Fall of Equestria: Queens of Spade

by Bakesale

Rating: mature
Tags: Coco Pommel, Original Character, Suri Polomare, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Pie Sisters, Other, Sex, Dark, Alternate Universe, Anthro
Length: 3017

Set in the Fall of Equestria AU. A guard captain by the name of Spades seeks to tame those who do not accept the caribou's rule, male or female. Contains M/F and M/M Rape, Gender Transformation and Impregnation.

Inspired by Astray's The Gilded Cage. It's been about a year since Equestria's fall to the Caribou, give or take. Countless mares have been collared and made slaves to a society of lust and depravity - heroes, nobles, princesses, all have been made into the playthings of males.

Surprisingly, pockets of resistance still exist in this new world. A member of Equestria's former and now current military, Spades seeks to tame them, and anything else that stands in the way of sexual conquest. This usually means the claiming of mares, but you would be surprised at the number of stallions whom need some re-education of their own, too.

This story will contain M/F and M/M Rape, Gender Transformation and Impregnation. The picture I used is an unauthorized edit of this picture by Polar Puff.

Published 2017-02-21 05:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-21 05:50:01 UTC

Chapter One: Equity

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-- Chapter One: Equity --

“Nnnn.. there.”

The satisfaction I felt from a proper preening was one I could only relate with other pegasi. A unicorn could perhaps empathize the feeling of elation when they filed and shaped their horns, though the method and what was perceived as attractive, I could only hazard a guess at both. A horn was a tool to manipulate and master the arcane, but wings were a second set of limbs that allowed you to become intimate in skies that the grounded could only grasp at with technology and spells of cloudwalking that would only hint at what a pegasus understood at his core.

My wing folded to join its twin in folding behind me, and I admired the symmetry as I turned this way and that in the mirror. It was satisfying to maintain the body’s landscaping, but making sure every single one of those slate gray plumes were in proper alignment was taxing in time. I let one of my similarly gray fingers brush along a row of meticulously oiled feathers as my own emerald orbs were centered in my gaze, and it occurred to me then and there that grooming could be a responsibility better assigned to a slave. I toyed around with the thought of a vaguely feminine shape behind me, reaching in places I could not with ease. My tongue began running along my upper row of teeth as I watched my reflection’s finger coil several of the long, violet strands that made up my mane around itself. The positioning of my hand brought a significant portion of my long mane over one of my verdant eyes, giving me the appearance of something bordering on androgynous.

A glance below my collarbone would have dispelled the illusion immediately. A guard should look like a guard, and my mane was the only exception. A coy smile beamed at me in the mirror at memories of instances both before and after the Fall, where a flirty phrase or a groping hand immediately turned sour when I faced them. My masculinity was defined in the shape of my muscles, the shape of my muzzle and, nowadays, the presence of clothing and unplucked wings. Still, there would be the occasional buck that had an impression of femininity even so long since our integration with the caribou, and I took a perverse joy in correcting these impressions. But alas, the mane served to make my fantasizing easier.

I pictured my fantasy mare’s shape as something on the slimmer side, as pegasi typically were due to the generally high metabolism to sustain the body’s need for energy and lightweight for flight. She would be a petite thing that, once her duties were complete, would be another easy to access plaything of lust. I felt my sheath swell as the mental image of this demure mare being tossed around like the toy she was, to be pressed against a wall or bent over a counter to be ravaged with wild abandon. I felt my fingers run through my mane, the idea of running the same through the mane of such a mare so tantalizing to me. I’d run them down her neck, using her shoulder for leverage before they would run down to knead and grasp at her..

.... Wing covers.

My smile had diminished immediately, and the stallion who looked at me in the mirror did so with revulsion, my wings doing a self-conscious flutter behind me. Wing covers that matched that of the slave collars were an ordinary sight, but they were a ghastly change that I.. simply couldn’t find myself advocating. It was admittedly far better than amputation, which was the case for unicorns. I heard the reasonings caribou and other stallions had explained to me, that a mare had no need for such things. Clearly, they were correct in the merits of social standing the virtues of ownership over equality, but at that point one could argue that if blood loss weren’t a problem, mares also didn’t have a use for feet with some paltry justification about a mare needing no guidance besides being dragged by a leash, or something similarly archaic.

I brushed those locks of violet behind my shoulder, making my way out of the restroom down a short, unlit hall. A true master wouldn’t care if a mare had these amenities because she would be trained to not abuse them, or else suffer the consequences. By removing access to a mare’s horn and wings, you remove one of the few erogenous zones unique to equinity. I could still screw any mare that crossed my path at the wrong time - and often did regardless of species, mind you - but the tiny stumps on foreheads and the unnatural twitch of those covers gave me the eerie feeling of playing with a broken toy. I wanted something new to play with, which was near impossible to find these days, considering damn near every mare and her mother had been raped by dozens of males at this point.

