of the tunnel was exhilarating to say the least. My pace increased along with my excitement.
“Take it easy girl. Stay vigilant, you’re not out of the woods yet,” I thought, reminding myself to stay alert.
To my relief the exit was unguarded. I crawled from the duct and took a deep breath, trying to take in the fresh air of freedom. Instead I was immediately met by a powerful scent, emanating from a strange…pod growing nearby. It was alluring, entrancing - the more I inhaled, the fuzzier my mind felt. Each sniff was followed by another, deep inhalation as the primal part of my brain spurred me on, tickled by this powerful stimulus. Spellbound, I found myself crawling towards…this wonderful, bewitching scent almost by instinct. Arousal set in, and my breath growing more ragged with each step. My nipples stiffened, and I could feel myself getting wet. In a brief moment of lucidity I realized it was a powerful concoction of pheromones. Every fiber in my body screamed to ignore the lure, to pull away and continue my escape. My goal was so close! And yet…I was inextricably drawn to the source of this mesmerizing smell.
Desire was taking over completely, and soon I was barely able to form a coherent thought. And this…thing somehow sensed me. It’s prey. The fleshy leaves opened from the top as a response, revealing thick, slimy tentacles emerging from the aperture. For a moment they flailed about wildly as if they were trying to pinpoint my location - before bursting forth, wrapping themselves around my body and limbs within seconds. Fear and panic momentarily snapped me out of my trance, but the trap had already been sprung. The large, muscular appendages firmly restrained my arms and legs, inexorably pulling me towards the pod. Its petals now opened, revealing a horrifying mass of tentacles slithering and flinging wildly into the air.
From its base two enormous tendrils squirmed upwards. The first member, a large, yellow muscular arm with a bulbous head quickly seemed to sense my location. It pointed itself towards me, its petals opening like a flower to reveal a large phallus inside. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled in a futile attempt to escape the plant’s grasp, panicking as I realized my escape hung in the balance. The tentacles responded in kind however, gripping themselves ever tighter around my body and rapidly reeling me in. I shrieked as fear overtook me - and that was the only cue my assailant needed. The yellow tendril lurched towards me, slamming itself down my throat before I could react. Its petals wrapped tightly around my muzzle; two more tentacles lodged themselves into my nostrils. I was immediately overwhelmed by a powerful concoction of pheromones. I smelt sex, cock, attraction all melded into one. I found myself instinctively inhaling, unable to stop taking in the scent that overpowered my senses. At the same time I was force-fed a sweet nectar, which was being pumped right down my throat by the phallus imbedded inside me. The liquid had equally powerful mind-altering effects. Any fear I felt soon washed away, and my mind dulled. The urgency, my desire to escape…all faded into nothingness as I was made to relax. Soon I found myself slack-jawed and barely cognizant, suckling the meaty rod like a pacifier.
Sensing its prey had been subdued, I was now drawn into the heart of the open pod itself, where I noticed the second phallus emerging from the heart of the monstrous plant. It was orange in color and covered in various ridges and bumps leaving little doubt regarding its purpose. Completely intoxicated by the aromas and ambrosia pouring into my nostrils and mouth, I felt my faculties dulling one by one. Fear no longer gripped me; my rational mind was being suppressed in favor of powerful feelings of lust and desire. Soon only one function remained - the need to breed. When the tentacles spread my legs in preparation of my mating I offered no resistance - my pussy was sopping wet, winking and desperately hungry for cock. Mating was now the only thing on my pheromone addled mind, any other mental functions were completely inhibited.
I squealed when I was lowered onto the pod’s central phallus, which despite its size it slid smoothly up my soaked pussy. Every bump and ridge felt like pure ecstasy as it rubbed along my engorged clit. With any restraint suppressed, I fucked it with reckless abandon, thrusting my hips up and down that magnificent rod in a purely instinctive reaction to the stimulation of pure pleasure. Straddling the enormous cock with my pussy stretched to the limit, I felt my legs being firmly anchored to the pod’s base at the calves. My upper body was pushed against the base of the enormous tendril lodged deeply down my muzzle; my arms were locked in place behind it, while more tentacles groped at my breasts, lathering them in aphrodisiac and sensually teasing my nipples. The only freedom left to me was the movement in my hips, which I dutifully started gyrating up and down the enormous member. With my drive to escape completely suppressed, my only purpose was now to fuck, to supply my master with my juices it required until was sated. This was by far the biggest cock I had ever taken, yet felt heavenly rather than painful, its texture providing me with intense sexual pleasure that shook me to the core. My chest was treated to an equally wonderful fondling - and it wasn’t long before I reached climax, moaning and squirting freely as trembled with satisfaction.
The pod reacted to my orgasm with an immediate influx of fluids. My reward for cumming was an energizing nectar injected directly down my throat and into my crotch. It clearly had potent psychosomatic effects, keeping me firmly entranced/entrained onto my task. My sexual desire instantly returned, all the while driven to greater heights. All I knew is that I wanted more - fucking was all that mattered, and the continued movement of my hips my sole purpose. Sensing its grip over me had been solidified, the leaves of the tentacles inserted into my mouth and nose wrapped around my head as the pod closed around me.
Inside its fleshy embrace the maddeningly pleasurable sex continued for what seemed like an eternity. Every once in a while the pod released its essence right up my pussy. A mare’s reaction to this thick, viscous liquid can only be described as pure ecstasy. It immediately triggers intense convulsions, rapid, continuous climaxes during which the body and mind are completely overloaded with pleasure. I was little more than a cock sleeve, a cunt forced to cum and squirt endlessly to sate the creature’s needs. Each time I felt myself losing consciousness or blacking out, another shot of pheromones mixed with a substance not dissimilar to spirit of hartshorn was injected into my nostrils, rousing me back to consciousness and forcing me to continue riding the enormous organ lodged inside my sex. Locked into a vicious cycle of fucking, cumming and squirting, escape was impossible, even if I were to regain possession of the necessary faculties. But eventually the pod’s nutritional requirements were sated, and it evidently released me as it entered into a state of lowered activity. I have no recollection of the end of my ordeal - I had completely lost any awareness well beforehand.
When I opened my eyes my mind was still clouded by the pheromone-induced haze. Night had turned into day, and I found myself lying motionless on the grass besides the pod. As my faculties returned, I slowly became aware of the multitude of stallions standing over me. They were Royal Guards. Still dazed, I barely recognized them as such. Their voices were unintelligible, their faces and movements blurs. In this helpless state I was carried back to the castle’s courtyard, and tied to a frame with my arms stretched above my head and my legs set apart by a spreader bar. They left me there to recover in this vulnerable position, checking on my mental state occasionally. As time passed, my mind gradually returned to me , along with a horrible realization - my plan had failed. I had been captured.
The punishment meted out for attempted escape was brutal as expected. A host of stallions surrounded me, and I was completely restrained with my naked body on full display. I could do nothing but brace myself for the onslaught. One by one the guards goaded me, mocking my failure and lashing me all over with crops, whips, cattle prods and paddles.
“Stupid cunt!” they shouted, hurling abuse as they whipped me with their riding crops. “Did you really think we would let you escape?!”
“You are nothing but a bunch of traitors to the crown!” I hissed back at them, concealing the pain. “How could you do this to your fellow ponies, to your princess?”
