120 Days of Blueblood

"It is not my mode of thought that has caused my misfortunes, but the mode of thought of others."

— Marquis de Sade

It was morning in Equestria. Canterlot Castle began the day surrounded by an angry mob, who were there to dethrone the royal family. While most of the rebels were dragging the libertines outside for their trial and execution, at least one pony had entered the castle on a rescue mission.

Sister Sunflower ran through the deserted corridors, calling out the names of her lost orphans.

“Scootaloo!” she cried, “Featherweight! Truffle Shuffle! Pipsqueak!”

It had been four long months since the children were taken from her orphanage. During that time, Sister Sunflower had spent many sleepless nights worried about their safety. After Sister Spectrum received a divine call to rescue the children, Sister Sunflower prayed for her friend’s protection as she risked her life. In the end, Sister Sunflower was unable to stop Sister Spectrum from being publicly raped and beheaded.

Attendance at the Church of the Holy Sisters was at an all-time low after Celestia and Luna were revealed to be cannibalistic mass murderers. In spite of Canterlot losing their religion, many still held firm to the moral principles of their faith.

Sister Sunflower was one such individual. She had lost her best friend to the sadistic prince and was determined to honor her memory. Sister Sunflower reasoned that the only fitting tribute for Sister Spectrum was to complete her quest to rescue the orphans.

In order to do that, she sought out a small band of rebels who plotted to overthrow the princesses. They met in secret; using Sister Sunflower’s church as a base of operations for the rebellion. As the numbers of outraged citizens began to swell, the rebel leaders set their sights on Canterlot Castle.

Sister Sunflower ran through the long hallways; checking each deserted room. She was sapped of energy and slowly sinking into despair. She feared that she would never find the children in this labyrinthine castle. They might be already dead for all she knew.

She reflected back on happier times; when she taught the children to offer prayers to the royal sisters and praise them with song. In light of recent events, all such memories now carried a bitter aftertaste.

“The Sisters love me. This I know,” Sister Sunflower sang, half-heartedly, “For their letters tell me so.”

Sister Sunflower stopped in the throne room of the royal sisters. She stared at huge paintings of Celestia and Luna which adorned the walls. There was an unpleasant odor in the room, which Sister Sunflower couldn’t quite identify. She felt prompted to offer prayers to Celestia and Luna in the hopes that they might inspire her search. Sister Sunflower felt a pit form in her stomach when she realized that the royal sisters couldn’t help anypony anymore; not even themselves.

“It was all I lie,” Sister Sunflower said, “I was blind; not knowing whom I worshipped.”

Sister Sunflower rested her head on the windowsill and began to weep. She looked up into the sky and thought of her friend.

“Sister Spectrum,” Sister Sunflower said as she prayed vocally, “I know not where your soul has gone, but if you can hear me, please aid me in finding those young innocent souls who are lost.”

She closed her eyes and listened for an answer. Sister Sunflower focused and could hear the faint sounds of children’s laughter emanating from within the castle garden. The source of the noise was obscured by a large hedge.

Feeling a sudden burst of energy, Sister Sunflower galloped from the throne room and down to the garden. She wasn’t prepared for what she found when she arrived.

On a patch of dead grass, her four orphans were engaged in a sexual orgy of unrivaled perversity. Two fillies, which the nun didn’t recognize, were also committing lewd acts. The visceral nature of their barbaric carnality made it impossible for the nun to avert her eyes.

Four months of stringent conditioning by the libertines had finally broken their resolve. The minds of the six children were gone. There was no consent. There was no love. Just a perpetuation of brutal rape fueled by animalistic lust. Their desire to achieve orgasm took precedence over all else.

Scootaloo was grinding her vagina against a mare’s skull as she stared vacantly into space. All of the flesh had been picked clean from the skull. Scootaloo’s labia lips were red and raw. Not even the burning pain in her loins could dissuade her from rubbing her mound against the skull, which was slick from her juices.

“Bless my unworthy cunt, Sister Spectrum!” Scootaloo screamed in excruciating ecstasy, “Purify my pussy and make me cum! Take me to heaven with you!”

It suddenly dawned on Sister Sunflower whose skull Scootaloo was violating. She felt as though she would be sick.