I stepped through the doorway to my bedroom, and in the low light radiating from a bedside lamp, I saw the still form of my answer to this predicament. She was an earth pony, and the only slave I owned at this point in time. As such, there were no rounded scars on her vanilla-colored head nor obnoxious wing covers to assault my vision. I quietly slipped onto my creakless bed, settling in next to my pet. Like most mares, she wore nothing but the scarlet leather collar that fit snugly around her neck.

I watched her chest rise and fall beside me, steady and slow as my fingertips traced over her slim, cream-colored belly. She did not stir, and no traces of animosity or frustration showed on the mare's face. In her arms, her normally delicate hands clutched tight to one of the comforters on my bed in a hug, her thighs mirroring the motion. This spooning position had left her facing me, and I felt a smile grace my lips as my hand drifted to stroke over her short mane, stopping at her neck to press on the leather of her collar as my mind wandered. I recalled seeing so many emotions pass over this young mare's face - fear, pain, uncertainty, acceptance, lust and even affection. In contrast to all these shades of emotion, her expression was nothing but calm, peaceful and serene.

It was seldom that a female could feel at ease in today's world, but if there was any mare who I felt deserved it, it was this one. In the new world, a mare's purpose was to serve her betters, and few knew that duty better than Coco Pommel. I felt at her lips, and they parted without disturbance as I ruminated. I often gauged mares in this new world - the often animalistic responses from a purple collar when you sank inside of her, the defiant tightness of a black collar who loathed every moment you were inside them to the welcoming sureness that a red collar would often penetrate themselves willingly.. though how willingly was up to debate.

Coco had never defied me. Yes, she had been terrified, especially at the beginnings of the Fall of Equestria by it's caribou usurpers. There was never any physical resistance, never hesitation to perform a task she understood. No, the only time I ever knew her to not obey me were to clarify my orders - and that was always with a 'sir'. I didn't even have to tell her to do that, something that I understood even some red collars still have a problem remembering today. I began plucking away at the comforter, letting it slip from her fingers until my pet lay on her back, hands somewhat folded across her chest in the same clutching motion. It squeezed her small breasts against her own chest, something I found as adorable as I did sexy. My fingers found a new target to probe with - between those cream-colored thighs that sweet Coco left splayed open, spreading my pet's puffy pussylips with my index and ring finger. With my middle, I pushed then between, slowly stroking and sinking the digit past her labia into her vagina.

Coco's breath became heavier almost instantly, but her position did not change besides the slightest squirming of her legs. Even unconscious, she did not close her legs, which allowed me to push my finger deeper as feminine musk hit my nostrils and coated my finger. These motions became progressively quicker, a wet schlicking sounding through my bedroom as I felt my sheath swell rapidly. Molesting a sleeping mare was a lost art, I felt, in a world where one simply mounted their quarry indiscriminately instead of at least trying at foreplay. Why not go the extra length to prepare your pet for the purpose it served? Besides making the process of me mounting her easier, I felt a sense of joy watching her lips part, a gasp escaping the earth pony's lips as I fingered her.

Eventually, my middle finger lifted as I did from lying down, turning and beginning to straddle the prone mare. I rested the shaft of my member against her loins, feeling the dampness of her lower lips like the soft kisses of her upper ones whenever the task at hand was to perform oral, and perform she did. I clutched under Coco's knees and lifted her legs as I hovered over her, adjusting myself so my tip was aimed right and proper at her sex. In the dim light of my bedroom, I saw the flush of her face as her breath was still quick and hot.

Instinctively, Coco's hands reached out and latched onto my shoulders as I invaded her. I saw a precious second of transitioning into consciousness as her eyes opened wide, dreary and uncertain. She was no doubt unsure of where she was, and seemed surprised by the moan that I thrusted out of her. I watched her head whirl this way and that, trying to make sense of what she woke up to with a grin on my face - in a way, I didn’t blame her, because being fucked was the new norm - you couldn’t count on it to gauge your position.

Eventually her gaze settled on the stallion who was fucking her, and so settled her nerves. I felt her thighs hug around my waist as they once did my blanket, her heels meeting somewhere on my back as I drove my cock into her body again and again with little restraint. I never intended to hurt my pet with my preferred method of roughly fucking her, but if she ever had a problem, she hardly ever mentioned it. I often had to illicit an answer from her, and the answer was often me having my way with her had left soreness and bruising along her inner thighs. “Of course,” she would add, “I’m still ready for anything else you need of me, sir.” Coco Pommel, always a trooper.