I received no answer but the painful slap of the paddle making contact with my exposed rear. The stallions erupted in a cacophony of laughter as an agonizing scream left my mouth. I was given no respite however - within moments another guard stepped forward, and ruthlessly flogged me across my breasts. It was brutal torture. Time and time again they derided me, calling me a relic of a bygone age, and claiming that the Caribou had somehow freed the stallions from our deception and oppression. No part of my body was spared their merciless, continued punishment. But no matter how harshly I was being chastized, the mental anguish of facing further captivity, slave training, and the inevitable repercussions of my transgression were infinitely worse than any physical pain and humiliation the brutes could subject me to. Hrathr would undoubtedly severely discipline me for defying the basic rules that apply to slaves, and would most likely ramp up the security around my cell to prevent any future opportunities for escape. The worst feeling was reserved for my ponies however, who would face yet more time and suffering under the Caribou yoke.
Red whip- and flog marks covered my breasts, body and legs, and I suspected my back and rear weren’t faring much better. I desperately fought back the pain and tears, not wanting to give these brutes the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Resisting fiercely, I responded to their insults and accusations in kind, calling them craven fools for embracing the culture of barbarians and rapists. But every retort was summarily ignored, and only resulted in continued beatings. Despite my resolve, the pain of unrelenting lashes, strikes and prodding gradually wore me down. While I initially took my punishment with the dignity expected of nobility, I soon felt my spirit cowed by the prospect of yet another whipping. Sensing weakness the guards stepped up their efforts - but not until I saw a stallion approaching me with a cattle prod aimed at my crotch did I give in.
“No please! N-no more, please!” I screamed, finally begging for respite.
I braced myself for the inevitable searing electric shock that was about to course through my nethers. Instead, I felt only the cold prongs of the torture device press themselves against my labia.
“Tell me cunt. Have you learned your lesson?” the stallion asked, looking me straight in the eye.
“Y-yes master,” I replied, noticing he held his thumb poised on the activation switch. “P-please…forgive my insolence.”
“And?!” the guard threatened, jamming the prod harshly into my skin.
“A-and please pardon this slave’s impudence…I should not have attempted to escape,” I answered in fear. “Please have mercy on this foolish, fresh cunt. I am…a stupid female who needs to be put in her p-place…as the king’s property, it is my purpose to be trained until…I am deemed worthy of being his sex pet.”
Satisfied by my response and submission, the stallion retracted his prod. Not being shocked was a relief, but now punishment turned to discipline as I was coerced into admitting my “wrongs” and reinforcing my new identity as a slave. I gritted my teeth, attempting to throw up whatever resistance I could muster; only when I could no longer bear the bite of the whip did I comply.
“What did you learn, slave?!” the stallions demanded over and over.
“As a…s-sex slave must stay at her masters’ side, obediently and…submissively follow their commands. My masters control my actions and thoughts, trying to escape is a grave offense,” I muttered, trying to conceal my suffering.
“Again, cunt. Recite your lesson,” the guards demanded.
With each punishment my skin became more bruised, sensitive and painful. My body was covered with red lash marks, but despite my admissions, the whip kept lashing, the rod kept shocking, and the crop kept stinging at my body. I gasped for breath, begging the guards for mercy - but only when I screamed what these traitors wanted to hear did I receive a brief respite, before they resumed my torture to reinforce their teachings. Soon however, the lesson was interrupted by a familiar male voice.
“You’re a terrible actress, Sun Slut.”
It was Iron Lance, bearing a wide grin on his face as he walked in on the proceedings. The stallions cheered at his arrival, congratulating him and patting him on the back. I instantly understood that it had all been a ploy. His apparent gullibility. The patrols’ lowered state of alertness that night, the lack of guards stationed at crucial sections of the castle grounds. I had been herded like hapless prey, unknowingly doing exactly what my captors had expected me to do.
“You’re such a pathetic mare, Sun Slut. Feckless as a leader, hopeless and worthless as a slave. At times I do wonder how we survived under your command,” Iron Lance sneered, gloating in my failure. “But I did enjoy fucking your filthy cunt and whorish mouth, bitch!”
His deception enraged me. I spat in his face, glaring at my treasonous former confidante with disdain.
“You are the pathetic one here, Iron Lance,” I snapped back at him. “You’re just being used by your masters, a pitiful fool who had to resort to rape to get a mare way beyond his station. There is no pony as pitiful as a stallion like you.”
My retort only managed to enrage him; the insulted stallion immediately lashed out at me with the back of his hand. It hurt, but determined not to grant him the satisfaction of seeing me grimace I gritted my teeth, preparing myself to snap back at him. I wasn’t given the chance however - within moments a cattle prod jammed into my ribs, sending a painful shock coursing through my body. I screamed as the brute enacted his retribution on me, repeatedly electrocuting me all over my body in a savage attempt to force me to submit, or at least salvage some of his pride.
“Stupid cunt! Did you really think I didn’t realize you were just sucking up to me? The only reason you managed to make it out is because we let you!” the incensed stallion shouted, pulling none of his punches.
But more painful than the brutal torture was the realization that I had no real chance of escaping from the outset. They had just been toying with me. It was soul-shattering.
“That is quite enough, private. Do keep in mind that you are handling the king’s property.”
It was Hrathr, who finally arrived to interrupt the guards’ excesses. A pack of hounds walked at his side, followed by Fleur-de-Lis and Fluttershy crawling obediently behind them.
“Y-yes Lord Hrathr, o-of course,” Iron Lance replied, stepping back and standing at attention. “Please pardon the transgression, sir.”
“I take it she never got outside the castle grounds?” Hrathr said while inspecting my body as I hung from the frame, slumped and panting with pain and exhaustion. I was loath to have this barbaric beast master touch me again, but in a way I was also glad he intervened and ended my torture.
“No my lord,” one of the guards spoke. “We recaptured her near the pods planted just outside the walls. We were in full control throughout.”
“Excellent,” Hrathr said as he raised my head up by the chin, giving me a stern, piercing glare. “I was going to take it easy on you, cunt. As the king’s pet you enjoyed a privileged position, shielded from the worst physical punishments and harshest training methods. But evidently I will have to be much stricter.”
“Attempted escape is one of the gravest of offenses a slave can commit,” the Caribou bull continued. “A proper sex slave must be unquestioningly loyal and obedient to her master, and her place is to be at his side at all times. Only upon being given an order may a slave act, and then only in compliance with her master’s command.”
I shuddered at the notion of a stricter training regime. What I had undergone up until now had been savage beyond my imagination - clearly I had not fully grasped the cruelty the Caribou enact on their captives. In addition, my body was sore all over after having suffered continued whipping and flogging. But I wanted to show this monster that despite all his efforts, my spirit remained uncowed, and that his training had little effect. I shot him a deathly glare in reply.
“If you think you can turn me into a willing sex slave you are gravely mistaken, Hrathr,” I spoke, fully intending to defy and humiliate him in front of his men. “My ponies will take back Equestria, and once we do I will see you and your vile ilk brought to justice!”
“Hmph, such a ridiculous, mistaken belief,” Hrathr said, gazing down on me with thunderous eyes. “But then again, I suppose I can’t expect much else from a worthless mare. I will find a way to get through that thick head of yours.”
To my surprise he turned away, handing the leashes of his beasts to one of the guards. For a moment I thought I had somehow escaped further punishment, and that he would order the men to take me down and return me to my cage. On his way back into the castle he gave his slaves a pat on their heads, and to my dismay commanded:
“Have Sun Slut mated like the bitch she is. Make sure she is under no illusions that she still is a princess, nor pony.”
Panic gripped me as the meaning of Hrathr’s words sank in. He was going to have his hounds violate me.
Throwing dignity to the wind, I screamed for mercy when they lowered my arm restraints, forcing me forward onto my knees. With the spreader bar preventing me from closing my legs, my arms twisted painfully behind me as my upper body was forced to bend at the waist, leaving me in a perfect position to be mounted. I begged to undergo any other punishment than being desecrated in such a way, promising obedience and compliance, anything to get them to stop. My pleas fell on deaf ears however; one of the guards grabbed my tail, pulling it out of the way to leave my sex vulnerable and exposed.
