I disrobe outside my playroom and fold my clothes nicely, hiding them under a box just beside me. I open the door and step inside quickly, closing it behind. The strained whimpering of the mare barely escapes as I reenchant the spells around the room and apply new gems I’d acquired to enhance the duration of the spells I’ve already placed.

The scent and location of urine and feces is made clear as the lights brighten. I walk to the strapped mare and take in her expression.

Tears have stained her face from her eyes to the back of her head, like she was wearing glasses. Her body had relieved itself and her tail is saturated with her mess, as well as most of her back and hind legs. Her eyes flutter open and she winces when she sees me, then she looks at me again and trembles, sniffing the air. “Water, please,” she asks me hoarsely.

I look her over and roll my eyes. “You made quite the mess of my table, and it’s my favorite table. So, I’ll offer you fruit instead. Can you smell it, the fruit?”

“Y-yes. It’s been torturing me for a long time,” she gulps dryly, “what time is it, how long have I been here?”

I call over the bowl of fruit and angle it to her so she can see. Her eyes widen as she looks at it and I take a piece from the bowl. A small square piece of cantaloupe dangles above her muzzle and she opens her mouth expectantly. “Not quite…” I tell her removing the fruit from her view. I swipe it through the mixed mess she’s chosen to make on my table and return it to above her muzzle.

A sniff and a wince, then she looks at me, lips held tight. “You’re hungry, right? This is certainly food, so open up.” she shakes her head as little as she can, humming declination. “Well, I’ll just leave these under the table for when you’re ready,” I tell her as I dump the bowl onto the floor. It squishes on impact, and runs with her excretions.

She whimpers as I rest the one piece of fruit on her forehead and leave her sight. “So, my playmate, what should we… oh, you got them off,” I comment, noticing her labia and breasts were free of the traps, “care to tell me how?” I ask, looking at the clotted blood from where her nipple once was and the bruised swelling of her nether regions.

“It took a long time, but... I won’t let you. I’ll get out of here and tell everypony what you’ve done.” I turn from her and back to my toys. I take a scalpel and turn to her. “When they find out what you’re doing to ponies and-” she yelps as I take a the knife to her upper foreleg and press, “-and they’ll lock you away until you die of old age, if you’re lucky!” she coughs roughly, loudly.

I drag the blade lightly and watch blood seep from the wound. She snorts indignantly. “You feel better now? Cutting me like that?”

“That, my toy, is merely a papercut, but yes, I do derive a bit of pleasure from this. Can you sing for me again?”

“Sing? I haven’t sung a note since I got here. I fact, over the past year I’ve barely sung at all, for your information. If you think I’ll even hum for you, you’re more delusional than I imagined.”

I use my magic to open her small wound slightly and take measure. “It’s about an inch long, I think… Ah, that’s a nice idea,” I say taking her feathers from before and arranging them into a bouquet. I place them, quill first, into the oozing wound and press very hard, allowing them to spin a bit in her flesh before letting them rest.

Not a scream… but growling is something, I guess.

“You disgusting… freak. You -mphf!” I hold her muzzle closed around the fruit I’ve given her.

“You must eat something, or else you’ll die of thirst before we’re done. Also, one shouldn't sing with a dry mouth, right?”

She struggles but instinct wins as she swallows the bit with a restrained gulp. “Eugh!” She shuts her eyes and exhales. “...more, please.”

“More? Certainly. I’m not a monster after all, right?” I take several pieces from the floor and hold them above her muzzle. Reluctantly she opens her mouth, letting the drops of wetness enter. I let one fall into her mouth. She doesn’t chew, just swallows. Same for the next, and next. “You really should chew, it’s better for the digestion, after all.”

“But,” she gulps, “it’ll take longer to digest this way and maybe I won’t starve before you let me go, or I escape.”

“Again with this?” I say with exasperation. Oh, the things we’re going to do.

“I’ll never give up. I’m not the meek mare I pretend to be; most ponies are even stronger than me. I grew up fighting for everything I got, and that includes working for Grey Withers. I was the best, strongest, smartest mare I had to be and I acted my part to get to the top. I’ll be cursed before I let you make it all worthless.”

I take the bouquet of feathers and press them deeper into her leg, albeit not much as they were already pretty far and bone isn’t giving. I trot around her and open a new wound, same as the other, and plant another bouquet in her. I take note that both bouquets are waving slightly, moving in line with her muscle tensing.

“Do be a dear and sing for me.”

“No! I won’t whistle, sing, hum, anything for you.” I note her voice reverberating through the room.