Scootaloo was the only child who still possessed the ability to speak. The other children were too far removed to form words. All they could do was grunt and scream while fornicating like wild beasts. Scootaloo’s connection to Sister Spectrum was the only thing that preserved her language center. She had become lost in her own make-believe world of pleasant memories, which had become corrupted by the libertines’ indoctrination.

The children were covered in a mix of shit, piss, vomit and cum. If the sight wasn’t enough to make Sister Sunflower want to vomit, the smell would’ve further compelled her to puke.

Young Pipsqueak’s face had been mutilated. An empty socket was all that remained of his left eye. It didn’t stay vacant for long, though. Featherweight mounted Pipsqueak’s head and stuck the tip of his cock into the colt’s darkened eye hole.

Featherweight made unintelligible moans, as his tongue had been cut out. All of his feathers had been plucked, leaving him to flap his useless wings against his back. Pipsqueak lay there as the colt’s member thrust inside his face. Featherweight's mouth hung open as he drooled saliva onto Pipsqueak.

A gray filly, whom Sister Sunflower had never seen before, was sucking on Pipsqueak’s hardened shaft. In spite of his balls having already been thoroughly drained, Silver Spoon tried to coax more semen out onto her already cum-covered face. Pipsqueak’s remaining eye rolled listlessly in his head as he felt another orgasm building.

Truffle Shuffle had mounted a pink filly and was sodomizing her while shoving her face into a pile of shit. Rather than sobbing due to her anal assault, Diamond Tiara smiled psychotically as she feasted on feces. She imagined that her father was raping her. Truffle Shuffle had been specifically trained by Filthy Rich, so the chubby colt’s mannerisms reflected those of his late teacher.

Sister Sunflower was too stunned to move. She began to weep over the loss of their innocence and sanity.

“Too late,” Sister Sunflower said, quietly, “I was too late.”

Featherweight’s tongueless mouth made an unintelligible groan as he pulled out of Pipsqueak’s eye socket and came all over his face. Ejaculation splattered in Pipsqueak’s vacant socket and slid down his cheek, which created the illusion that he was crying cum. This caused a chain reaction, which resulted in Pipsqueak’s own orgasm. His excessive number of recent ejaculations had resulted in serious medical complications.

Blood vessels in his prostate had burst, so when he came on Silver Spoon’s face, his semen was red and bloody. Pipsqueak screamed in tormented titillation as Silver Spoon swallowed his bloody cum.

Truffle Shuffle had grown increasingly violent and domineering since his repeated sodomies from Filthy Rich. The chubby colt’s rectum was filled with anal warts, which made him feel as though his sphincter was constantly on fire; a parting gift from Filthy Rich. The only way to assuage the pain of his ruinous rectal reamings was through a constant stream of orgasms.

He intensified his thrusting into Diamond Tiara’s ass as he neared his climax. She clenched her shit-stained teeth as her rectum was lubed with the colt’s ample amount of precum.

Just before ejaculating, Truffle Shuffle cried out in anger and used a forehoof to deliver blunt force trauma to the back of Diamond Tiara’s head. She fell unconscious, face first, into a half-eaten pile of shit. Truffle Shuffle shook his hips frantically as he pumped semen into the unconscious filly’s asshole. Her rectum tightened as she unconciously milked the jizz from his cock. Truffle Shuffle unconsciously clenched his diseased sphincter, which caused an orange pus to dribble from his ass as he came.

Once he removed his member from her tight hole, Truffle Shuffle began sucking his own cum out of Diamond Tiara’s ass.

“I’m... I’m flying, Sister Spectrum!” Scootaloo said as she orgasmed. She wept with joy as she felt the familiar feeling of climax. The libertines had clipped Scootaloo’s wings; which now hung limply on her back. She would never fly. Oblivious to the horrifying reality which surrounded her, Scootaloo was lost in her fantasy world. She screamed Sister Spectrum’s name as she ejaculated onto her mentor’s skull.

Sister Sunflower closed her eyes and looked away. After a momentary rest, the children changed partners and positions and resumed their orgy.