When the stallions broke their huddle I was greeted by the sight of Fluttershy and Fleur-de-Lis whipping the hounds into a frenzy. Barking and yelping, they continuously rubbed their bodies against the dogs to catch their attention before turning their rears to them, lifting their tails and squirting to spread their pheromones. The beasts responded in kind, excitedly mounting the mares only to be pulled back by their handlers, leaving them horny and frustrated. With the pack now fully aroused, Fleur started drawing the hounds towards me, with Fluttershy crawling close behind.
“G-girls, please, p-please no, don’t do this!” I implored, as the white mare approached me on her hands and knees. But instead she looked at me with a sneer, all the while keeping her tail raised to ensure the air was thick with her scent.
“Oh princess,” Fleur whispered sarcastically into my ear. “Why would we withhold such a wonderful, eyeopening sexual experience from you? You’ll love this, I know a bitch like you will.”
The pack was now whining, yelping and pulling on their leashes, their red cocks jutting from underneath their fur, erect and ready for insertion. With both girls now at my side, the guards released the leashes. Within moments the dogs were upon us, racing to be first to mount one of their bitches. Fluttershy was the first to be taken, letting out a whorish squeal the instant her sire penetrated her; Fleur’s stud followed soon after, feverishly thrusting itself up the moaning slave’s cunt. To my horror I soon felt the weight of one of the hounds land on my back.
“N-no, don’t! S-stop!” I screamed, but to no avail. I felt the dog’s furry legs brush along my skin as it gripped me at the hips, before powerfully thrusting its cock into my pussy.
I fought back the tears as it started humping me, wildly and roughly. It was utter humiliation, not to mention completely immoral. No princess should ever engage in such a forbidden act. And yet, the horror of being forced to copulate with an animal…soon turned into horniness. Its cock seemed to rub me in all the right places, and every time its knot stretched my pussy…I am ashamed to write that I can feel myself getting wet just thinking about it. To the stallion’s great delight, I was soon showing clear signs of arousal. I cannot explain why, but it was…exhilarating. It was being used, degraded into a lowly beast’s sex toy, a cock sleeve for the purpose of sating this creature’s most base instincts - and it felt incredible. I desperately tried to rationalize it - it must have been lingering effects of the pod’s aphrodisiac, my imprinting, or my training. But deep down, I knew I was making excuses. Raw pleasure kept flowing, more intense with each thrust of the hound’s rock-hard cock. A loud, slutty moan escaped my lips. Deep down, I wanted this. To be used. To be degraded. To be treated like nothing but an animal. I was being mated like a bitch, and loved every second of it.
I didn’t even pretend to try staving off my orgasm. My body was soon reduced to a trembling mess, only held up by my restraints. My quivering walls tightened around my mate’s shaft; it was enough to send him over the edge. With a strong thrust of his hips he hilted himself, slipping the entirety of his knot into my drenched cunt. I squealed as a spike of electric pleasure wracked my body, much to the guards enjoyment. They jeered me while I continued cumming, hurling insulting epithets such as “bitch princess” and “canine whore” at me. The humiliation only added to my pleasure; my lips were now clenched around my suitor’s cock, its fully engorged base firmly locking it in place. Feeling it throb and ejaculate inside me was heavenly. I found myself moaning wantonly, greedily lapping up the forbidden pleasure. I was an animal. A bitch.
The beast soon dismounted my quivering body, turning around as it continued to fill up my womb with its seed. I was sweaty, panting, and had been utterly degraded in front of my former guards. I had been forced to copulate with a dog, its cock still knotted inside my cunt - and yet, somehow, I was…hungry for more. As I rode out my orgasm, both girls keenly observed me with knowing smiles. Like me, they were stuck to their respective partners, heavily aroused, sweaty and in the process of being filled up with cum. Hrathr had evidently made them go through the same process of sexual discovery, and they had clearly loved it as much as I did, whether through training or out of their own filthy perversions.
My bliss was disturbed by the snapping of cameras, accompanied by the rapid flashing of bulbs. The guards were taking pictures of their downtrodden princess, undoubtedly with the aim of publishing them in tomorrow’s papers. Equestria and the world would know of my canine escapade. The photos themselves would be used to show the populace that I was a princess no longer, but rather slave firmly under the Caribou’s hooves, being molded into an obedient bitch. I would be publicly humiliated in front of my own ponies…and yet the prospect…excited me. The taboo, the impermissible nature…it turned me on so much. I found myself breathing hoarsely, clearly aroused by my predicament. Every part of my rational mind told me this was wrong - yet I could not hide my feelings. I found myself enjoying the exposure, arching my back to flaunt my curves in front of the camera as I stood butt to butt with my suitor.
When the beast finally pulled away, I eagerly looked for the next hound to service me next. But as excess cum spilled from my pussy the stallions once again approached me, leashing me once more while holding off the eager pack. They released my arms and legs from their restraints causing me to fall forward onto the floor, upon which one of the guards roughly pulled me up by the mane.
“You certainly did enjoy getting fucked like that, didn’t you bitch?” he sneered, as he lifted my tail. “And by the look of your winking slave cunt, you’re in hungry for some more dog cock.”
“…Y-yes master…p-please let me be fucked…like the bitch I am,” I mumbled, only partially hiding my arousal.
“Then beg for it, whore,” the stallion commanded. “Suceur, Sluttershy. Show Sun Slut how to seduce one of your own kind.”
Both girls squealed with excitement. They immediately crawled over to the nearest male, whining and yelping as they licked their muzzles. The hounds responded in kind, and the couples engaged in a mating ritual involving playful sniffs, barks and bites while rubbing their bodies against each other. Soon however, the mares turned their rumps towards their suitors, setting their legs apart, lifting their tails and arching their lower backs to expose their dripping-wet sexes. Flagging they called it - the position bitches assume signal their availability to potential mates. Both dogs immediately caught the hint, wildly sniffing their crotches to satisfy their instinctual drive. A lustful squirt from both mares released a torrent of pheromones, communicating a simple message - they were in heat, ready to be fucked.
The beasts mounted the girls in an instant, slamming their erect rods deeply up the mares’ hungry pussies. There was no room for gentle lovemaking - these were animals rutting, males wildly humping females with the sole purpose of inseminating their wombs. Despite this fact, mutual satisfaction abounded. The red collars were sweaty and moaned without restraint, clearly heavily aroused. The copious amounts of clear fluids splattering the ground between their legs left little doubt that they were enjoying themselves. Beholding this amoral spectacle excited me. I felt my juices trickling down my thighs, and my tail almost instinctively lifting as I leaned forward, breathing raggedly.
“Now it’s your turn, bitch,” the royal guard ordered. “Follow your pack members’ example.”
The huddle of guards stepped aside, leading one of the largest hounds to the fore. Rex was his name. He was huge. Muscular. Virile. His penis, jutting from his loins, was ready for his bitch. But for a moment the rational part of my mind regained control, and I hesitated. Was I really going through with this? Being forcefully mounted was one thing, but inducing a dog to copulate me was a big step to make. No matter how much I craved its cock, I still had to resist my slide into debauchery, rather than simply give in to my base lusts.
“Hurry up you stupid cunt! I know better than to keep a male waiting!” the stallion shouted, snapping me to attention with a firm slap on my rear.
I crawled forward tentatively, but didn’t have to do much to draw the beast’s attention. He was intimidating but clearly curious and interested, obviously having experience in rutting mares. My instinctive reaction was to cower as he rushed over to greet me, unsure of how to act. But my fear and vacillation were met with an immediate tug on my leash.
“Respond to his advances in kind, slave. Smell him, you’ve seen how to,” my handler’s stern command sounded.