I sigh as I raise the blade and press it to another part of her flesh. I drag the blade lengthwise, at an angle, from postern to the top of her coffin just deep enough to break the skin and draw blood in the center of the cut. She isn’t singing for me yet, though. I take more feathers and place them in the opening, gently.

Having a spot of fun at the moment, I repeat the process until her legs are lovely in their own right. She’s snarling, holding back noise and tears quite well. “Oh, you don’t know what I’ve done, do you? I’ve placed the feathers I’ve plucked from you into cuts on your legs. You’re quite the bouquet. In fact, I think I should bring a mirror to show you what I’ve done. Should I get one now?”

“I don’t care, you’re going to do, what you want, right?”

“I suppose I do and shall, I’ll be back tomorrow, maybe.”

I cast the spell around her and move to the door, then wait as the spell elapses. She weeps for a moment while testing her restraints. Grunting and fighting with all her might, she yells, screams, calls for help… even whispers a quiet prayer to gods that don’t exist, hopefully. She cries this time, openly and fully, begging for her freedom to what she believes to be an empty room. I cast a silence spell below me then lay on my belly, ignoring the cold cement to watch the mare on the table. To listen as she cries and fights to no avail, and I know I have complete control of her life now.

After nearly an hour at the sound of her whimpering and futile struggling I hear a spilling sound and take that as the insult it is. I stand and move closer. “So,” she inhales sharply and her eyes snap to me, “this is what happens when I leave? You flush filth all over my table and floor?” She blushes. “And after I told you how much I care for this table.”

She blinks and her blush deepens before she yells. “You’re sick! Disgusting and crazy, the spawn of evil itself, aren’t you?”

I groan as she berates me. “Very well, I’ll leave you be and when I return I certainly hope you’ll be in better spirits. Oh, and since you seem to be quite vocal, I have a gift for you. Something I’ve been saving for a while,” I float a box from my coat and hold it above her, then open it. She gasps quietly. “Yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it? It’s an enchanted blue diamond. The enchantment, before you ask, is silence.

“A gift for every stallion upon their marriage to a mare. A comical gift, once I heard of the tradition, but playing with you it makes sense. The old saying that if one cannot say anything nice, it is best to say nothing at all is what the tradition is from, and oftentimes silence must be enforced. Every married couple has one of these… well, every married couple that has a stallion involved, that is.

“Simply place the gem on the body and they won’t be able to make a sound, but can listen to everything happening around them. The point of this blue gem is to help a couple take turns talking the problem through resolution. Now, I’ll just place this right… hrm, one moment,” I move to her other side and pull open the cut above her hoof and force the gem inside her body with the feathers.

A warm breeze blows over me as a bird chirps while it lands on me. It’s talons lightly dig into my skin, but it sings a lovely song for the seconds it’s there before the basement returns in force. I look at the mare and her face is twisted in pain, her mouth open, silently. I urgently grip the gem with my magic and yank it from her body, blood splatters upon my face but I don’t care as the meadow returns.

A warm feeling fills my heart while I’m here that I’m not used to. It’s wholesome, fulfilling in a way I’ve never been able to experience outside of dreams or fantasies, or recently with Fleur, but this is so much more real. It’s like the warmth of my very existence is welling up from within me and spreading to the real world. Is this what Princess Celestia feels when she raises the sun?

The scene fades and I return to my senses and the mare lying beneath me. I return the gem to her body and feel an emptiness as the room falls deathly silent. “That, was a beautiful song. Please, sing for me again when I return. Perhaps you can survive longer that way, perhaps not. Please do think about it.”

I watch as she struggles against her bonds in silence as I leave. As an added torture, I dispel the lights and seal the exit.

I ascend the stairs into the kitchen and stop to grab a peach and some grapes to snack on while I read in my study. I don’t notice the gasps the ponies make as I pass them, naked and with droplets of red across my chest. With little much ado, I grumble in broken sentences while I walk just loudly enough to be heard while acting as though I'm keeping silent, "Red paint... can't even color in peace... rodents."

Without a doubt, everypony will think my secret hobby of the years has been me painting; which isn't truly wrong, to be honest. Only now I have a new source of red, and it's not a common housepet.

I return to the room hours after sunset to a genuine surprise. It is clean, nearly spotless from all the mess the mare had made and her body seems to have been cleaned, too.

I move to her, the light scent of mint tickles my nose, and look at her. She's asleep. I take my scalpel and cut into her scabbing wounds, waking her with quite a shock, I'm certain.

I remove the gem like one would open a peanut and place it beside her on the table and the sound returns to her.

She comes to her senses after a few seconds and her voice hitches. “I can speak again? Well good, now I'll give you one last chance for you to let me go. I don't know how you convinced Grey Withers to join you, but at least he's kind.