Featherweight rolled Diamond Tiara’s unconscious body onto her back so she wouldn’t suffocate in shit. He then inserted his cock inside her pussy and began raping her. Featherweight pressed his lips against her cheek he tried to lick the shit from her face, but this was made more difficult since he no longer possessed a tongue.

Pipsqueak’s flaccid phallus was red from the blood in his last orgasm. He no longer possessed the strength to stand, let alone achieve another erection. Truffle Shuffle didn’t require his victim to be aroused. All he needed was a tight hole and minimal struggling. Truffle Shuffle rolled the exhausted Pipsqueak onto his belly. Without pausing to apply lube, Truffle Shuffle inserted his shaft into Pipsqueak’s shit chute. In his weakened state, Pipsqueak couldn’t scream. Even though the sting of his rough sodomy was unbearable, the most he could do was make several uncomfortable moans. Truffle Shuffle’s balls slapped repeatedly against Pipsqueak’s sensitive sack. The rough thrusting caused Pipsqueak to lose more blood as it flowed from the fresh tears in his rectal walls. Truffle Shuffle’s cock was soon coated crimson from Pipsqueak’s bleeding anus.

Without any cocks to suck, Silver Spoon and Scootaloo formed a sixty-nine position and began eating each other out. Scootaloo’s labia lips were raw to the point where giving her cunnilingus was tantamount to licking sandpaper.

Sister Sunflower knew that the children would never be fit to live in normal pony society. Their minds had been obliterated by libertine indoctrination. They were six lost souls; without conscience or restraint. She resolved to take them back to her orphanage, where she would hide them from prying eyes. She would set up a small patch of land, where she could care for them in secret. She knew that they were her burdens to bear now.

Some of the rebels ventured deep into the underground catacombs and managed to rescue the recently captured victims of the orgy and release them from the rape dungeon. For some, they were too late. Several mares had already died from their injuries or had taken their own lives by strangling themselves with their iron chains. For those who committed suicide, the trauma of their recent rape and prospect of life as a sexual slave was too much to bear.

Sitting in an adjoining cell was the buggered baker, who was the only stallion captured. Upon being freed by the rebels, he limped past the mare’s cell and saw his wife’s corpse. Her body had been racked with guilt, shame and multiple orgasms. She had traded her happy life for the promise of potential power. She took her own life shortly after her imprisonment. Her bowels had vacated, which left her limp body hanging from a chain over a pile of her own shit. The baker tried to feel anger towards his wife, but nothing came. Devoid of sorrow or pity, the baker was emotionally-dead inside. All that remained was a desire to continue living and be reunited with his two children.

As the rebels helped the survivors out of the rape dungeon, one young victim seemed to be in a daze. She kept babbling on about the wonderful time she had.

“I had tho much fun,” the lisping filly said vacantly as she was escorted out of the castle, “The princetheth threw thuch a nithe party.”

The filly was delusional and had erected mental blocks in order to preserve her sanity.

She suppressed thoughts of her repeated rape, even though her body was glazed in dried semen.

“I can’t wait to get home and tell my mama all about it,” The filly said. These words caused her to pause. As though a switch had been flipped in her brain. Mentioning the word ‘mama’ triggered a slew of traumatizing memories. She vividly recalled her rape and violent impregnation. She remember screaming for her mother until her voice gave out.

At that moment, her legs collapsed beneath her. She slumped on the ground and began to sob uncontrollably. One of the rebels lifted her up and put her on his back as he carried her out of the castle.

The vacated cells of the rape dungeon were soon filled with captured members of the royal guard. In spite of their inferior numbers, the rebellion overcame all royal opposition with relatively few casualties. The numerous guards were still too weak from their marathon orgy to properly defend the castle. They would be forced to stay in the dungeon until the rebel leaders could decide on a fitting punishment for the guards’ numerous atrocities.

After being removed from the castle, the libertines were led by the rebels through the city streets. The same crowds which had cheered for Prince Blueblood’s cruelty were now celebrating his capture. Their previous submissive expressions were made out of fear and a desire for self-preservation. Now that the libertines had been overthrown, there was no need for the average citizenry to pretend anymore. Their contempt for the royal family was palpable. The uncouth rabble gnashed their teeth and cursed the names of the libertines as they were led to their doom.

The small percentage of genuine libertine loyalists were quick to abandon all outward expressions of sympathy towards the royal family, in order to conform to the rebellion’s sense of morality. Blueblood’s hired assassin Night Shade attempted to conceal his identity beneath a cloak as he blended in with the crowd.

Blueblood and his aunts were led to the guillotine. Unlike Filthy Rich, Blueblood’s other friends had managed to be captured alive. Fancy Pants and Fleur were already on the stage as they stared out into the mob of bloodthirsty rebels.

Blueblood’s bride stood in the front row of the crowd, where she was carefully guarded on either side by two strong stallions. After having been rescued from the libertines, the groundskeeper was eager to return to her garden and block this nightmarish experience from her mind. She had endured her genital mutilation and survived her marriage to Prince Blueblood with her virginity intact. The seal of sodomy was hidden from view by her pink tail. She planned on removing the hardened wax from her bottom at the first opportunity. Her heartbeat quickened as she looked up at Blueblood and his friends. The jingling of her bell couldn’t be heard over the cheers of the throng as the libertines were marched to the guillotine.

The groundskeeper decided that when she returned to her garden she would topple the statues of the royal family. She wanted nothing which would remind her of the traumatic experience she had endured.

The teeming masses of ponies which surrounded the stage had the groundskeeper boxed in on all sides. Even though she was a pegasus, the groundskeeper was too emotionally exhausted to fly. Since walking was her only option, she would have to wait until the crowd dispersed before she could go home.

Even if the groundskeeper had been able to leave right then, she would’ve chosen to stay to witness the executions. She wasn’t a vindictive mare, but she did want to see the libertines pay for their rapes and murders. The groundskeeper felt safe in the knowledge that Blueblood couldn’t hurt her anymore.

As Trixie walked past the groundskeeper, she stopped for a moment to comfort her.

“Fear not,” Trixie said, “You are safe now.”

The stallions on either side of the groundskeeper nodded. They would ensure that no harm befell her. Blueblood’s bride felt her heart swell with gratitude for having been rescued. She nodded her head softly.

After wiping away the groundskeeper’s joyful tears, Trixie marched up the steps and confidently strode past Prince Blueblood. With a dramatic turn, she unfurled her flowing cape and addressed the assembled crowd.

“Citizens of Canterlot,” Trixie said, “We have dethroned these despotic degenerates disguised as deities! The blood of their countless victims cries out for justice! Are we deaf to their pleas?”

“No!” the crowd shouted in unison. The groundskeeper flinched from the loud noises. Trixie had the crowd in the palm of her hooves.

“Death to the tyrannical libertine swine!” Trixie yelled.

“Death to the tyrannical libertine swine!” the crowd echoed as they stomped their hooves.

While Trixie continued her speech, Luna looked longingly at Celestia and gave a heavy sigh.

“Well, sister, we had a good run,” Luna said, with a hint of melancholy in her voice.

“Yes,” Celestia said, “Although it would’ve been nice to have bathed in the blood of a virgin just one more time.”

“Indeed,” Luna said, wistfully, “Few earthly pleasures could compare to the ecstasy of the rejuvenation ritual.”

Blueblood’s heart was pounding. He had drank the blood of life. He felt younger than he had in years, yet he knew his life would soon be over. He had eternal youth, but he was not immortal. His body wouldn’t age, but it would decay if his head became separated from his body.

“I don’t want to go,” Blueblood thought, anxiously.

He and his aunts had successfully managed to preserve their youth and beauty, while halting the relentless march of time. They had succeeded in stopping death itself, but a rabble of unicorn farmers with pitchforks proved too powerful for them to overcome. After a momentary pause, Blueblood addressed Celestia and Luna.

“My dear aunts,” Blueblood said, sadly, “It is my fault we are here. My reckless behavior has led to our downfall.”

Celestia and Luna looked at each other with uncertainty, before both turning their heads to face Prince Blueblood. They reasoned that there should be no secrets between them in the face of death.

“In the interest of full disclosure, there is something we wish to confess,” Celestia said, “We did order that rainbow-maned nun to kill you.”

Blueblood had suspected that Celestia and Luna orchestrated his assassination attempt, but he dismissed such notions as paranoid delusions. Fleur and Fancy Pants perked up their ears as they listened to the princesses’ confession.

“What?!” Blueblood said, aghast, “Why?”

“We thought you were too bold in your actions,” Luna said, “Our concern was that your infamous hedonism would turn the populace against us.”

“It would seem that our fears were well-founded,” Celestia said, as she nodded her head towards the guillotine.

Blueblood paused for a moment to reflect upon his aunts’ words. He bowed his head and gave a defeated sigh.

“So not only do my subjects conspire against me, but I can’t even trust my family,” Blueblood said, bitterly.

Fancy Pants and Fleur looked away and hid their heads in shame. Blueblood wondered if they pitied him, or if they had been plotting against him as well. It seems like there was no one he could trust.

“Perhaps this world would’ve been better off without me,” Blueblood said, “Equestria was never strong enough for me to rule over it.”

Celestia leaned in and nuzzled Blueblood’s neck affectionately.

“Do not apologize, dear nephew,” Celestia said, “We are glad the attempted assassination failed. Even if we were too afraid to admit it at the time, the world needs you.”

Blueblood looked over at Celestia and gave a half-hearted smile. His other friends nodded in agreement.

“You’re the best among us,” Fancy Pants said, “You always were.”

“Tis true,” Luna said, “You showed us what it truly meant to be a libertine.”

“You awakened within us a desire for public orgies, which had lay dormant for centuries,” Celestia said, “We have existed as princesses for more than an eon, but for centuries we never truly lived life to the fullest. We had grown complacent and content with compromise. We feared incurring the wrath of our subjects, so we became aloof and made ourselves Goddesses. This separation allowed us to continue our depraved deeds in secret. Our own fear of dying forced us to hide our indulgent actions from the world.”

“Thanks to your example, we now realize that the fear of death is the only real death,” Luna said, “That mortal terror prevented us from living our lives to the fullest for so long.”

“You’re the freest spirit who ever lived,” Fleur said, “No other pony has been so fully-dedicated to the pursuit of personal pleasure. Your lack of moral restraint is a true inspiration to libertines everywhere.”

While the libertines continued to praise Prince Blueblood, the groundskeeper watched from the front row. Blueblood gazed down and looked her in the eye. She shuddered as he gave her a creepy wink.

Trixie stood in front of the guillotine as she addressed the crowd. She thanked them for their courage in these dark and troubled times, while condemning the libertines for their selfish and immoral ways.

“Standing before you today are several ponies whose souls have become corrupted by libertine philosophy,” Trixie said, “Celestia and Luna conducted their atrocities in secret for generations, while tempting a select few into following their false notions of pleasure, unbound by conscience. Their ruse as Goddesses might have lasted indefinitely, if it wasn’t for their nephew, whose brazenness brought their dark deeds to light.”

Trixie was trying to sully Prince Blueblood with her remarks, but he wore her criticisms like badges of honor.

“Blueblood’s unbridled quest for pleasure led him down a path of self-destruction,” Trixie said, “He is a combination of narcissism, delusional grandiosity, infantile anality, and perverse exhibitionism.”

As Trixie continued her remarks, Celestia, Luna, Fancy Pants and Fleur looked respectfully at Prince Blueblood, who was beaming with pride. Due to his tightened cock ring, he was still sporting a massive erection for all to see. His friends smiled at his blatant indecency, even in the face of certain death. Blueblood grinned.

“Before you submit yourselves to the judgements of the law, do you have anything to say in your defense?” Trixie asked Blueblood.

"The cold and impersonal rule of law is estranged to the passions which are able to justify our wanton acts of carnality,” Blueblood said.

Trixie wrinkled her nose at Blueblood and gave him a look of contempt, before turning to face the huddled masses.

“Trixie shall rid our green and pleasant land of their corrupting blight, once and for all!” Trixie said to the crowd, before getting the attention to her lieutenants, “Bring the profane pigs to their slaughter.”

Fancy Pants was led to the guillotine first. Fleur nuzzled his neck one last time, before he was taken away. In spite of the mortal peril, Fancy Pants’ shaft began to poke from its sheath. The threat of imminent death was quite arousing to him.

Once Fancy Pants had reached the guillotine, he was fully hard. The lanky lieutenant positioned his head onto the chopping block. Trixie glared at him, contemptuously. She was sickened by the fact that Fancy Pants found his demise so seductive.