I met the dog’s inquisitive nuzzling with a couple of awkward sniffs and a lick of my tongue. Rex responded with a bark, licking my face and jumping excitedly. For a moment I considered resisting - but my eyes were met by the stern gaze of the guards, observing me closely and ready to intervene should I dare to break the protocol. There was no getting out of this. Taking the initiative I awkwardly rubbed my body against the hound’s side, crawling forward to get him to focus on my rump. He promptly got the hint, directing his attention to my rear while sniffing wildly for the telltale signs of heat.
It felt…filthy, raising my tail for him. Despite my reservations, I could not deny that part of me wanted this. I must admit that it felt good to bring my unrestrained sexuality to the fore, regardless of the fact that it meant recognizing that I am gradually turning into an utterly depraved slut. With a shiver of excitement I revealed my dripping wet sex to my suitor, now heavily aroused and sweating. With a few snuffles the beast confirmed my receptiveness - and mounted me.
I gasped as I felt the beast’s furry chest brush against my skin; moments later the full weight of his body pressed down on my back. Wasting no time, he immediately plunged his erect rod into my pussy, stretching me wide. His entry rubbed me just right along the front wall of my cunt, overloading my senses with pleasure. Throwing dignity to the wind I let out a whorish squeal, responding to the fulfillment of my perverted desire with overt sluttiness. Unlike his pack mate, the bottom ridge of Rex’s cock featured a series of bumps; whether this was characteristic of his species or another one of the Caribou’s physical modifications I do not know. Although large by canine standards, Rex did not rival a stallion or bull in size by any stretch of the imagination, but the debauchery of being mated like an animal did more than enough to satiate my forbidden lust. I was his mare now.
I was his bitch .
To my delight, the hound lasted much longer than I expected. The vigorous, rhythmic slapping of his hips against my rump, the feeling of his cock rubbing against my clitoris, and the way he bit and pulled on my mane to hold me down as he fucked and dominated me…by the Sun it felt good! But just when I thought I had reached the height of bliss, another dog presented himself before me. Broken free from the pack and eager for a mate, he left little doubt regarding his intentions. The enraptured crowd burst out in roars and jeers as I opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue like a debase prostitute hungry to serve more cock. Cameras went off, flashing to capture the moment for all to see - but I paid them no heed, welcoming my suitor’s cock down my throat as he shoved his crotch into my face.
The beast hilted himself with his first thrust, putting my gag reflex to the test with his length. I dutifully played my part, wrapping my lips around his manhood and using my tongue to stimulate him. My nostrils flared as I took in his musk, inhaling deeply to let his scent tickle my senses. Orally pleasuring a beast is wrong on so many levels, but with my mind addled by pheromones and perverted lust, I acted almost on instinct. The utter depravity of being spit roasted by two beasts was the most gratifying sexual experience I have ever had. It was rough, intense, and satisfied a fantasy I didn’t even knew I had. I relished the feeling and soon started cumming liberally, moaning and squirting while putting the results of my training on full display.
The dogs were likewise enjoying my body. My tightening walls were ecstasy for Rex, who soon started rutting me harder and deeper. The way the bulb slipped in and out of my slick bitch pussy…I’m getting wet just thinking about it! After a couple of powerful thrusts he finally hilted himself, his erect cock throbbing as he filled up my womb with his seed. The hound lodged inside my mouth came soon after, pouring canine semen down my throat with each burst. The pleasure was overwhelming. Losing all muscle control, my body spasmed uncontrollably, dropping to the floor. Waves of pure satisfaction coursed through my body, overloading my mind until at the very height of my final, earth-shattering climax, I blacked out.
—————
When I regained consciousness, I opened my eyes to complete darkness. It took a moment, but I soon realized I was back in my cage, restrained, hooded and sealed inside my latex suit, helplessly awaiting the next round of training. My escape effort had been in vain, my plan a complete failure. I would continue to be trained and conditioned, to be slowly transformed into the perfect sex slave Dainn envisions me as. Frustration was the first feeling that formed, followed by anger. Frustration at having fallen for the guards’ ploy, despair at having failed to escape and anger at myself, for not being able to resist the pod’s lure when I emerged from the duct. But my open enjoyment of canine rape…caused embarrassment and confusion above all else. I could have resisted, fought my base desires - but instead I found myself unable to resist the temptation of the depravity planted into my mind.
In a way I should not be surprised at my continued debauchery. Having suffered repeated cycles of training, conditioning and reeducation, I have become intimately familiar of the way the Caribou remold and reconstruct the equine mind to fit their purposes. I did not expect to have gone so far already, however. But is it their training…or something darker, something deep inside me that has always been part of my being? A long suppressed perversion, used, amplified and brought to the surface by the Caribou? Was I…truly born to be trained and become a bitch?
Somehow, I am starting to derive pleasure out of utter domination, perversion and humiliation. No matter how much I try to deny and resist it, it is evident that I am…changing in ways that I could never have imagined. Despite my resistance and efforts to maintain my dignity, I didn’t just like it, but loved being mated like an animal. It is becoming clear to me that I am unable to stop the effects of my training - rather, my resistance is possibly planned for, and is furthering the transformation of my being. The Caribou are cultivating the seeds of submission in my subconsciousness, which to my dismay are starting to sprout and flourish, little by little twisting me into their filthy sex slave. I do not know where it will end, nor what I will eventually become. It was completely unexpected to discover my utter helplessness when it comes to preventing the corruption. And the worst thing is…that I desire more of it…
No! I must resist! They are messing with my mind, trying to make me crack! Yet…why am I so confused?
-Princess Celestia
Author's Note
Whew, that took a while to finish! Sorry for the delay, but like the comic this story will be updated every once in a while due to time constraints. More frequent art updates will be posted on my tumblr. Thanks for your patience!
Fall of Equestria: The Princess’ Diary
Entry #11 - Punishment (part I)
Author's Note
This is the first part of what was initially supposed to be a single chapter, but to spare everyone from having to wait for more than a year for the next chapter I decided to split it in two. Sorry for the wait, but my schedule does not allow for much more unfortunately.
This will have an image released alongside it, to be posted on tumblr shortly.
Entry #11 - Punishment (part I)
My punishment for attempting to escape was harsh, as expected. For the first couple of days after my recapture I was left completely restrained and hooded in my cage, with little more to do than suckle on the dildo lodged deeply down my throat. No light passed my blindfold, nor did any sound penetrate the rubber barrier sealing my ears; in this darkness I was left to stew in my thoughts and emotions. The events of the past days replayed themselves over and over again in my mind. What could I have done differently? Was there any way I could possibly have escaped their snare? Should I have bided my time instead of striking at the first opportunity, as the guards had anticipated? At times my frustration and anger overwhelmed me, and I struggled against my bonds with all my might - but if anything the Caribou are masters of the art of bondage, and my pathetic wriggling only highlighted my helplessness and inability to change my fate.
My isolation was only broken during feeding time. Three times a day a guard entered my cell, and removed the rubber cock from my mouth. The moment its tip was pulled free from my lips another cock was jammed in before I could voice my displeasure, followed immediately by the flow of warm, thick war beast semen. Having had all agency stripped from me, I was force-fed using the all too familiar penis-shaped fluid dispensers I had so often been forced to drink from. I am ashamed to write that I eventually became more than happy to swallow my load - often making undignified slurps and moans while the container was emptied into my stomach. Enjoyment is too strong a word, but my mental conditioning over the past months has completely overwritten my disgust of the sticky fluid. In a way I was glad to be granted a reprieve from the utter darkness and silence, no matter how depraved the interaction was. Over time i learned to lengthen my feeding sessions by slowly suckling on the dildo, but as soon as I downed the last drop of cum my mouth plug was replaced, and I was once again left in solitude.