I saw the lustful haze that fell over my mare’s eyes, her mouth hanging open with shuddering gasps as she willingly subjected herself to my attention. I heard and felt the wet, heavy slapping of my balls against her rump - and such a rump it was, round enough to be cute without being too curvy, just enough to be supple and squeezable. The sight and feeling of her squeezing around me, still so very tight after Sun knew how many fucks.. My nostrils flared, and I jerked back a little too much with a sudden return stroke, my cock slipping away from her snatch. In a fluid motion, I began turning her by her knees. It was another testament to how much of a good mare she was when she picked up on my nonverbal command, turning so that she was on her knees with that cute ass of hers directed towards me, tail raised high.

Again, we slipped into coitus with seamless synchronicity. My thumb pressed her tail against her back, pinning it there while I bounced Coco on my lap with the same rhythm and intensity as before. Her short, sky blue mane bounced with her, and my eyes fixated on the hypnotic motion while my hips set into a rhythm of steady pumping. It was a gift of mine of sorts - once I became “in the zone” as it were, stamina and durability became invulnerable to depletion. With this ability, my cock had made many a mare’s knees buckle, and a vacant look to come over them long before I could reach orgasm. Coco once again proved herself to be an exemplary specimen of a mare when she kept up with me as five minutes turned to ten, ten turned to twenty and twenty turned into timelessness. I didn’t care. All that existed was the both of us in this room, in our minds.

With this bizarre endurance that I found myself with, there was one caveat that came with it, though I don’t consider it much of a problem at all: When I did come close to climax, it took so very, very long - a “quickie” was next to impossible. Again, though, it seemed worth it in the end. Each of these pinnacles of pleasure were bountiful in volume and intense in sensation, so the time spent always seemed worth it, to me. I didn’t keep track of time, and I was unsure when i went from upright on my knees to hunching over her petite body, driving her ass and hips into my bed. I was dimly aware of Coco’s shift from moaning to a stretch of haggard, animalistic grunts in between an occasional sudden tightening around me.. Orgasms, I supposed. It’s not like I stopped to ask, as I was rather preoccupied. She had one cheek pressed to my mess of bedsheets and pillows below us, and I saw one cerulean eye stare up at me.

I wanted to see more of her eyes. Again, I began adjusting her, this time by my grasp on her hip. She seemed a little lost in the lovemaking, judging from her slow reaction time - so very unlike her, unless she was balls-deep into it.. Pun intended. Anyway, I turned Coco onto her side and held up one of her knees, allowing me to drill into my pet sideways. This position gave me the best of views - I could see Coco’s cute butt jiggling in response to me slamming it again and again, but I could also see her puss stretched tight around my shaft as I drilled into her soaking insides. The slight wobble of her small chest didn’t really do much for me - I wasn’t much of a breast stallion in the first place.

But those beautiful blue eyes..

Coco Pommel could’ve stolen my heart, before the fall. Her eyes had this captivating quality that even now had me lean closer while the pace of my thrusting grew more erratic. I felt one of her hands on my cheek as those wonderful eyes lidded, and I was lost in her lips as much as I was her eyes. I couldn’t complain with how events played out - one way or another, this mare was mine. This thought resonated with me as I felt a surge in my loins in the midst of my thrusting, even as my tip flared inside of the mare and stretched her even further. Coco’s eyes widened, then lidded as my cock pulsed within her, pouring splash after splash of cum inside of her body. Our lips parted during my climax, her breath hot against my lips and a newfound vigor in my loins as she simply.. Lay there, staring back at me with an exhausted calmness about her.

I don’t know what it was exactly, but having a mare just accept your cum is the hottest thing in the planet, to me. She didn’t need to say anything, and so she didn’t. We both knew who belonged to who. Coco watched as I began sliding my hip back, my ebony rod freeing itself from her inch by inch, lathered as it was with our fluids. When the tip left her lower lips, it was immediately followed by a steady drip of thick, gooey cum between thighs that closed, her knees pressed together. I watched with silent admiration as Coco, true to her duty as always, winced but maneuvered herself over, her delicate fingers finding purchase on the base of my stallionhood. With a mare’s confidence, I felt her tongue run over the front of my shaft. I let her lick away our sexual juices as my member twitched, dregs of cum beading at the top - dregs Coco would greedily swipe up with her tongue, followed by her starting to push the thing that just ravaged her body right between her lips.

I left her to it, letting myself ease back into laying in my bed. This several hour fuck that didn’t go on to more fucking, more orgasms and sometimes even more mares, this was my version of a quickie. I felt my eyelids become heavy as Coco stuffed me into her gullet, feeling her fingers feel along and squeeze the balls hanging beneath. I wondered if I would wake again during the night to me emptying myself in her again. As it stood, I was already going to pay for this tomorrow with tomorrow's fatigue on a small expedition Southwest. Something about a rural settlement that a resistance might have been taking refuge.. the specifics eluded me. As sleep began to overwhelm my mind, a profound thought struck me.

Anypony who doesn’t take their mares to bed with him is a damned fool...

Author's Note

First chapter of the first story I've posted on Fimfiction! I'm anxious to see how this goes over. :coolphoto: