The Consensual Kink Collection

Chapters

We're Sorting What? (Prologue)
Turkey Stuffing 101 (Predator/Prey Play, Food Play, Bondage, Turkies)
Moonlight Initiation by Seraphem (Bondage, gangbang)
The Beauty in the Lie by Pretty Penne (A very beautiful poem)
Dinner at the Lunar Belle, by Brony-Wan-Kenobi (Food Play, Bondage)
The CTS Anniversary Radio Broadcast, by Shutter Speed (Youtube Audio)
The Merits of Journalistic Curiosity - A First-Hoof Account of Changeling Fertility Rituals, by Alias (Changeling-on-Pony Breeding, Bondage, Oviposition)
A Glass of Aftercare, by Axolu/Sepia (Aftercare)
The Joining, by Brasta Septim (Ritualistic Orgies)
Racehorse, by Winter Thorn (Public Use, Really Hot Watersports)
Dual Duet Chapter 1 by Troublesome Beast (BDSM, Anthro)
Dual Duet Chapter 2 by Troublesome Beast (BDSM, Anthro)
Return to the Tower, by Wintergleam (SFW Art)
Greener on the Other Side by Script Write (Adult Foals, Diapers, Watersports, Hypnosis)
A Day At RootCon by Moonsaber (BDSM, Tentacles, Public Sex)
Clocktower Training Manual - Torture Play, by Viken666
Writing with Scarlet, by Axolu (Masturbation, Bondage)
Yaks are Yak by Lord Nobady (Bondage, Temperature Play)
The Perfect Tour-ture by Silent Whisper (A Guided Tour of Clocktower Society)
Everypony Wants to be a Pet, by Troposphere (A Really Fun Song)

We're Sorting What? (Prologue)

“Buck bucking buckity bucker mcbuckface!”

The string of curses echoed around the little pink unicorn mare sprawled on the marble floor before dying away among the high shelves lining the vaulted walls of the hall. The floor around her hooves was littered with metallic discs. A few were still spinning or rolling where they fell from the trays she had been carrying on her saddle.

The young mare gasped, throwing her hooves up to her muzzle. Her otherwise adorably innocent face looked up at the apprentice who had run into her with pouty indignation. With a look of watery-eyed resignation, the mare reached for the ballgag hanging around her own neck. She slowly spread her cute little lips around it, moaning just a little as she tightened the strap.

The ballgag very helpfully read: ‘GOOD PETS DON’T SWEAR’.

The apprentice who had bowled her over watched awkwardly as the mare snapped the lock securing her gag into place. For want of something, anything, to do other than roast under her glare, the apprentice began to pick up some of the metallic discs. As the apprentice was about to place them back in the trays, the apprentice felt a tug. The apprentice looked around to find a cute, pink post-it note stuck on the unicorn mare’s horn. A message in elegantly endearing cursive read ‘Put even one of those in the wrong case and I will put the *%#@*$)@#$ on your @!)(#!$@’

It suddenly became apparent to the apprentice that the slots in the tray were labelled with titles and content warnings, with hits such as the acclaimed ‘Slave mare forced to lay changeling eggs’, the box office ‘Sex Pet and Master Take an Enthusiastic Walk’ and ‘Be Kind, Please Rewind’. The apprentice gulped. Worse still, the discs were not only unlabelled but strewn across half the room.

The apprentice wasn’t sure what a @!)(#!$@ is and where it is, but the pony certainly didn’t want the *%#@*$)@#$ anywhere near it.

“Lucky Star, what did I tell you about running through the dungeons again?” A new arrival, a chestnut mare in a charming little maid uniform, stepped up, relieving the apprentice of the pink unicorn’s glare. “I’m ever so sorry. This pet here has a rather unfortunate knack for running into ponies, walls, even thin air sometimes.” The maid’s warm smile didn’t falter under the cold siege of Lucky Star’s death glare. “Dear oh dear, Lucky Star, all the Ex-Ps you were meant to deliver for the anniversary showing are all over the place. Oh, I wonder what Master would do to you when he finds out?” The maid gave Lucky Star a playful smirk. Lucky Star’s glare melted away into the apprehensive look of a slave discovering durian on the platter on food-play night.

“Ecks-pees?” The apprentice raised an eyebrow.

“I would like to say ‘exposition’, but that would be in bad taste.” The maid giggled. “EX-Ps stands for ‘Experience Playback Spark’, discs of adamantite forged in the Fire of Devotion. You see those scorch marks on the surface? Those are memories of a fiery moment of devotion burned into their surface for all eternity...or at least until we lose their labels.”

“Scorch marks?” The apprentice peered down curiously at the adamantite discs. “These look more like cum stains.”

“Scorch. Marks,” the maid reiterated patiently, her smile unwavering. She looked between the disc and the worried-looking Lucky Star. “Hmm, I suppose the only way to sort them out is to play through each and every one to find out their contents. But how would you ever get through all of them in time for the anniversary celebrations? What would Master think if you were… gasp...late.” She gave Lucky Star a concerned look, earning her a plaintive whine from the doomed pet.

“Play through?” The apprentice blinked.

“Yes, dive into the memories burned into them, relive, experience, replay, et cetera.” The maid nodded, a little smirk playing on her lips. “And before you ask, yes, you get to touch, smell, taste, feel everything. And yes, that includes the orgasms.”

“I suppose I can help, if I must,” the apprentice said, looking very much put-upon, especially with the blush.

“Oh, how wonderful!” the maid chirped gratefully. Lucky Star rolled her eyes in absolute glee.

“So, how do you play these?” the apprentice asked, toying with one of the discs.

“Well, you simply insert them.” The maid shrugged.

“Insert them?” The apprentice balked. “Insert them where?”

“Into a slave or pet, of course. Where else? Where do you think the term ‘Slave-Insert’ came from?” The maid said, matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Though the lab rats have designed those new pod things, but being pickled in a jar can never be as fun as snuggling a player-slave through a memory.”

“There’s no time to get to the pods...right?” the apprentice asked, sheepishly.

“Oh, no, no time at all.” The maid giggled. “We will simply have to make do as the ponies of the old did, au natural.”