“He cleaned me, fed me, made me feel like a pony. The diseased freak in the room with me now didn't do any of that. You-”

While she's rambling I take some string and wrap it around her left wing arm several times, then she stops speaking for a second as I yank it as tight as I can without breaking the string. I measure and make sure it’s near the base, then I take a small saw and hold it an inch from the tip of the wing.

“-gonna do? Pluck me again? I won't humor you with a scream or feigned pleasure. You won't-”

Her words stop as the blade moves quick and hard, taking the end of her wing and the primary feathers with it. “You were saying?” Her teeth grind as a tear leaves her eye. “Oh, now you’re going to be quiet? Please, let me see how well you play at being silent.” I bring the saw back to her wing, at the elbow joint, but two inches past.

The teeth of the saw move through flesh like it wasn’t there and begins to grate lightly against the bone. Her eyes twitch and she screams into her closed mouth, she convulses as she fights her binds. “The pain must be unbearable, you certainly have a strong will… I wonder,” I stop sawing about one-third of the way through, “how long it will take to break your silence?”

I take her wing and bend it sharply. The snap sends tingles to my stallionhood, but hearing her singing, feeling it take me to that meadow of imagination. It feels so real here. Certainly it must exist in my mind, only. But to come here I need this song to be sung for me, a song of pain, agony, and fear. Is this is the only way to get here? Then I will make the most of it while I am here.

I feel her wing, still in my grasp, and tug the wing apart against its design. My heart flutters as her song caresses me in melliferous melody. I’m fully aroused now, yet all I can do it sway to the harmony I hear. I see a pair of dogs mating under the one tree and it makes me ache to release as I watch them. I look down and this time I see an outline of the mare, her body tensing and pulling. Her wings twitching in their barred binds and the one in my grip, oozing blood slowly thanks to the tourniquet.

I lean over and bite the dangling part in my teeth and slowly pull back. I shudder as I feel the flesh tearing and I see a tendon holding firm to its root in her back, exposing itself more and more as I pull the wing from her body.

I stumble away when it’s torn free, raising my muzzle to the imaginary sky as erotic bliss takes me in its embrace.

I’ve never felt so aroused, especially by a song. And this sugarcane is so nice, too. It’s crunchy, warm, sweet, yet with a unique flavor I can’t describe.

I look to the fuzzy image of the mare as she fades into view more clearly, only this time the meadow remains. She has joined me? Now she can share in the beauty I see!

I look at her crying face and roll my eyes. “Darling, can’t you see what you’ve created? It’s lovely, so beautiful and warm.

“Even the sugarcane is amazing. Here, try some! I’ve eaten most of it, but there’s still some flavor left if you suck and chew it hard enough.” I kiss the sugarcane from my mouth into hers and she spits it out. “What?! Why you-” I growl, “-you will eat what I share with you!” I shove the sugarcane into her mouth and close her muzzle around it. “You lower class ponies are all the same. You look at us nobles like we’re everything, but when we share with your kind you spit in our faces. You are the disgusting ones, not I.”

The meadow fades in the silence, but she looks at me with pleading eyes, her face pales. She coughs twice in a restrained manner before a stream of vomit shoots from her nostrils, arcing slightly before raining down upon her as I cast a rain shield upon myself. I keep her muzzle closed while she spews foul smelling fruit chunks from her nose and around us, splattering across her upper body and head. She tries to scream between spouts but it’s drowned out quickly.

I notice even her eyes seem to be seeping some vomit for some reason I’ll have to research later.

She begins to convulse, this time I take it seriously and I take her head harness off and turn her away from me before I release her muzzle and let her breathe. She coughs, hacks, dry heaves, vomits, spits, and cries for a couple minutes before she calms enough to be restrained again. I restrap her head a little tighter than I had last time and I see the flesh pulling tautly around her eyes, limiting her ability to blink.

“Feel better?” She makes an odd noise as I trot around the table and smile into her bleary, vomit covered face. “What did you think about that sugarcane? I think it’s delightful, personally. Shall I carve you some more?”

She tries to pull her head away and shuts her muzzle, shaking her declination. “No, I,” she starts with a raspy voice and a cough, “I’m sorry for what I called you before. I had no right to say anything to you and,” she clears her throat with a wet sound then winces as she gulps, “I apologize.”

“My, how polite of you. You’re not even close to earning my forgiveness for calling me ‘dude’, but you’re certainly right. You do deserve to cleanse your body of such filth, just not yet.”

“Can I have something to drink, Master?” She blinks and gulps, looking down a little to see me.