“Does the condemned have any last words?” Trixie asked.

“You give cunts a bad name!” Fancy Pants shouted, in an boisterous tone, “Your notions of morality have no right to rule! Libertine philosophy is the future! Your loins go unused, like rotten fruit on the vine. We embrace the pleasures of the flesh and our fleeting lives are richer for it! We are the pinnacle of existence! We are perfection!”

Trixie responded to Fancy Pants’ impassioned outbursts with a stern demeanor.

“Perfection is the enemy of good,” Trixie said, as she took a sinister step towards Fancy Pants, “One who cannot control themselves has no right to rule another.”

The groundskeeper had been watching the proceedings with increasing unease. When she sensed that things were about to turn violent, she closed her eyes and hid her face behind her large mane. She had never met Fancy Pants, but she reasoned that if he was friends with Prince Blueblood, then she would be better off not knowing him.

Trixie stepped back and allowed one of her lieutenants to approach Fancy Pants. The lanky unicorn used his magic to levitate a sledgehammer and brought it down forcefully on Fancy Pants’ horn. It shattered; causing horn slivers to rain down in front of him. A glowing bluish-green liquid dribbled out of the horn hole and down Fancy Pants’ face.

Fleur gasped as she watched her lover’s horn snap into pieces. Fancy Pants screamed in pain as the guillotine blade was released by the stout lieutenant. With a sickening squelching sound, the sharp edge sliced through Fancy Pants’ neck like an overripe tangerine. His decapitated head landed with a thunk into a basket that had been placed in front of the guillotine. His gold-rimmed monocle bounced off the lip of the basket and rolled toward Trixie’s hooves. She stomped on it; shattering the glass.

In his body’s last primal act of self-preservation, Fancy Pants’ erect penis ejaculated his seed onto the ground. Without a head, his body went limp. He would’ve also sprayed the stage with feces, but his bowels had recently been voided.

During the previous night, Fancy Pants and Fleur had given each other champagne enemas. They both reveled in drinking liquidy shit from each other’s assholes. It was nearly dawn before they finished. Fancy Pants and Fleur had just managed to clean themselves off when the rebels burst into their bedroom and captured them.

Fleur shed a tear as she fondly reminisced on their last night together.

The crowd cheered as the bloodied blade was raised high. The groundskeeper’s face went pale as Fancy Pants’ headless corpse was cast aside to make room for the next victim.

“And so passes Fancy Pants,” Blueblood muttered to himself, “He brought a measure of class to the libertine lifestyle which I could never hope to achieve.”

Blueblood stared at Fleur as she was slowly led to the chopping block by Trixie’s lanky lieutenant. Fleur tried to keep her composure in spite of having just witnessed her lover’s execution.

“Such a colossal waste,” Blueblood muttered to himself, “To strike down a mare as skilled at fornication as Fleur is inexcusable. And they have the gall to call us monsters.”

As Fleur was marched to her doom, she saw Fancy Pants’ semen staining the stage. Pausing for a moment, she knelt down and began zealously lapping up her lover’s last dick discharge.

“Mustn’t waste a drop,” Fleur said, as she sobbed between licks, “Fancy Pants always did need me to clean up after him.”

“Quit stalling, you shameless whore,” Trixie said with disgust.

By the time the lanky lieutenant forced Fleur’s neck onto the chopping block, she had already filled her mouth with Fancy Pants’ semen. Tears were streaming down her jizz-filled cheeks.

In a similar fashion, a sledgehammer was used to break off her horn, but unlike Fancy Pants, Fleur didn’t shout in pain at her disfigurement. She was used to masochism, so this pain was merely a new experiment in exquisite agony.

“Mmm!” She moaned as a silvery liquid oozed from her horn hole and dripped down the bridge of her snout. Her mouth remained closed; still filled with Fancy Pants’ salty semen.

The blade was released; severing Fleur’s neck as she inhaled through her nose. Her head landed in the basket on top of Fancy Pants’ face. Their eyes were glassy and their mouths hung slightly open. Celestia and Luna watched as the cum in Fleur’s mouth oozed past her lips into Fancy Pants’ open mouth.