“Will you need some, uh, help with, um, inserting the discs?” the apprentice asked, looking as innocent as the foal wearing a cookie jar for a horseshoe.

“Oh, would we ever. After all, Lucky Star here gets ever so tight when she’s excited. Just look at how enthusiastic she is!” The maid nudged the slave mare playfully. The poor slave could only grunt in obvious excitement. “Now, once you get in, be sure to play through each memory until you beat the plot and reach the C.U.M., the Cherished Unit of Memory. Otherwise, you may end up desynchronizing and...”

“This one looks real important. It probably needs sorting the soonest!” the apprentice declared, waving a disc in the maid’s face.

“Oh, very well.” The maid giggled at the apprentice’s enthusiasm. “Let’s have Lucky Star register your name first. You are….”

“I’m…” The apprentice grinned with barely-contained excitement. “...Self Insert!”

Turkey Stuffing 101 (Predator/Prey Play, Food Play, Bondage, Turkies)

Author's Note

Written by The Villain in Glasses who shall one day go full-kink and write the kinkiest CTS smut ever. I believe in him. Show him you believe in him too and give him a follow to make sure you don't miss his CTS opus.

Featuring the Editing Talents of: Prof. Shrinky Frood, Panda-Samma, Silent Whisper (Who can no longer see thanksgiving the same way again)

Contains: Bondage, food play, predator-prey play, hunt play

Turkey Stuffing 101 (Predator/Prey Play, Food Play, Bondage, Turkies)

Gabby threw herself against the nearest tree. She brought a set of talons to her neck where a collar rested. She tugged at the scarlet, silver-studded circlet as she panted and gulped in great lungfuls of air. Her heart raced as her eyes darted about the foliage surrounding her.

Nothing moved.

She let out a slow breath of relief, finally allowing herself to relax a bit. How did she keep getting herself in these situations? Just a half hour ago she was completely safe in bed, now she was being hunted! She began tugging at the leather band around her barrel that kept her wings bound. However, just like the collar around her neck, it wouldn’t budge.

*snap*

Gabby’s head shot up from her task. Her head swiveled to take in as much of the forest as possible. Did she just imagine it? She strained her ears as far as they would go, filtering the ambient noise of the forest out of her keen hearing.

*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...

Hoofbeats! Without wasting another second Gabby dove into some nearby bushes, clamping a claw over her beak to muffle the sound of her breathing as the one hunting her approached.

*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...

Gabby was struggling to calm herself and breathe normally, her heart fluttering in her chest at the sound of her hunter’s hoofbeats slowly approaching her hiding spot. She waited in silent dread as the hoofbeats seemed to stop not three paces from where she hid.

After several long, agonizing seconds the source of the hoofbeats began to move again before fading away into the background. Gabby let out a long slow exhale to keep her noise down just in case her hunter was still nearby. She was safe, for now.

*click*

The sound echoed through the forest. Gabby’s eyes widened in horror as she stared at the band around her barrel.

And the six little electrodes branching out from it that latched onto her nipples.

Gabby quickly clamped her talons over her beak as the electrodes sent a cruel jolt of electricity through the sensitive flesh, wracking her body with a sudden wave of electric pleasure.

“Mmmpf!” She moaned into her talons, spasming until the charge wore off, panting and twitching as her body recovered from the sudden stimulus to her sensitive teats.

*clip* *clip* *clip* *clop* *clip* *clip* *clip* *clop*

She soon realized her mistake as the hoofbeats from earlier began to head back in her direction at a full gallop.

Wasting no time, Gabby scrambled to all fours to bolt off in the opposite direction, ducking and weaving through trees in a frantic attempt to escape her fate.

*thunk*

A dart with red fletching embedded itself in a tree next to her, causing her to stumble from the shock. She recovered quickly however, juking off to the opposite side and crashing through more shrubbery in a frantic attempt to lose the hunter again. More and more darts thudded into trees and bushes around her as she swerved to avoid them.

Her pursuer’s hoofbeats began to fade as the distance between them grew, her longer stride making up for her getting caught earlier. She started to sigh in relief…

...just before her front talons started to sink into the ground.

Gabby was pulled upwards with a terrified squeal as she was ensnared by the net that had erupted from right under her. The hunter hadn’t been chasing her, they’d been herding her, like nothing more than cattle.

And she had foolishly taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Gabby frantically grabbed at the thick ropes that held her captive, bringing her talons and sharp beak to bear, slowly working through the thick fibrous material.

*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...*clip*... *clop*...

Hoofsteps.

Gabby redoubled her efforts, letting out a panicked growl as she finally managed to snap one of the ropes right before a slight sting registered in her side. An icy cold feeling followed and spread through her body as her limbs went numb, the last thing she heard was a muffled chuckling before a bag was placed over her head, blacking out her vision and cutting off her hearing.

The chalk made a muted screeching sound as it was scraped against the blackboard in the Clocktower Academy classroom, writing out three words on the solid blank expanse: Staircase, Clockface, and Towertop. Gabby stepped back and set the stick of chalk back on it’s resting place before turning to face her class.“Alright, I know you were all supposed to start practical training today, but before I let you all go, I want to review the three safe words of the Society.” Gabby swept her gaze across the class, taking in the expressions of the students sitting at their desks before her. A mix of the various sentient races of Equus stared back, patiently waiting on the next part of her lecture.“As you know, the Clocktower Society is a place ponies, griffons, zebras, minotaurs, dragons, et cetera come to explore their kinks and fetishes without fear of reprisal or judgement from their peers from the outside world. This safe environment is is kept intact by one simple, unbreakable rule: Your Consent is Law.”She rapped the talons of her right claw against the blackboard, “to that end, all members whether they be dominants or submissives like us are required to know these three standard safewords behind me.” Gabby brought her tail around to show her class the bell tied to her tail. “Each safeword also has a corresponding number of bell chimes to go with them in the event that we’re unable to speak. Now, who can tell me the meaning and bell code behind each safeword?”

A lemon-yellow unicorn with a light blue mane in the front of the class tentatively raised her hoof. “Yes, Lemon Hearts?” Gabby said, gesturing for her to answer.The mare ran a hoof along her blank red academy collar, swallowing a bit before answering. “T-the first word, Staircase, is for asking the dominant to slow their pace when the play is going too fast, the bell code is three rings.” Lemon Hearts said nervously. “Clockface is for a break in play so that either the dominant or submissive can talk normally, without their roles interfering with it, bell code is five rings.” Lemon Hearts took a final, deep breath, “Towertop is for when the play begins to become too uncomfortable for either dominant or submissive. It’s coded by seven rings and is a signal for the dominant to ungag, untie, and move to aftercare.”Gabby nodded and smiled, “Good. Keep in mind that dominants can call any of these as well, but more often than not, these safewords are for the submissive’s benefit.” She walked out from behind the teacher’s podium, clearing her throat and addressing her class with a smile.“Outside the classroom are several graduated dominants who will be overseeing your practical training with the dominant’s class. As your teacher, I trust that you’ll know when to draw the line and use the safewords.”

After getting confirmation that they understood, Gabby dismissed her class. She held her cheerful smile until the last student left the room. Letting out a heavy sigh, Gabby braced herself against her podium, a dissatisfied frown on her face.

“Heya Dweeb.” Came a voice from right behind her, accompanied by a light spank to her rump. Gabby squeaked and jumped, turning to face the masked griffon hen behind her.“G-Gilda! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Gabby exclaimed, blushing hotly.

“You really didn’t make it that hard with how caught up you were. What happened to your usual energy?” Gilda asked, removing her white mask and twirling it around a single raised talon. “What are you talking about? I’m as energetic as ever!”

“Mhmm, sure.” Gilda replied, sounding entirely unconvinced.Gabby was about to try and continue the facade, but Gilda’s deadpan stare wasn’t wavering. She sighed and slumped again.

“...Is it really that obvious?” She asked sadly, giving a sidelong glance at her longtime friend.

“Yup. Besides, you and I both know nothing could sneak up on you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I’m just… augh!” Gabby buried her head in her talons, “I don’t want to say ‘bored’, I love Clocktower and it’s members. I guess I’ve just done everything there is to do here.”Gilda nodded her understanding and hugged Gabby briefly. “As it happens, I might have something that might cheer you up.”

“What is it?” Gabby asked.

Gilda grinned and reached under her wings, pulling out a slightly crumpled flyer. “Found this on the guild message boards, thought it looked interesting.” She passed it to Gabby. The flyer was plain white with a gold border, an image of a crossed fork and spoon sat square in the middle with the words “Golden Grape’s Turkey Tutorial” written above it. Directly below was a set of two meeting times and locations, one for dominants, another for submissives.

“Foodplay? I don’t know Gilda.” Gabby said, unsure, “I haven’t done much of it, that’s true. Mostly because all they do is dress you up as something edible and then ‘eat’ you. There really isn’t that much originality behind it all.” She was about to pass the flyer back to Gilda when she stopped her.

“Keep it,” Gilda said, “at least consider the option before you dismiss it. And hey, I’ll be there too, if it turns out to be disappointing, we can always have some fun afterwards.” Gilda turned and headed for the door, turning over her shoulder to give Gabby one last, long look. “I hope to see you there, Gabby.” And with that, she left the room, leaving Gabby to stare at the flyer that supposedly promised to break her boredom spell.

She sighed and shrugged, what could possibly go wrong?

Gabby groaned a bit as she began to recover her faculties, she still felt numb from whatever was in the needle. She was blindfolded and lying on a hard, metal surface with her rump raised and her talons tied behind her back.

Any attempt to move her wings and legs was met with failure as she found them to be held down with strong ropes. Her tail was similarly tied so that it was elevated, revealing her most intimate areas. More of her feeling came back as her jaw began to ache, an experimental prodding with her tongue revealed a flexible rubber ball gag in place, no doubt to accommodate for the bite strength of a griffon.

She squirmed a bit harder, attempting to break or at least slip out of her bonds. Unfortunately for her they held fast, their hold on her ironclad.

Her efforts were interrupted when her flank was smacked roughly. The bound hen gave a cute, muffled squeak.

“Looks like the main dish finally woke up.” A gravelly male voice said behind her. His tone left no illusions as to what he saw lying there, a piece of meat, nothing more.

“Hey, the class starts in five, is it prepped for the Chef?” Another voice, female this time, called out from some ways away.

“Yeah, it’s been cleaned and prepped, all ready for the demo.” The male voice replied, rubbing the place where he’d slapped her and drawing an involuntary moan from the hen.

Gabby shivered, a tiny thrill of fear traveling down her spine. Demo? What were these two talking about? What did they do to her, and what were they planning to do to her? Her heart began to hammer in her chest, but she resisted squirming. She didn’t want to get slapped on the rump again.

“You’re sure we can’t ‘tenderize’ this little morsel a bit?” The male voice said, the appendage rubbing her croup a bit more. Gabby trembled at the touch, her now restored faculties registering the hard, flat appendage as a hoof.

She silently wondered what the male voice meant by “tenderize”, she was already tied down, did that mean…? Gabby shuddered again at the thought of an unknown stallion using her to release his pent up-

“No, the Chef told us specifically to just prep the main dish. He said he’d show the proper way to tenderize it later during the demo.” The female voice replied, the tone suggesting that this wasn’t the first time she’d had to restrain her male counterpart.

“Tch, shame. He bagged quite the quality hen~”

Wait, chef!? Gabby began to panic again, were they going to eat her? Prepared like a steak at a barbecue? Squirming, she strained at the ropes binding her, trying desperately to break loose and escape. All this did was earn her another slap on her rump, drawing forth another moan as the fire in her rear burned anew.

“Well, it’s about time to cart her out to the stage.” The male voice sighed almost sadly, rubbing his hoof over her croup once again, drawing yet another shudder from the bound and helpless hen.

“Come on, you know the Chef doesn’t like being kept waiting.” The female voice chided.

*Clunk*

The metal surface Gabby was resting on suddenly shuddered, causing the hen to squeak in surprise. She would have jumped out of her feathers if she wasn’t already tied down.

The male voice chuckled again. “Oh yes, the Chef will have a fun time preparing this one.”

Gabby suppressed a whimper, instead focusing on listening to her surroundings. She was moving now, the sound of somewhat squeaky wheels confirming that fact. She felt a jolt as the cart hit a doorframe and made a sharp left turn. It was at this point that Gabby began to hear the voices.

It was a great cacophony of muffled mutterings that seemed to come from the area directly ahead of her. As she got closer, one voice in particular rang out, hushing the others.

Gabby stretched her hearing as much as she could, straining to hear the voice. She only caught the words “prepare” and “turkey” before the cart she was on crashed through another set of doors all too suddenly, causing her to yelp in shock. Her muffled cry echoed through the empty space. No sooner had it died down was it followed by a series of snickers, wolf-whistles, and lewd comments about her rump.

“Alright everypony, settle down. Yes, this is a rather fine specimen for a wild hen, but it is difficult to teach when I cannot be heard.” A new voice said, one that matched the one she had heard from the hall. A hush drowned out the other voices. Another pair of hooves reached around the sides of her face before untying the blindfold and pulling the dark cloth away.

Gabby blinked as her eyes readjusted to the sudden brightness before staring up at the stallion that towered over her. He was a well-built earth pony with a pale yellow coat and light blue mane. A bright red marquis mask obscured the upper part of his face and an apron concealed a very noticeable bulge on his lower body. The words ‘Serve The Cook’ were written in black, script-like letters across the chest of the apron.

She trembled, causing the metal serving tray she was lying on to rattle with her quivering. Was this the Chef? If so, what was he planning? She let out a soft whimper of anticipation as he lifted her chin, drawing a chuckle from the masked pony.

“Now then class, a quick review before we begin: who among you can tell me how to tell a good bird from a bad one? Yes, you in the third row.”

A female voice, filled with the kind of hunger expected from one who hadn’t eaten in a while and suddenly found a delicious meal before her responded. “The best birds have thick, meaty thighs and glutes, Chef. These are the best cuts for consumption.”

The Chef smiled and nodded. “Very good, you are correct. The thicker the bird, the more succulent your finished product will be. However, for the best results, it is reccommended that you tenderize them first.” With that, he walked out of Gabby’s limited field of vision to somewhere behind her, allowing the hen to finally see where she was without the Chef dominating her field of view.

She was on a stage of some kind, brightly illuminated by marquis lanterns and bordered by red, velvety curtains. Off to the side was a kitchen counter with a stove. A large stock pot sat covered over a low flame, wisps of steam escaping from the edges of the lid. Arranged on the counter were several implements, but because of her low angle, she couldn’t make out what they were. Beyond the stage was an audience who sat enveloped in shadows so that they only appeared as silhouettes, only their masks were visible, the various colors and decorations being the only way to tell them apart.

*snap*

She felt the rush of air long before the flogger impacted her folds, the snap of the leather causing her to shriek in pain into her gag. A hot, tingling sensation, like a thousand little flames began to bloom across her rear. She moaned and quaked at the sensation, shifting slightly in her bonds.

“Now, you don’t necessarily need to use a flogger like me, you can use a crop, vibrators, or even your own two hooves if you want to be more intimate with your meat. It’s simply a matter of personal preference.” The Chef said as he ground the butt end of the flogger’s handle into Gabby’s snatch, kneading and massaging it to draw out the burning mix of painful pleasure as long as possible.

“Now the number I recommend for a bird like this is around five to ten lashes. Of course the number varies depending on each specimen, which is why I’ll be adjusting for this hen after the initial five.” With that, the butt of the flogger left Gabby’s swollen pussy, exposing it to the cold air once more.

Gabby trembled with anticipation, panting and bracing herself for the next strike of the flogger, her lower lips quivering as the cold air of the stage bit at the sensitive flesh.

*snap*

“MMMMMPH!!!” Gabby squealed into the gag, the burning in her loins increasing again. She winked multiple times as she quivered from the pleasurable pain. The sound of her voice was like chum in the water as the masked ponies in the audience all watched, murmuring amongst themselves excitedly.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done, you’ve riled up my students with your gobbling, little turkey.” The Chef hissed in her ear, grinding the butt of the flogger into her burning folds before raising it up again for another stroke.

*snap*

The next snap of the flogger was much wetter than the last, but the effect was no less different. Gabby moaned into her gag like a wanton slut, panting as she eagerly awaited the next strike.

She was enjoying this.

Some part of her felt repulsed by it but she wanted more of the pain, the burning sensation, no… she needed it!

*snap*

Gabby’s eyes widened as one of the leather bands snapped against her clit. An electric shock lanced through her as she came hard. She groaned in pure bliss as she grinded her rump against the air in an attempt to ride out the wave of pleasure.*snap*

Gabby barely registered the stroke of the flogger as her mind glazed over in the afterglow of her climax, shuddering not with pain, but with orgasmic pleasure.

“Now, this hen was a bit on the younger side as far as turkeys go, so the number of strokes needed to properly tenderize it was simply the bare minimum.” The chef said as he trotted over to the table. He retrieved a rounded object from the countertop before walking back to his position behind Gabby.“However, this fact does change with age, so the quickest and easiest way to test if your bird is properly tenderized is to use one of these.” He held up the round egg vibrator so that the entire class could see it, driving them into a murmuring frenzy with the anticipation.“For this next part, I’m going to need absolute silence, as this cue is sound-based and takes a careful ear to listen to.”

When his class had quieted down, the Chef turned on the vibrator to it’s minimum setting before inserting it into Gabby’s abused and soaking pussy. The effect was immediate as Gabby arched her back and moaned lewdly. The hen drooled through the gag as the smooth vibrator teased her hypersensitive flesh. Every stroke of the cruel device only made her wetter and wetter.

The Chef turned the cart around so that the entire class could see her swollen, dripping sex. “Now listen carefully, once your bird is all ready, it should produce this sound when testing.” With that, he slipped the vibrator in and out of her pussy, resulting in a loud, wet *schlick* each time it slipped into her. Gabby began to huff and moan at the ministrations, grinding against the vibe each time it went in, and whining each time it left her.