I smile at her and nod, moving from her sight. I trot around the table and take the head straps in my magic. “Am I going to be freed, Master?”

“I will free you, eventually. As of now, I have to finish what I’ve started as best as I’m able. You see, if I leave your wing as it is, there’s a good chance you’ll suffer distracting pain for the rest of our play date, and we can’t have you distracted, can we?”

“Please, don’t do this anymore,” she weeps and blubbers, “I’m sorry for every word I said and will do anything for you… just please, no more. Find it in your heart to not-” she screams, but it doesn’t echo through the meadow I’m back in, still holding her head between my hooves, as I saw at a nice pace through her wing, four inches from the tourniquet, until it falls free.

I pull the flesh back over the cut end that’s now blunted and bleeding at a slightly too fast pace and return the saw to the exposed bone, trimming it down by two inches. I return the flesh and hold it closed while release the string from her wing sending a squirt of blood to the table before I wrap and tie several times the end closed.

“There, a very nice amputation, if I must say so. When you calm, you’ll be able to tell me about your experience. Now, I shan’t waste another moment and do the same to the other.”

“NO! Celestia, no! Please, Master Fancy Pants, don’t take my other wing! I beg of you -- I vow to be quiet forever about all of this, if you’ll just not take my wings! I’ll do anything, anything! Nooo-” she screams and pleads as I finish tying the knots and begin to saw near the base of her right wing, cutting it off and then repeating the trimming and wrapping of her amputated limb.

She stopped screaming just as I finished sawing through her wing, now only a steady stream of tears running down the sides of her head and short gasps are the only sound she makes. How poetic! I simply must write something, albeit less macabre, for Fleur.

“There we are, now! And, as you requested I’ll keep your wings here.” I wink. She’s staring intently at the sky above us and I truly hope she sees the meadow as I do, for the playroom ceiling would be most depressing to have to stare at.

“Well, I suppose it’s time to have a little more fun? Are you feeling up to it?” She doesn’t answer, shock having taken effect. “Well, I believe this will excite you as it does me.”

I take her wings and hold them together and begin to flap them around, mimicking them flying through the air above her. “Caw, caw,” I chuckle, “I’m a bird, caw!”

She slowly blinks her agreement at the humor of the moment and I notice tears streaming across her head more than before. She must be so thirsty by now, I muse to myself. You have two more days without water before you die, and I won't let that happen. You'll die by my hoof and magic before dehydration takes you.

“Oh, do you want these back?" I ask mockingly. "I have a proposal for you that I think you’ll like very much. You agree to be my slave and serve me forever, and I’ll return your wings. If you agree, nod once.” She’s tied too tight to move so I shrug at her lack of agreement. “Very well, I’ll just set these aside and we’ll come back to that.

“This is a new thing I’ve always wanted to try, a game I call ‘who’s got my hoof?’”

I take a hammer, the saw, several knives, and twine this time to her left rear leg and go to work. She’s silent at first but as I begin my first cut around her hoof she starts to twitch and moan. I finish my roundabout with the blade and take a smaller scalpel to separate flesh from muscle and that’s when she screams.

I tune her out and focus on the birds and the wind in the trees, letting the combined sounds focus me as I cut to her muscle and begin to sever those loose.

Her hoof is moving still; I must cut the nerve or the right muscle group.

I bite my tongue in concentration and find a healthy ligament and slice through it in several broad cuts, then I find a tendon! It’s moving in tandem with the movements of the hoof, up and down at the same time. I take my larger sharp bladed cooks knife and bring it from tip to tang in a smooth motion and the corners of my mouth jerk up with the audible snap it makes when it’s separated.

I move the blade to the back side of her leg and cut deeply several times until I feel something akin to a rubber band snapping. It fills me with glee, true elation makes me titter like a school filly.

The hoof is now limp, but I need to finish this in order to start the game. I take a screwdriver and push it into her exposed joint, where the tendon lies motionless and blood seeps slowly at her hoof, and I strike the other end with the hammer. I harumph at the lack of effect and repeat the action, harder. This time the hoof jerks, but doesn’t do anything else.

Her noises are beginning to distract me, but the birds and breeze in the sky, ruffling the leaves in the tree are fighting her, making a cacophony of noise that I have to silence. I roar into the afternoon sky as loud as I can for two lungs worth of air and when I stop there’s silence, save for her cowardly whimpering, sobbing, and pathetic pleading.

Returning to the task, I tap a hoof on my chin in thought. An idea strikes and I begin to turn the screwdriver against the bones, offering a solid whack with the hammer when I feel like it to try to wedge them apart. Then, when the silly tool slips deeper into the hoof and breaks through the wall, I laugh as I see the flat side of the screwdriver poking out of her hoof and I look over to see a group of cats laughing even more than I am.