“Now there’s something you don’t see everyday,” Celestia said, impressed, “Decapitated post-mortem snowballing.”

“Fleur was always so sophisticated and refined at our private orgies,” Luna said, as she shook her head sadly, “Her contributions will be sorely missed.”

Blueblood had nothing to add. He stared at the guillotine, which was now slick from the blood of his friends. He wondered who would be next to die. Trixie approached Blueblood; blocking his view of the blade.

“While your conspirators met their fate with madam guillotine, this form of execution is too kind for the likes of you.” Trixie said, “The atrocities of your fellow libertines pale in comparison to the corrupt cruelty you and your aunts have unleashed.”

“Spare me your theatrics you conniving cunt,” Blueblood said quietly, with a sneer, “You may have the common plebeians fooled, but I know your heart. We’re more alike than you’d care to admit. I sense within your heart a desire for power and the will to seize it.”

Trixie’s eye twitched, which made Blueblood’s mouth curl into a sly smile.

“Silence!” Trixie said as she stepped defiantly towards Blueblood, “Your words are as poisonous as your soul. The libertine reign of terror ends here.”

“It is the destiny of the weak to be devoured by the strong,” Blueblood said, “Your fight to remain in ignorance has gained you a fleeting victory, but it will not last.”

“You prey upon gentleness, meekness and kindness,” Trixie said, while gesturing to the groundskeeper, “You detect these positive traits in others and assume that they are weakness, but you’re wrong. You think that if somepony is softer than silk, you can dominate them for your own pleasure!”

The groundskeeper’s heart was beating fast. She felt empowered by Trixie’s charismatic words.

“You have no power and no courage,” Trixie said to Blueblood, “The ponies you view as weak possess a strength you’ll never know. Silk is soft, but it can be deadly when wrapped tight around your neck.”

Trixie then pulled a silken cloth from beneath her traveler’s cloak. At first Blueblood thought she meant to strangle him. Blueblood had heard about erotic asphyxiation, and was intrigued to see how a good strangulation could enhance his orgasm. Trixie had other plans, however.

“As punishment for their numerous crimes against ponykind, death is too good for them,” Trixie said, “These libertines sold their souls to prolong their lives. It would be a shame to deprive them of what they value above all else.”

“What are you going to do to us?” Celestia said, with a measure of unease.

“There are punishments far worse than death,” Trixie said, “Your bodies shall be turned as cold and hard as your hearts. You shall live for all eternity encased in stone. Your bodies shall remain forever immobilized as your empire is reformed. You shall be conscious of the world around you, but unable to experience it.”

For the first time ever, Blueblood, Celestia and Luna were filled with genuine terror. A death sentence would’ve been a bitter pill to swallow, but the thought of an eternity trapped in a stony prison was unbearable.

Trixie set the cloth flat on the stage. Using her special brand of conjuring magic, Trixie caused a small birdcage to materialize beneath the silk cloth.

“Eons of your debaucherous rule has slowly corrupted our world,” Trixie said, “It’s time we redeemed it.”

Trixie removed the silken cloth, revealing a young cockatrice in the birdcage. The chicken and snake hybrid opened its eyes and stared at the libertines. Trixie and her lieutenants used their magic to keep Blueblood and his aunts facing forward.

Those in the audience had been watching the proceedings with rapt attention. When the cockatrice was revealed, however, all who were present averted their eyes. Or, in the case of the groundskeeper, held her eyes shut tight.

The libertines’ heads were immobilized and their eyes were forced open. They had no chance of escaping the stony stare of the cockatrice. In that moment, they felt a small measure of the fear they had inflicted upon their victims.

“Stop it!” Blueblood shouted, “Stop it, please! I beg you!”

“Kill us all!” Luna screamed, as she struggled futilely against Trixie’s powerful magical hold, “Death would be preferred instead of a hellish life encased in stone!”

“What’s all this talk of death?” Trixie said, “Surely devout libertines such as yourselves would much prefer to live?”

There was a small measure of vindictive pleasure in Trixie’s remarks which gave her a moment of pause. She took a deep breath and put her emotions in check before continuing. She promised herself that she would not stoop to the libertines’ level by taking pleasure from the misery of another.