The stallion chuckled and rubbed her rear, before turning back to the class. “Now that this bird is all prepped and ready, it’s time for the flavor injection.”Gabby trembled at his touch, her mind racing at what kind of salacious act he would force on her next. She didn’t have to waste long as the Chef undid his apron, letting his throbbing length out for all to see. “Now, before this next step, you’ll want to make sure that the brakes on your cart are locked in place first.” He pressed the aforementioned locks into place and turned back towards the silhouettes.

“For the flavor injection, you can use just about anything you wish, however, I will be using my own unique batter to do the deed.” The Chef said, clambering onto the cart, causing it to shudder, before placing the tip of his shaft over her entrance. The heat wafting from her folds tickling the flared head, causing his shaft to tremble.“You’ll also want to be sure, unf!” He grunted as he hilted himself into Gabby, causing the griffon hen to arch her back and mewl into her gag as she was suddenly filled. The Chef’s balls made a thick, wet *slap* as they smacked against her clit, sending another electric lance of pleasure through her already drenched pussy, drawing forth a pleasured gobble. “Make sure that you get your ‘baster’ as deep as you can, you want to make sure your bird is filled down to the deepest areas as you stuff it.”

Gabby gasped through her gag as he drew his cock back until the head was just barely scraping against the inside of her vulva, the pulsing tip of his meat driving her mad with anticipation. Just as she thought she could not bear the suspense any longer, he thrusted into her with all the warning and force of a stampeding rhino. She cried out helplessly into her gag as she was spread wide apart by his merciless spear. At no point was it a stallion making love to a hen. She was merely meat being spread and prepared for her stuffing by the chef. She could only writhe and squirm against her bonds helplessly, powerless to stop him slowly and methodically preparing his masterpiece. He pounded her, tenderized her, rough, hard and thorough, working her spasming hole through her cries and screams of passion.

“Now you’ll notice” The Chef said, not missing a beat as he continually pounded her dripping pussy, “that I have by bird set up on a tray, this is because we’ll be recycling any juices that come out.” The chef huffed, changing his angle before thrusting again, smashing his member against her G-spot.The resulting wave of pure, mind-destroying pleasure overwhelmed Gabby’s senses as her eyes shot wide open, clamping hard around the chef’s baster as she came again.The Chef quickly yanked his member out and replaced it with his hoof, mashing her inner walls and clit roughly as her juices came spilling out onto the tray. His harsh ministrations soon gave rise to another orgasm, the resulting backsplash coating part of his hoof. “Looks like this one’s a squirter!” He remarked, shaking the excess cum off his hoof and wiping it off before mounting her again and thrusting like maniac, slamming her g-spot over and over like a battering ram, not allowing his turkey go cold. Leaning over, the Chef lightly bit her neck, growling slightly as the pressure on his cock increased.

Gabby had only just begun to recover when she was spread by his glorious spear, screaming and gobbling when his teeth found her neck, sending a jolt of both fear and excitement down her spine as the feral rutting continued. With a snap of the catch, her gag fell out of her beak, allowing her screams of delight to echo unrestricted through the hall, stirring the masked ponies into another frenzy. It was too much, the savage rutting, the excitement of so many ponies watching her as she keened, moaned, and gobbled like a wanton slut in front of all of them. All of it threw her into a second climax, screaming to the heavens as she clamped down hard on his cock. It wasn’t long before he joined her as well, pulling back and thrusting as deeply as possible, slamming against her with a grunt as his balls pulsed. Gabby moaned in pure pleasure, her tongue rolling out of her beak as spurt after spurt of the Chef’s fresh, hot ‘special’ gravy bathed her insides, painting her inner walls white.

She was held there for a few moments as the Chef rode out his climax before pulling out of her and producing a wet washcloth and a silicone toy with a knot at the end. “As with all utensils you use, make sure your baster is properly cleaned and ready for it’s next use.” He wiped the excess juices off his shaft and covered it up with the apron again, inserting the toy into Gabby’s dripping snatch, “you also want to make sure you’re not wasting any of the gravy you injected your bird with.” He then picked up a remote and pressed a button, activating the bulb inside the toy, drawing a soft trill of pleasure from the exhausted hen.

“Now we just let her roast for a bit on high, we’ll turn it down low a little later.” The Chef said, inserting the ball gag back into Gabby’s beak, muffling her moans again. “Now then!” He said, clapping his hooves together, “since we’re short on time, I’ll just go ahead to the next step. Getting our hen ready for plating.”With that, The Chef stepped away from Gabby and walked over to where the large stock pot was bubbling merrily on the burner. He leaned down and retrieved a large syringe-like object from the cupboard under the counter with a plug shaped nozzle on one end. “Remember when I said we’d be reusing our hen’s juices?” He tapped the lid of the pot with the syringe, “what I have in here is an altered version of your typical cranberry sauce, using Starbright as a base instead of water.”

Gabby’s eyes widened, Starbright was one of the many non-alcoholic concoctions that was served in the Society. The Zebrican concoction heightened the body’s sensitivity to incredible levels, making a simple touch feel… Gabby shook her head. He used that as the base? Her mind raced as her body shuddered in anticipation for what he was about to do.

The Chef sauntered back to Gabby, syringe in hoof and began sucking in her spilled juices with the implement before returning to the simmering pot and opening the lid, resulting in a large cloud of steam billowing out, followed by the mouthwatering aroma of the stewing cranberries. Without further ado, The Chef raised the syringe and depressed the plunger, squirting her sticky juices into the already syrupy concoction before grabbing a ladle in his other hoof and stirring it in.

“For those of you who don’t know,” The Chef began as he meticulously mixed the hen’s juices into the dull red mixture, “Starbright is a Clocktower concoction derived from a Zebrican heat potion. It partially disables the buffer that dulls sensation, the actual recipe is known only by the Zebrican Potion Masters and members of CTRL however.” He grinned as he finally finished mixing the concoction, letting it cool before dipping the syringe into it again and pulling the plunger back, drawing in the sauce, cranberries and all into the clear tube.“You’re going to want to make sure your hen is properly cleaned for this next part,” he remarked as he walked back over Gabby, loaded syringe in hoof. He walked back behind her again and inserted the bulbed nozzle of the tool into her asshole, drawing a muffled squeak from the hen as her ass was suddenly violated, “for the sake of time, I had my assistants clean her properly backstage so we can get right to the dressings.”He depressed the plunger, ejecting the warm, syrupy concoction into Gabby’s ass, causing her eyes to roll back in sheer bliss as each individual berry in the sauce made a soft pop as they pushed past the end of the nozzle and into her bowels, filling her with warmth… a warmth that quickly grew as the Starbright began to take effect. She trilled in lusty pleasure as she was filled, stuffed like a proper hen. Each berry that made it past her anal bud making a greater and greater impact as more of the starbright sauce was pumped into her.