Without being able to see the passing of night and day there was no way of telling for how long I was kept in this state, but it felt like it must have been weeks. The monotony was eventually broken however, when I was roughly pulled from my cage and released from my bonds. When my hood was pulled from my head I was greeted by the unpleasant view of Hrathr’s scarred face - the barbaric slaver had returned to resume my training.
“Time to change that foolish, recalcitrant attitude of yours, bitch,” the beast master spoke, looking me sternly in the eye. “It is clear to me a harsher approach is needed to get through that thick skull of yours.”
“No matter what you try, you’ll never change me Hrathr,” I retorted, shooting the Caribou a deathly glare.
The brute bemusedly sneered at me in reply.
“You forget that I am your trainer, Sun Slut, and that I have been closely monitoring and guiding your development. I have observed the way you cum, heard your whorish moans, and seen the way your squirt freely whilst being dominated and fucked like a dog. You may pretend to be a regal, dignified princess, but I can see past the facade you put up. Your sexual preferences, behavior and very character are being molded into those of a unadulterated, submissive slut; I can tell you are progressing faster than expected. No refined, stately mare would ever embrace and enjoy being turned into an animal as much as you already do,” Hrathr replied.
The Caribou’s comments enraged me. Not because of his taunts and insults - but because deep down…I knew his words were true. Months of slave training have irrefutably changed me, and it is undeniable that I am slowly starting to enjoy sex in ways that I would have dismissed at the very notion before my enslavement. As my pent-up frustration boiled over I lashed out at the bull, fully intending to slap him in the face. Instead, Hrathr anticipated my move, catching my hand before it could hit its mark. I screamed out in pain as he twisted my arm behind my back, pushing me face down onto the floor with his hoof.
“You ponies talk about finding your special talent, and how it defines your path in life,” the beast master continued, unfazed. “As ineffective and feckless as you were as a leader, I would say your true talent lies in eternal servitude to your masters as an obedient, submissive whore. We have seen it from the moment King Dainn placed that collar around your neck. Your new cutie mark suits you well in that regard.”
“Augh! Ngh…I am a princess of Equestria! The rightful ruler of this land!” I blurted out in defiance. But my words were as powerless as I was, and only earned me more pain as the Caribou drove his hoof into my back.
“Hmph, after all this time you still don’t seem to understand your place. But no matter,” Hrathr spoke, unimpressed at my resistance. “I have brought something along to help drive the point home.”
I looked up, expecting the presence of a stallion or bull carrying some torture device from Tartarus - but to my surprise the Caribou had brought a mare with him instead. She knelt submissively in the corner of the cell, keeping her hands on her thighs and her head bowed in deference as she waited for the bull’s command. On Hrathr’s cue she lifted her gaze, and I instantly recognized her.
It was Rarity, the former Element of Generosity, now turned into a sex slave.
Her purple mane and tail were as well-groomed as always, lustrous and meticulously combed and curled. She looked to be in good physical shape, maintaining a beautiful, sleek body, and as is Rarity’s wont, her make-up was impeccable. But like all captured unicorns her forehead now featured a white stump instead of a horn, and golden studs adorned her nipples. A red collar was wrapped tightly around her neck, indicating her willing acceptance of her enslavement.
Fluttershy’s willing submission came as no surprise, but it came as a shock to me that another one of the Elements of Harmony would so readily accept Caribou overlordship. Rarity was never the feistiest of mares, but I would have thought that her elegant, ladylike character would predispose her to resist such wanton debauchery. Instead, she appeared before me without any care to cover her shame - in fact, she seemed experienced and familiar with the standards Caribou slaves were held to, conducting herself with the manners and poise expected of well-trained sluts.
In turn, Rarity looked as shocked as I was - whatever she had been ordered to do, she clearly did not expect to see me here.
“The suit, cunt,” the brute ordered, pinning me down by driving his knee into my back.
“Yes, Lord Hrathr, of course,” Rarity replied, bowing her head in deference upon hearing the beast master speak. “The work was completed as per your command, and Lord Etadys has given his blessing as per your request.”
Keeping her gaze affixed to the floor, she reached into a bag, revealing a neatly-folded red leather garment. Shuffling forward on her knees she raised the outfit up with her hands as if it were an offering.
“Unlike some you at least understand that your place is to obey,” the bull said as he inspected the clothes. “Good work. I’ll see it it that you are suitably rewarded.”
“Thank you ever so much, Lord Hrathr,” she spoke, prostrating herself before the Caribou. “Only the finest quality for the king.”
“Do keep in mind that your continued favor depends on your performance, slave. You are as worthless as any other mare, and should you displease king Dainn you won’t be spared his wrath,” Hrathr spoke. “If it were up to me all you mares would end up like this haughty bitch, crawling like animals on the floor where you belong.”
Turning his attention back to me, the savage unzipped the garment, preparing it to strap me in. It was a full-body latex suit but of a more intricate design than the one I wore at night, this time featuring various leather straps, belts and rings, undoubtedly to restrain its victim. But as the shiny fabric rippled the reflection of light revealed that the garment was covered in runic inscriptions, covering it from head to hoof. The magic emanating from it was highly unsettling. Whether it was instinct or through extensive exposure to rune magic, I could sense that whatever enchantments and spells the Caribou had infused into the fabric were far more powerful than what I had experienced up until now. I somehow knew that they were to be feared; a deep, visceral terror welled up from inside me as the arcane incantations and whispers spoke to my mind.
“N-no, no!” I protested, kicking and screaming at my handler as my heart pounded inside my chest.
But there was little I could do to stop him, and all my struggles achieved was being manhandled as the bull zipped me into my latex prison. As expected the rubber suit was form-fitting, wrapping tightly around my body. It featured buckles and straps sewn in around the ankles and wrists, which could be connected by chains to rings strategically located at my upper arms and thighs. In this way my arms and legs were kept folded at all times, preventing normal use of my hands and hooves. As if being forced to crawl wasn’t humiliating enough, I was now stripped of what little dignity was left to me and made to move around on my knees and elbows, which thankfully were padded.
I struggled wildly against my bonds, driven by adrenaline - but the chains and straps were far too strong to be broken. I soon found myself out of breath, my vigorous efforts to break free reduced to pathetic wriggling. Seeing that his charge was no longer able to effectively resist, Hrathr released his grip. I was now completely at his mercy, unable to anything but face my impending punishment. As is customary of Caribou clothing my outfit featured an open crotch, leaving my shame exposed - an instinctive attempt to cover myself with my tail was met with a firm tug from my trainer.
“Wrap her tail while I prepare the rest of her outfit,” the beast master ordered, addressing Rarity as he strode off to fetch some tools. “This bitch must learn to love flaunting her body.”
“Of course Lord Hrathr, as you wish,” Rarity answered as she took a strip of leather from her pouch, all the while maintaining her maximally submissive demeanor.
The white mare gently lifted up my tail at the dock, bunching up my matted tail from the base. I was conscious of how filthy I was - I had not been afforded a bath since my failed escape attempt. But rather uncharacteristically, Rarity didn’t show any disgust at my unkept appearance or smell, whether she had become used to seeing slaves in this state or through fear of Hrathr’s punishment. As she wrapped the leather material tightly around the base of my tail I realized that I lost what little control over my body I retained. The wrap formed a stiff rod, preventing me from using my tail to cover my rear. From now I would be permanently exposed, and stallions and bulls would be freely able to see my sex.
“I’m…so, so sorry, princess…I never thought it would end up this way,” Rarity whispered into my ear upon completing her task, after making sure Hrathr was still occupied. “I-it was all just some…innocent fun. I didn’t know what I was getting into until it was too late.”