“It’s not fair!” Celestia yelled, “It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”

“This is for your own good,” Trixie said, “You’ll have to live with your guilt for a while. A thousand years, at least.”

The ground beneath the libertines’ hooves began to rumble as their hind legs turned to stone. They struggled to move, but their entire bodies were rapidly becoming stiff.

The groundskeeper breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the libertines transform into living statues. Blueblood and the royal sisters could never harm her or anypony else ever again. She had survived.

As his torso became encased in a layer of rock, Blueblood realized he was almost out of time. He used his last moments to say farewell to his wife.

“Wait for me, my virgin bride,” Blueblood said, as he did what he could to delay the effects of the cockatrice’s stare, “We’ll have our honeymoon once I escape this stony prison.”

Trixie’s brow furrowed suspiciously as she looked at Blueblood’s wife. The groundskeepers eyes went wide with fear as she felt all eyes on her. The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. Blueblood smiled devilishly. Even in his final moments, his powers of manipulation were unparalleled. Celestia and Luna quickly caught on and added their own commentary.

“Did you honestly think she was an innocent?” Luna said to the crowd as the stony shell crept up her neck. The groundskeeper hid her face behind her mane and tried to run, but her path was blocked from every direction.

“She’s not their victim?” Trixie thought, “Has Trixie been deceived?”

“It was her overzealousness that crushed those two mares in the wine vat,” Celestia said with a mirthless laugh, “Our nephew trained his bride to be as cruel as he ever was.” The groundskeeper shook her head as she tried to deny the libertines’ accusations.

“Keep my dream alive, darling!” Blueblood said. A smug smile graced his lips as his head became encased in stone. The cockatrice had done its job. Blueblood and his two aunts stood frozen solid and thoroughly immobile.

After draping the silk cloth over the birdcage, Trixie caused the cockatrice to dissipate. Blueblood was still sporting his erection; only now he had no way to alleviate his condition. He would remained trapped with the worst case of blueballs on record.

In spite of overthrowing the royal family, there were no cheers from the crowd. Instead, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air as all eyes were on the bride of Prince Blueblood.

The groundskeeper’s eyes darted around nervously as her breath came out in short pants. After a minute, the awkward silence was broken.

“Murderer!” a mare in the crowd cried, “Death to the bride of Blueblood!”

The groundskeeper shook her head and cried, which caused her bell to jingle spastically. She tried to convey that Blueblood and his aunts were lying, but the crowd had already turned against her.

Blueblood’s bride tried to run, but the stallions on either side of her pushed her onto the stage. Her knees were shaking as she shook her head and cried. She wasn’t a libertine, but she had no means of convincing the angry mob of her innocence.

Trixie reflected on the words of Prince Blueblood. She looked at the silver bell which pierced the groundskeeper’s tongue. Trixie then noticed the melted wax and genital piercing before shaking her head with disapproval. With a bitter sigh, Trixie reflected on the extreme lengths which libertines were willing to disfigure their bodies for the sake of titillation.

Trixie used her aura to pull a miniature crossbow from under her cloak. The bride of Blueblood was sobbing, with tears running down her cheeks. She kept thinking in her head that she was innocent. She wished more than anything to be able to say something in her defense, but she couldn’t form the words.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Trixie fired an arrow into the groundskeeper’s head. The pointed tip of the shaft penetrated her skull and lodged in her brain. The bell of paradise jingled as her lifeless body slumped on the stage.

Trixie looked pitiably at the groundskeeper’s corpse. Blood was trickling from the wound in her forehead as her vacant eyes became cold and glassy. Trixie turned to face the crowd as she stood triumphantly over the body.

“The bride of Blueblood sealed her fate when she lusted after the perverted prince,” Trixie said, “Anypony who sympathizes with the libertine scourge shall be put to death!”

Blueblood’s assassin Night Shade pulled the hood of his cloak further down over his face, before disappearing into the crowd. Trixie stepped over the body of the groundskeeper as she approached the crowd.

“The rule of the royal sisters is at an end,” Trixie said, triumphantly, “A new day has dawned for Equestria. Join Trixie in welcoming a time of peace and prosperity!”

“Hear hear!” the crowd cheered.

The End