Suddenly, all too suddenly, The Chef stopped pressing down on the plunger. Gabby let out a low whine as her thighs trembled, subtly shaking her rear with a needy expression on her face. Without the constant stimulation of the syringe’s contents, the painful, burning need began to spread through her. The Chef chuckled, lightly spanking her croup, drawing a shocked gasp from her as the Starbright magnified the sensation tenfold, a pleasurable tingling sensation spreading from the shallow hoofprint in her coat, just before she was grabbed around her waist and turned over carefully, the agonizingly slow process made even more painful as the Starbright made her feel every little feather, every patch of fur as she was flipped onto her back and had her tail unbound and tied down to the cart with a minimal amount of rope.

“Be sure to be very gentle with your hen during this point of the final preparation,” The Chef said, grunting as he carefully set her down on the cart again, her filled pussy exposed fully to the audience as The Chef reached for the knotted dildo in her snatch, “if you’re too forceful, she’ll spasm and all your work will be lost, we don’t want that, now do we?”

Finally, he pulled out a set of clamps from the pocket of his apron and with one swift motion, pulled the dripping, knotted toy from her ravaged pussy and spread them wide, carefully attaching the clamps to each of her lips and looping the other end through a slot in each of her rear cuffs, drawing a hoarse squeal from Gabby as the clamps bit mercilessly into her soft flesh, spreading her and causing a small dribble of “gravy” to slip out of her snatch. “And now for the final touch, simply drizzle a little of our special sauce of her...” The Chef said, raising the syringe into position again, and depressed the plunger, letting a long, steady drizzle of the dark red sauce into and around her snatch. The dark red liquid pooling inside her pussy mixed with the white gravy as the warmth of the starbright spread through Gabby once more, causing her to shudder in pleasure as her eyes rolled back in orgasmic bliss. Her body was merely going through the motions at this point, she’d cum so many times already that the pleasure had all begun to blend together into a constant state of bliss. “...aaaand we’re done!” The chef said pleasantly, giving the finished bird a quick once-over, pausing slightly when he saw the blank, pleasure-addled look in Gabby’s eyes before turning to the assembled audience.“There you have it, fillies and gentlecolts, a fresh holiday turkey, thoroughly prepared and perfectly seasoned for the palate-pleasing pleasures of any high-class table.” He bowed to thunderous applause, waiting a few moments before continuing, “now, if you would all proceed toward the exit, you will find a gift from me: a selection of your own turkeys with my own seal of approval. Each of you may select one and practice this recipe in the adjoining economics classroom, my staff will be around to assist as needed...”Gabby didn’t hear what he said next as her eyes drifted shut, letting herself drift off into a soft slumber...

Gabby groaned as she began to regain consciousness, her head was still fuzzy from all the orgasms she’d just gone through. She smacked her dry beak, stirring slightly. She wasn’t sure where she was, nor did she care. All she knew was that she was moving.“Here, drink this, can’t have you getting dehydrated now.” A gentle, yet firm voice said as she felt something cold lightly touch her cheek before a straw brushed against her beak. Her beak closed around the straw automatically. A cool, refreshing liquid began to fill her mouth. Water.Greedily, she gulped down the life giving substance, allowing its cool embrace to soothe the various minor aches that had just begun to set into her bones. “Wh-where am I?” She croaked, her voice was still rough from all her moaning and screaming. It didn’t look like she’d be singing anytime soon.

“We’re on our way to get you a bath. You’ve earned it after everything you’ve been through.” The voice replied just as they turned a corner. Gabby nodded and tried cracking her eyes open, only to shut them as piercing light lanced into her retinas with merciless abandon, drawing a somewhat pained groan from the hen. “Just lie back and rest now, Gabby. I’ll take care of everything from here on out.”

Gabby gave a very griffon-like grunt as she squeezed her eyes shut again. “Who are you?” She mumbled.

“My name is Golden Grape. You probably don’t really remember me, but we met in Ponyville once.” Grape said, speaking in soothing tones.“Sorry, I can’t place the name with your face until I see it.” She replied groggily.

“Remember? We met on the bridge near the town square. I was dealing with some major horse apples and then you came along, gave me a hug, and said ‘everything would be ok’.” He chuckled a bit, his voice trailing off before continuing. “We’d just met and you’d already done so much for me. So when I heard about you going through a funk, I decided to return the favor as best a novice dom could. Did it help?”Realization flooded through Gabby as she remembered exactly who this pony was, what she’d done at that time was purely on instinct, but to ‘see’ him here of all places, doing his best to make her feel better caused her chest swell with happiness. She let out a soft murr and smiled. “More than you know, Golden. More than you know.”