I pull the screwdriver backward and out of the limp, bleeding hoof and let my humorous side take over for a few seconds as I use my screwdriver and hammer to take her shoe off and I let the shoe itself rest on her exposed flesh. “I’ll forget this if I don’t put it here -- it’s my lucky horseshoe!” I laugh to the growing crowd of cats.

Nearly every cat I’ve played with is gathering in attendance, it seems.

I roll my eyes across her bleeding, exposed bone and decide to try something else. I take the saw in my magic and I begin trying to saw through her cannon bones, but they’re too strong for the smaller teeth of the saw, so I resort to more brutal methods and spend nearly two minutes hammering at her bones, cutting all around the hoof and exposed flesh and sinew until I’m peeling bone from bone, layer by layer, and twisting the hoof until it’s almost free, but it’s still attached to something!

I grunt and take my saw to the best opening I can and saw like a mad pony until the hoof falls, with a clatter, to the table and I squeal with foalish glee, clapping my hooves together and grinning like I got my dream gift on Hearths Warming.

“I did it! Finally, it was way harder than any paw I’ve ever had to work with… but I did it! Look,” I pick it up in my magic and spin it around slowly to look it over, no blood remains on it when I’m done examining it. My heart pounds with excitement at my successful extremity removal, but she doesn’t share my excitement.

“Wake up! You’re missing the moment, scum!” I shout and grip her stump with my magic and pull the flesh up, exposing more nerves to cold unfiltered air. She grimaces and whimpers, but doesn’t open her eyes. “You little feather humper, I’ll help you wake up!”

I take the first bladed knife I see and go to her eyes and lift her lids enough so I won’t cut into her eyeplates. I cut a circle from them, one each, large enough to let her see the world through closed eyes.

Now she can’t hide from what I’m doing! Now she’s going to look and watch as I turn her into a work of art.

She moves her eyes with her lids still closed, blood pooling against her pupils as I watch her trembling eyes shifting directions. Her lips tremble and before she speaks, she sings her song to me. Her eyelids open and nearly clean the blood from her eyes, but no matter how many times she blinks her eyes, the blood won’t clear enough for her to see.

I didn’t think this one through… I frown at myself in retrospect. Another idea comes to mind, something mother used to do when I’d once fallen and scraped my leg quite badly.

I move to the stream that flows through the meadow, collect water in a mug that was set on a tree stump, then return to her and dump it across her eyes. I return to the stream and get another mug to repeat the task.

Three more times and I can see her eyes without blood on them, the flow stopped enough while she was thrashing and it had apparently just pooled wet blood, with nowhere to move it away it just smeared across her lenses. Now, with much more clear eyes, and an inability to hide away, I showed her the fruits of my labor.

After the third splash of water she’d shut her muzzle and just stared at the ceiling, or sky, whatever.

She’s trembling a lot, too. But that’s all she’s done since her eyes were cleared. “Darling, aren’t you proud of me? I’ve actually removed a pony hoof! This’ the most excited I’ve been playing in ages, forget the damned game. I say,” I grin down into her eyes and see my visage, near pristine white with only a couple drops of blood on me, “we simply must do this with the other leg! What say you?”

She trembles in silent agreement.

I take two total minutes this time to pry her right rear hoof free and only a little wasted effort and blood for my troubles. Simply astounding at how quickly I have adapted to this.

“Darling, I believe you deserve a prize for staying with me through this last one.” I place both removed hooves beside her on the table and unstrap her hind legs, and they instantly curl to her body… then she whimpers, sobs, and bawls. “You really should be proud of yourself, my dear. There’s not a single pegasus in Canterlot with missing wings and hooves; you’re truly one of a kind now.”

She screams in what I can only presume to be desperation and I sigh wistfully at the melody she makes.

Truly, she’s going mad right now and I’m honored with watching her slip away. I believe I have a long playdate with this mare, longer than the projected weekend. I dare say, she’s growing on me in an odd way.

I feel warm blood splash against my body as she thrashes wildly, bucking and twisting in her binds and I revel in the scent and flavor. At the same time, I feel an admiration for her, as though I were watching a foal taking its first steps.

Truly, a splendid sight to see. It is as though she’s being born again into a new life.

I lean close to her ear. “This is only the beginning of our time together,” I say flatly as she lashes out with unintelligible words. I stand back, heart pounding in my chest, as I watch her mind, spirit, will, and hope breaking, dissolving before me... and I smile at what’s to come.

Author's Note

Hope this was good for you.
Comment and let me know, plz.