The look in Rarity’s eyes was wholly different from the wildly depraved look Cadance carries, or the mindlessly obedient expression of a trained bitch slave like Fluttershy. Instead she had an air of sadness about her, and her eyes betrayed a look of regret. What had happened to her over the past months? Could it be that she had accepted a red collar out of coercion or blackmail, rather than truly embracing the Caribou’s obscene culture like many a willing mare?
“W-wait, wha-“ I whispered back, but my train of thought was stopped dead in its tracks by a powerful magic chill crawling its way along my back.
Hrathr had returned, carrying an enormous, golden phallus in one hand, and a black leather hood in the other. The sex toy was beautifully sculpted in the shape of a life-like penis, complete with all the ridges, veins and a hint of flare - to my dismay I instantly recognized it as the shape of Dainn’s manhood. The obscene sculpture had a familiar purple gem set in its base - it had once been the torc I once proudly wore over my shoulders, which like my other regalia had been melted down and crafted into a perverse, humiliating piece of jewelry.
The light reflecting off the gleaming material revealed that the Caribou’s rune masters had a hand in its forging - it was covered with the faint marks of their kind’s etchings, imbuing it with powerful arcane enchantments unknown to even the most well-read unicorns. Rather disturbingly, it seemed to resonate in my mind, as if it were calling to me somehow. All the feelings, memories and emotions I felt at the time of my imprinting were immediately brought to the fore, as vivid and intense as the cursed day I was underwent the process at the hands of the barbarian king. The instantaneous feeling of excitement and anticipation were disconcerting evidence of its permanent effects; it required great effort to mentally suppress and control the seemingly instinctive reaction.
Once I managed to wrest my gaze from my oppressor’s member, my eye fell on the hood Hrathr was carrying in his other hand. It was intricately crafted mask of sorts, shaped like a dog’s head, clearly meant to humiliate and degrade me by making me look every bit like the bitch the Caribou plan to turn me into. The shiny material was encrusted with runic inscriptions, hinting at a further, more sinister purpose. The only openings in the latex accessory were holes for my neck, mouth and nostrils - meaning I would be spending the coming period in total darkness once again.
Rarity bowed deeply before the beast master, pressing her hornless forehead against the floor.
“Her tail wrap is in place as you commanded, Lord Hrathr,” she spoke with utmost respect. “In this slave’s humble opinion, it really enhances the royal pet’s look.”
“Good work, female. Your job here is done. Lord Anvari will see to it that you are suitably rewarded,” the bull answered, dismissing Rarity with a wave of his hand.
“Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Master Hrathr. This slave was happy to be of use,” Rarity said, leaving the room deferentially without ever lifting her gaze.
We only spent a short time in each other’s company, but I was loath to see her go. There was so much I still wanted to ask her. How she ended up in her predicament, if perhaps she knew anything of what was going on in the outside world. Although it was very brief, she offered some emotional support I desperately craved. Up until now I have only been allowed to interact with mares that seemed to have been broken and fully converted into wanton sluts, ponies eager to see me share in their fate. After so many months of incarceration, Rarity had been the first pony to show any sympathy for my plight. I could only hope for a future reunion however. There were more pressing matters at hand, as Hrathr turned his attention to me.
“As for you, your ordeal is only starting,” the beast master spoke in his typical stern tone.
“My task as your trainer is finding the best way to teach you, slave. Each female responds and adapts differently to enslavement. Some are eager to please, embracing their new life of pleasure. Others resist foolishly, and require more encouragement. But in the end all females are fundamentally the same, and using the right methods all can eventually be broken and turned into submissive, obedient sluts.
“For a while I spared you from the harshest training methods, believing that you could be reformed using gentler ways. But evidently you still haven’t accepted your place. You have a regal, prideful character, doubtlessly nurtured by living a spoiled life in the palace. But that can be corrected. Despite your delusions of superiority, will soon find that you are no different than a domestic animal.”
In truth, I feared the punishment the Caribou had in store for me. I could sense the strength of the magic imbued in my gear, and that it would be unlikely I would emerge unscathed. I steeled myself, determined not to show the savage any weakness.
“Your treatment of the female gender tells me all about your kind that I have the displeasure of knowing, Hrathr,” I answered with contempt. “You Caribou live in a backwards age, using brute force and simple tools to rape and oppress others rather than cultivating and advancing your society.”
“Hmph. You may think that our methods are simple and crude, and that aphrodisiacs and pain are the only tools in our arsenal. But we have a deep understanding of how sexual desire works, and over the generations have perfected the art of manipulating it,” the brute replied, unimpressed with my retort. “Sex is a basic desire of all living species. Pleasure motivates creatures to copulate, allowing their kind to persist from generation to generation. It is a reward for acting on their primal instincts - pleasure teaches and drives an organism to repeat the behavior that gives them the sexual release they crave. There are many methods of influencing sexual lust. Potions, pills and injections of hormones can act on the brain to increase sex drive. Heat can be magically induced, and driven to heights far beyond the natural state of arousal.”
“But our magical prowess isn’t limited to modifying base desires,” Hrathr continued. “Our rune masters have the skills to stimulate or suppress specific parts of the female brain. Pleasure can be intensified, inhibitions can be suppressed; we can force orgasms, induce hypersexuality, and manipulate your senses. Through careful reinforcement of the desired behavior we can create the perfect submissive mind, and turn a recalcitrant mare such as yourself into our willing servant. It is a fine art, and the culmination of many years of experimentation and study to achieve the desired results.”
“You speak of your people’s achievements with pride, like they are somehow praiseworthy. But all that the Caribou have perfected is savagery and brutality,” I spat with derision. “Don’t think that you will manage to change us mares like you did your own.”
“Heh, that is the foolish belief of a typically ignorant female, too headstrong and ignorant to realize the gift we are bestowing upon your kind. The process of conversion is already well underway, and many have already willingly submitted, choosing to live a life of pleasure and sexual bliss as red collar slaves,” the Caribou lord said with a sneer. “The remaining mares are in the process of being trained, broken and reeducated to serve their masters in the society we have created. With each passing day more mares see the glory and blessing of living a life of slavery, and willingly join our ranks. It is only a matter of time before you ponies are fully integrated, and the remnants of your pathetic culture are erased forever.”
“Every word you say confirm my views regarding your people and your beliefs,” I replied with disdain, although his statement shook me. “You Caribou are nothing but a bunch of primitive troglodytes, attempting to reverse generations-long progress and achievements. Your kind have attained nothing but the ability to destroy and oppress. You may have brainwashed my ponies, but if you think you can make me into your puppet you are sorely mistaken.”
“Regardless of how mentally strong you may believe you are, as you will soon find out, your mind is much more malleable than you think,” Hrathr replied. “By controlling both reward and stimulus, changing sexual behavior and preferences is as straightforward as administering pleasure and punishment depending on the response. It is no more complex than teaching an animal how to perform a trick. You may cling to your notions of “decency”, but your body will betray you. Before long you will become the king’s most loyal servant, openly moaning and squirting like a whore whilst performing the filthiest sex acts - and you will know that your ridiculous concepts of equality, dignity and modesty were utter nonsense.”
“Do your worst, slaver,” I retorted defiantly. “No matter what you try, I will never become your willing servant!”
“Your words are nothing but empty bravado, slave. You may resist and protest against our teachings, but you forget that you can’t hide anything from your trainer. Your body doesn’t lie. I have heard the way you moan when you are raped, seen how wet and aroused you get when you are dominated. You can’t deny that you have cummed and squirted countless of times, and that deep down, you relished it.”