They traveled in silence for a few minutes before Golden spoke again, “hey Gabby?”She tried again to open her eyes, only to slam them shut again as the lights still proved too bright for her, “yeah?” She said softly, her voice having recovered somewhat.“I wasn’t… I didn’t go too far with you did I? I saw your face at the end of the prep and I got a little worried… ” He chuckled nervously, “you looked really spaced out, and I thought I’d accidentally broken you to the point where you couldn’t use your bell, so I ended the class a bit early...”Gabby snorted and swatted his chest lightly with her tail, “Golden, I know my limits. You were pushing them in ways no one else had in a long time sure, but breaking me would take a little bit more than that.”“O-oh… Well that’s a relie-” Golden mumbled, only to have his next sentence interrupted by Gabby’s tail tapping his chest again, “wasn’t quite finished there Golden.” She said simply.“S-sorry...” He mumbled again.Gabby coughed lightly, clearing her throat a bit before continuing, “I really had fun tonight Golden, seriously, no one’s been able to thrill me like that in a long time, so please, don’t worry about being too rough with me, you were fine. Heck, I’d say you were more than fine, that’s some impressive stamina you have there.” She turned her head toward him, offering a smirk in his direction.Golden cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I was the one who was trying to make you feel better.” Gabby’s smirk morphed into a soft smile as she turned her head and lay them down on her talons, curling up a little more while purring softly, “kindness is a two-way street Golden, you already proved that much tonight.” Golden was about to retort when the first of her snores reached his ears, rolling his eyes, he slowed his pace, making sure to jostle the cart less so that he wouldn’t wake her again. His mind wandered to the other surprise he’d had prepared for tonight. It was sitting in a drawer in his private chamber, waiting for the result of tonight’s efforts. Though it seemed he’d have to ask her about it when she woke up from her nap first.With a slight spring in his step, Golden Grape wheeled the cart around another corner and through the bustling halls of CTS, humming softly to himself.

Moonlight Initiation by Seraphem (Bondage, gangbang)

Author's Note

Written by veteran CTS author and lorepon,
Seraphem, author of two previous entries in the CTS universe featuring our favourite moonbutt including Luna's Guide to Pleasing Your Master and Lunar Ravishing. Be sure to give him a follow to make sure you don't miss his next entry in the CTS Luna Saga!

Featuring the editing talents of: Pretty Penne (who got lots and lots of belly rubs for her work) and Silent Whisper

Contains: Bondage, gangbang, spit-roasting, mare on mare action, Cult initiation via ritualistic sex, and a princess being petulant.

Moonlight Initiation by Seraphem (Bondage, gangbang)

The mare stumbled, her hoof catching on an uneven flagstone. Before she had time to recover on her own, the ropes attached to her harness were tugged, nearly causing her to fall on her face. The stallions leading her into the cathedral had already made clear that they would drag her to her fate if need be. She only remained on her hooves thanks to the guards stopping in front of the huge wooden doors into cathedral giving her time to regain her balance without being marched forward.

One guard raised a hoof and struck the door, three loud, powerful bangs sounding out through the otherwise still night in a steady, measured beat. The deep echoes made clear just how vast the space behind them was. As the reverberations faded away the doors parted, swinging silently inward, the stallions resuming their march forward. As she passed through the open portal, it swung shut with a loud, hollow boom, sealing her inside, trapping her with these ponies, sealing her fate.

She looked around nervously, the massive hall grander and more intimidating than it had appeared when she had spied down from above the night before. It was also far quieter; no moans of passion, no screams of pain, no cries of pleasure, no sounds of flesh striking flesh and thick fluids dripping and flooding out of bodies to splash on the ground. Instead there was only the occasional hushed whisper, the faint sound of cloth brushing on cloth. A small, muffled cough loud enough to make her jump.

She finally focused her gaze on those around her, the sea of ponies she was being dragged further and further into. She was lead down a narrow aisle that held vast expanses of grey cloaked bodies on either side of the aisle, forms she knew from what she had seen were ponies -both mare and stallion- concealed beneath their robes. Only the occasional hint of a shadowed face could be seen, as nearly all of them also wore some form of mask.

Step by step she walked between the cultists, feeling their eyes boring into her. They made her feel exposed, vulnerable, helpless, even without the coarse ropes steadily dragging her to the front of the cathedral, forcing her to obey, leaving her no choice. The lights were dim, only a few faint glow stones set along the walls shining a meager light on the assembled ponies, along with two small, glowing braziers on either side of the altar that was getting closer with each step. The single largest source of illumination came from the grand, domed skylight, the same one that, just the night before, she had looked through and seen the things that had led her to this fate. The massive glass dome that even now cast a majestic, argent disc of moonlight at the front of the assembly, slowly but steadily making its way towards the altar.

She shivered as she was led into that pool of steady, unwavering light. She almost thought she felt a presence within that soft glow, something calm, soothing, gentle. A force of peaceful repose, yet one that also held a promise of unstirred passions, that seemed to ask her to to allow it to fan the small, smoldering embers of her desires into a massive conflagration of passion.

All of that faded the moment her unwavering progress towards her fate led her from that magnificent wash of ephemeral beauty. Replaced by the sudden fear and worry as she saw they had reached the end of the procession. Before her stood the altar, a brilliant white stone, with deep, smooth depressions that she could see were made to perfectly cup and hold a pony in place upon it. The guards turned, confirming her suspicions as they unclipped the ropes from her harness, firmly pushed her into place, grabbed her legs, and forced them into the grooves. As each one settled, a loud clank broke the silence, cold, metal restraints snapping shut, trapping her. In the end, she was sprawled on her belly, her rear pointed towards the assembly, her legs spread. The dock ring she’d had forced on her before the trip started prevented her from having the slightest bit of modesty.

The stallions moved back, taking up stations at either side and snapping to attention as another figure approached from the shadows, a tall, slender pony, robed in white. The way the hood tented over her made clear she was a unicorn while her to to make out a cream colored muzzle under the shadows, She sashayed forward, stopping just in front of the bound mare, looking her over quickly before lifting her head and addressing the congregation. “Mine brothers and sisters! Rejoice! Tonight We are gifted once more with an interloper, an outsider whose mettel We shall put to the test! We shalt see if she is worthy of possessing our secrets! This poor soul intruded on our sacred ceremonies! Violated our sanctity! Now the time has come to pass our judgement upon her! Will the awakening fires consume her, leave her naught but an empty shell, reduced to mindless cravings? Or will it temper her into a vessel for our use? We shall find out. Brothers and sisters, do not hold back, test this new one to the limit! Make her prove and earn her worthiness to theeas she endures the secrets she has stolen from us!”The priestess lifted one foreleg free of the robes, pointing at the approaching pool of radiant light. “The moment the great circle of our Mistress’ light touches the altar, thou mayst approach. Thou wilt have until the last argent beam of glorious moonlight has passed her by to work upon her. To push her till she is either broken or tempered!” She looked down at the mare. A ring gag moving to hover in front of the bound captives face. “Any final words? Speak now, for they shall be the last words thou wilt ever utter in this life. Should thou be able to speak again, it will be as a new being.”