With those words, Hrathr inserted the dildo into my pussy. To my utter despair…I could not help but moan in ecstasy when I felt Dainn’s cock penetrate me. Despite my disdain for everything this man has done to me, to Equestria…I love the feeling above anything else. Every bump and ridge, and indeed it’s very shape, size, and girth seemed to hit all the right spots, sending wonderful, intense feelings of pleasure and bliss coursing through my very core. After all this time, the effects of my imprinting remain as strong as ever - it was disconcerting to realize that I may never be free of it.
“N-no! Aah!” I moaned as I involuntarily pushed my hips back onto the sex toy.
Hrathr seemed to enjoy driving his point home, slowly pushing the golden rod up my crotch to allow me to grind against it, to ride it before attaching the straps to metal rings sewn into my suit to lock it in place. I braced myself for the inevitable effects of the Caribou’s infernal arts - I expected to be driven into maddening heat, or perhaps some form of mind-bending spell that would turn me into a slavish nymphomaniac. But besides the electric pleasure I experienced at the insertion of Dainn’s cock, I was surprised to seemingly feel…nothing else. My relief was not to last however. Mere moments later the bull pulled the black latex hood over my head, plunging me in complete darkness.
My dog mask tightly hugged my skin, wrapping around the back of my head and covering my entire face. As expected, the material was totally opaque, taking away my vision completely. Only my nostrils and mouth were left exposed. But now my perverse outfit was complete, which instantly activated the spells imbued in the material. No sooner did the rubber hood snap in place did a powerful chill course through my body, as icy as the northern winds. Rune magic raged through every fibre of my being, channeled into my brain by the incantations, spells and enchantments the Caribou rune masters had infused in the rubber. The initial experience was bewildering, like my mind was being warped by force, suggestion and compulsion.
These enchantments were of a wholly different level than I had ever suffered before. Rather than the subtle suggestive whispers that accompanied my earlier conditioning sessions, I could tell these were more forceful, overriding any thoughts of my own and steering my behavior and desires by compulsion. A maelstrom of rune magic flooded my body and mind, making the earlier effects seem like nothing. And amidst the storm I could somehow hear his voice, the voice of…my master. He spoke to me, authoritative and powerful above all the others; his very will permeated my being, bending me to the his designs and chaining me to his command. It was pure, absolute domination.
Panic gripped me as for a moment. It felt like I was losing my sanity as reality seemed to be warping; only through sheer mental strength and discipline did I manage to calm myself and suppress some of the effects. But my efforts to reassert some semblance of control were interrupted by the harsh sound of Hrathr’s voice.
“Tell me, cunt. What is your name?” the savage demanded of me.
His voice boomed inside my head. It was authoritative, commanding. My first instinct was to cower before this man. He was my superior, physically and mentally, and his presence demanded respect from a lowly slave like myself.
I am a cunt. My name…n-no, my slave name…my n-name….
It took me a moment to realize that my thoughts were under the heavy influence of powerful enchantments. Their effects bore into my brain, steering my mind down the sordid path chosen by my trainers. I struggled to wrest myself from their control, mustering up the strength of will to not give in to suggestion.
I…I am…
“I am Princess Celestia of Equestria,” I declared proudly, somehow finding the fortitude to resist.
My defiance was met with the instant crack of the whip, as expected. What I wasn’t prepared for however, was the intensity of the pain. It was searing. Excruciating. The Caribou’s accursed magic infused in my suit amplified the effects of my punishment greatly. The sharp pain of the initial lash felt like it cut to the bone, followed by an intense, dull pain radiating outward almost instantly. Tears welled up in my eyes as I clenched my teeth, curled up my body and balled up my fists as I desperately tried to bear my discipline with some degree of dignity. It was a futile effort. It felt like my bones were splitting, and soon a howl of pain escaped my lips as a wriggled helplessly on the floor. I could do little more than continue screaming, begging for the hellish burning to subside.
After what seemed like an eternity the effects of the spell slowly wore off, only to be replaced by the feeling of extreme terror, anxiety and mental perturbation. I was left panting and heaving as my heart pounded inside my chest, and soon I was reduced to a sweating and shaking mess. An irrational panic seemed to completely overtake me, and although I realized the violent emotions were magic-induced, it took considerable time and effort to regain my composure. It was horrible torture, both mental and physical.
“Let me ask you again, cunt,” Hrathr asked, having waited patiently for the enchantment to run its course. “What is your name?”
“Pr-princess…” I replied, managing to somehow muster up the strength of will to resist. But that was as far as I got.
The Caribou slaver immediately lashed his whip across my back, eliciting a bloodcurdling cry from my mouth. This time the pain was even more intense, and the aftermath of horror even more violent. I was left to scream as my tortured body contorted on the floor, sweating and gasping as the insidious spell overwhelmed my senses. The message was clear - defiance and recalcitrance would not be tolerated, and would be met by powerful negative reinforcement.
“Tell me your name, bitch!” the beast master barked at me. “And be warned that I won’t be so lenient on you this time!”
For a moment I considered mustering up force of will to continue resisting him, but pain and fear cowed my mind, and I shuddered at the prospect of bearing the brunt of the Caribou’s wrath. I did not want to, and could not suffer another horrifying experience like that. And in this moment of weakness, I once again felt the full force of the Caribou’s arcane skills.
Your name, bitch.
A bitch. The epithet suited an animal like myself. Any opposition to be called as such soon disappeared. I slowly opened my mouth.
My name…
The path of least resistance felt like the right decision to take. I knew the spell’s influence over my mind was increasing. Taking control. But it felt pleasant, and I understood that I had no other choice. I soon surrendered, giving in to suggestion and compulsion. Anything was better than being punished.
“My name is Sun Slut, Master Hrathr,” I heard myself speaking loudly and clearly. “I was given this name by my owner, Master Dainn.”
The words rolled off my tongue smoothly and with absolute conviction, like a phrase rehearsed countless of times. It was deeply humiliating to refer to myself by my slave name, not to mention referring to my captor as my master and owner. But instead of feeling disgust, I profoundly enjoyed my admission. It felt right, liberating me from the shackles that society placed upon me as a mare. In addition any lingering pain immediately ebbed away, further reinforcing my new self-image as a sex slave.
“Good girl, Sun Slut,” Hrathr’s praise sounded.
Good girl.
The phrase deeply reverberated in my mind. I was an obedient slave. It felt good to obey my trainer, both mentally and physically. Obedience was deeply gratifying, a powerful rush unlike anything I have experienced before. The words were instantly followed by the buzzing of the toy lodged inside my vagina. In line with the effects my latex prison imparted on me, the pleasure felt out of this world. Amplified. A loud, unreserved moan escaped my lips as I instinctively pushed my hips backwards, as if the phallus were attached to an actual stallion. Such was my captivation that at no point was I able to I suppress my wanton sluttiness - nor did I want to. It was the culmination of months of conditioning; the strong emotions that had been implanted in my mind and I had been made to associate with my praise were now magnified, and used to further my development into a submissive whore.
“Doesn’t it feel good to accept the name given to you by your master?” the Caribou beast master continued, as I drank up the pleasure of my humiliation. “But do not think you are the princess of Equestria any longer. Tell me, cunt, what is your new station in life?”
Your place, cunt.
I shivered with excitement at being called as such. A cunt. It was as demeaning and denigrating an epithet that could be given to a female - but by now any mental resistance and notion of decency had been completely suppressed, and I loved being called as such. To no longer be considered a princess or a pony, but a mere sex organ. My mind was set alight with arousal and pleasure as the runic enchantments worked their magic, twisting my personality, consolidating my learning, and leaving me craving for more.
“Sun S-slut…aah! I-is a sex slave, hah! Hand-picked by hnngh…Master Dainn to be trained into his bitch!” I managed to squeal, unable to contain my lustful moaning. “I am no longer a princess, ah, oooh! N-nor a pony! I am a mere animal now, a cock sleeve, a cunt! My…hhnngh! P-place is to obey and serve my master!”
The intensifying buzzing increased my pleasure exponentially.
“Again, slave,” Hrathr demanded sternly.
S-Sun Slut is a filthy cunt! A-a perverted bitch! I-I am an animal, below even the lowest of sex slaves, unfit to lick their hooves!” I screamed hoarsely.
It felt incredibly gratifying to humiliate and degrade myself in such a manner. It was like satisfying a long-repressed desire, and now that I had tasted the forbidden fruit I could not help but lust for more.
“Good girl,” Hrathr spoke. “Now cum, you filthy whore.”
Once again, his words drilled deeply into my mind, seemingly echoing inside my head.
Cum, whore.
Cum.
The moment the command sounded inside my head, I orgasmed. Violently. It definitely was not a natural reaction, even though the vibrator inside me had been rapidly pushing me towards the brink. It was a forcible, rune magic-inducted orgasm - powerful and mind-numbing. It took nothing away from the sexual gratification I experienced, and I was instantly reduced to a trembling mess, squirting vaginal fluids as my body convulsed. I moaned ecstatically as lost complete control, blacking out as my senses were overloaded with pleasure. I was left panting and shaking on the floor to ride out my orgasm. By the Sun it felt so, so good!
“As you can experience, it isn’t difficult for us to change a female’s behavior and character. The power we wield over you is absolute. We control your body and your mind, your desires, reward, punishment and arousal,” Hrathr spoke as I writhed and trembled in front of him. “Despite your misconceptions, you are just another pathetic female. A mere cunt ruled by sexual desire, and like any other animal, teachable through pleasure and punishment. By targeting the right areas of your useless brain, we can suppress certain undesirable aspects of your character, and amplify and develop those that will shape you into an obedient, submissive slave. It will take time, but through simple operant conditioning we will gradually change your personality, drawing out the wanton slut that has been lying dormant inside you for all to see.”
The strength and pervasiveness of the spells were alarming. The moment I had let myself be affected I lost control of my mind, my principles and desires. I turned into a completely different pony, a servile slave, happy to obey, behave and speak as her masters demanded. And as such I was made to experience sex and domination like a willing submissive would. What little conscious control I still possessed told me that I was being brainwashed, twisted to enjoy acting in ways that I would otherwise abhor.
Fear set as I became aware of the effectiveness of Hrathr’s new teaching methods. The Caribou would change me, corrupt my personality and transform me into their willing red collar slave. My faint sense of self preservation briefly regained the upper hand as the beast master’s words sank in.
“N-no, never!” I managed to utter as the effects of adrenaline kicked in. “You can’t do this to me! I’m not a sex toy that you can just remold and reprogram!”
The whip immediately lashed across my back. Hrathr was as consistent with his punishment as he was cruel. Searing pain overtook my senses once, overriding all of my thoughts as I writhed on the floor, immediately followed by horribly intense feelings of panic, terror and distress. I screamed in misery, much to the sadistic brute’s amusement.
“That’s it, Sun Slut. Endure,” Hrathr said, sounding almost pleased with my defiance. “Your resistance only serves to further your conditioning. The more you fight, the faster you will learn and the more you will fulfill your full potential as a sex slave. Learn to enjoy this. You won’t be released until you learn your lesson.”
I gritted my teeth in response, fearful of triggering repeated punishment from my trainer. I was loath to admit that he was right. It felt horrible to resist, and fighting would only enhance the effectiveness of his teachings. There was no way out, no way to protect myself from being indoctrinated. The slutty behavior they desired would be rewarded with equally powerful positive reinforcement, which over time would gradually mold me into a model slave.
“I have brought you a special gift from your master,” Hrathr said as I heard a bag rustling. “I’m sure it’ll trigger some fond memories in that empty brain of yours.”
Although I couldn’t see a thing, my nose instantly recognized the odor. It was a potent cocktail of pheromones, one that had become synonymous with raw attraction, pleasure and arousal. The scent of Dainn’s cock and balls permeated my nostrils, a powerful trigger of the incredibly vivid memories of my intimate time with the man, irrevocably etched into my brain during my imprinting. I found myself inhaling deeply, breathing raggedly as my primal senses were piqued by the bull’s masculine musk.
“Sniff it out like the bitch you are, Sun Slut,” the Hrathr’s command sounded.
“N-no, aah, no!” I wailed, as I tried to control my involuntary snuffling and snorting.
My resistance achieved nothing but the activation of the runic punishment spell.
No, cunt. Obey.
A magical chill instantly coursed through my body. It is horrifying, enfeebling and a very effective method of behavioral modification. The only way to find release from this torture was to cease resisting and comply with the directives given. The instant I followed my trainer’s orders the unsettling emotions were replaced by feelings of contentment, happiness and pleasure, reinforcing obedient behavior.
Obey.
I took a deep breath allowing the penetrating scent of cock and balls to fill my nostrils. It was unmistakably his scent. The scent of my master.
I moved an elbow forward, then a knee. Still unused to my restraints, I awkwardly crawled towards the source, using my nose as a guide. With each inhalation I caught a waft of pheromones which sent my head spinning, inducing even deeper, ragged breaths. My nostrils flared. The more I smelled, the more I craved, and the more aroused I became. As I closed in on my prize the scent increased, until it became as intense as I remembered the real thing.
I was right in front of it.
“Open your mouth, cunt,” the order sounded.
I could feel my lips parting. I wanted it so bad. I needed that cock in my mouth. The last, fleeting moments of control were suppressed, replaced with an overpowering directive.
Obey, slave. OBEY.
I stretched out my neck, opening my mouth wide while hungrily sticking out my tongue as far as I could. Hrathr had brought a penis-shaped fluid dispenser, and inserted the sex toy deeply down my throat. Feeling Dainn’s cock slide down my throat was heavenly. I savored each bump, ridge and vein as it pressed past my lips and over my tongue. It was clear that in the months that had past my love for his stallionhood had not diminished; in fact my constant lusting for it had turned into a deep, intense craving, and I was now unable to contain myself.
“MMMH! NHHH!” I moaned wantonly as I started sucking the rubber phallus, moving my head back and forth along the sex toy.
It was an almost involuntary, instinctive reaction. For my slutty act I received the greatest prize I could have wished for. Hrathr squeezed the bottle, allowing its contents to pour down my throat. It was Dainn’s…wonderful, delicious seed. I was completely hooked from the first drop, greedily suckling the toy as I lost complete control of my senses. It had been months since I last tasted him; it was every bit as good as I had been made to remember. As the sticky fluid filled my mouth I swirled it across my tongue for as long as I could, savoring every gulp as the beast master emptied the container into my stomach. In truth, I enjoyed it more than the war beast semen I am gradually learning to love, slurping the viscous liquid down loudly as the bottle slowly drained.
But to my disappointment the bottle soon ran dry. I locked my lips around the shaft, gripping it for as long as Hrathr would let me, ensuring I lapped up every last drop of my feed. Like when I was wrested away from Dainn when my imprinting ended, it felt gut-wrenching to be away from his cock, or at least his physical shape, once more.
“M-more master, please!” I cried, keeping my mouth wide open to offer its use. “I need more, I need Master Dainn’s cock, his cum! Please, stick it down my throat!”
“In time, Sun Slut,” Hrathr spoke, satisfied that my suit was performing as it should. “Once you become a well-trained, obedient bitch, I will feed you all the sperm you want.”
My behavior was sordid, utterly perverted. Undeniable proof of how far I have fallen, of just how much the Caribou have managed to change me.
But I loved it. I had no other choice.