The mare shook her head. She had no idea what to say. Nothing she could do would stop this, or save her. She had no idea what else might be said. She felt her jaw pried open by magic, the gag quickly stuffed into place, the priestess apparently not wishing to wait longer and taking her shake as all that was needed.

She heard shuffling behind her, but was unable to look back. She could only imaging what was going on, could only picture the ponies getting closer, the robes opening, revealing the instruments about to be used on her. She moaned, whined, helpless, so close to the end of her old life, unable to stop anything, and not certain she would want to.

Her whimpering turned into a long, gasping cry as she felt the divine light touch her, filling her with the same energy, the same calming promise as before. She barely had time to consider this before hooves landed hard on the stone to either side of her, the first stallion to test her taking his place. She felt his rigid breeding spear poking her rear, shifting, moving as he sought his prize, sought the tight, untouched flower she had hidden for so long.

Caring nothing for her desires to have saved herself for her special somepony, nothing of easing her into this, seeking only to quench the burning lust the moonlight ignited in him, he drove his hips forward, making the mare scream as her innocence was ripped away, her body made to experience its first taste of its new purpose.

Tears leaked down her cheek, her scream quickly turned into a moan as the initial pain faded, replaced by a building sense of pleasure. She could feel her foal-hole being spread wide, straining to accept its first virile stallion cock, aching, painful, and yet giving her a sense of fullness and completion she’d never noticed she’d been missing before. Over and over, again and again the stallion drove his mighty pillar of flesh into the whimpering, crying, moaning, writhing mare. Relentlessly sculpting her body into a vessel for others’ enjoyment.

The pain and pleasure mixed, leaving her unable to tell which was which. She was overwhelmed by it all. Or thought she was, until the stallion cried out, slamming hard into her body, his virile scepter of lust throbbing inside of her tight depths. A moment later, she felt the first heavy, hot, thick rush of a stallion’s seed pouring into her body, forever marking her, claiming her, making her what she has accepting she was always meant to be. She screamed louder than before, but now in pure pleasure, desire, lust, passion.

A sudden emptiness overtook her, turning her screams into needy, plaintive whimpers as the thick, throbbing rod of passion that had broken her and made her realize her true calling was removed. She knew she could no longer feel complete without some thrusting, driving breeding spear spreading her marehood wide. The feeling of his seed still inside her, leaking down her legs, was not nearly enough to sate that need.

She didn’t have long to wait however, as another stallion was already mounting the alter, driving his own cock deep into her body, her already ravished and no longer virginal tunnel accepting it with ease. She ignored the dull ache of her still sore and over stretched flesh under the pure pleasure and rightness of the feeling of being filled once more.

She looked up as a shadow fell over her face, her eyes locking on a third glorious instrument of submission. Her first close look at a stallion’s glory cut short as he drove it forward, sliding it through the ring of her gag and into her mouth. After a moment of shock at this all new violation of her body, her tongue moved up, licking along the heavy shaft, the taste like nothing she’d ever experienced. Heavy, musky, salty, but with a wild hint of something indescribable. Her tongue lashed all over the treat it had been given, not working to please it, simply seeking to touch and taste as much of it as possible, her wild, passionate actions making the stallion claiming her lips moan.

The two glorious shafts began to work in and out of her body, her mind nearly shutting down from the overwhelming sensation. The cock in her mouth made small, gentle motions, pushing right till she felt it start to slide into her throat before receding, while the one behind her hammered into her body relentlessly, the stallion claiming his pleasure from her body. When the cock in her mouth flared, she barely noticed ‘til the first heavy wave of cum filled it. She struggled to swallow, to accept the gift of his seed, to not spill any of it as more and more was pumped into her. Too much; she could feel it leaking out of her mouth and down her chin. The stallion eventually pulled out, letting her watch as a thick rope of jizz erupted from the tip of the magnificent maleness to splatter across her muzzle.

A new shaft replaced it quickly, this one actually pushing till her throat was full of succulent meat. A sudden emptiness descending on her nethers as the second stallion pulled out, the mare too caught up in what was going on in front of her to notice she’d been filled with yet another load. Rather than a heavy thump of hooves landing on the altar and feel of a rigid cock penetrating her cunt, she felt a small, almost dainty muzzle nuzzling her abused, leaking, sore marehood. A mare!? A moment later a long, energetic tongue probed into her depths. She tried to gasp, only for it to be muffled by the cock still sliding down into her throat. She was being touched, licked, by another mare!? This was wrong, it wasn’t right, a mare should not cause such perverse pleasure to another mare… and she definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. The sheer depravity of it, combined with the expert skill of whoever it was behind her, caused her entire existence to become nothing but an endless moment of sheer bliss. Her second orgasm eclipsed the transcendent ecstasy of the first as everything was overshadowed by the feeling of being used, violated, licked, fucked, forced to accept that this was who she was, what she wanted.

Everything after that blurred together, the mare no longer able to count how many times she was used, how many cocks filled her mouth or marehood, how many loads of thick, sweet, delicious cum she was forced to milk. How many times a mare took her, forced her to press the gag against a cum-filled slit and lick. All while the moonlight, the sacred, energizing moonlight slid over her. Reassuring her this was right, this was who she was, who she’d always been, what she’d always wanted, allowing her to admit it, to see it. She was meant to be a vessel for others’ passions, a willing slave to the needs of these glorious ponies.

The circle of moonlight was nearly past, just the lower portion still illuminating her head and shoulders. She was alone, the ponies using her having stepped back to where she couldn’t see them. The priestess moved over to her, the mare barely able to see a smile on her shadowed muzzle. “There is yet time for one final test, one last chance to have thy body and mind pushed, the limits of thy previous life destroyed. Prepare thyself little one.”At a nod from the tall, robed mare, hooves slid along the altar, another master mounting her. Rather than the expected feeling of her dripping, cum filled breeding tunnel being violated again, the thick shaft pressed on her tight, puckered tail-hole. She squealed, her eyes going wide, but she was too exhausted to struggle. She could feel something cold and slippery coating the shaft, easing it in as the stallion drove his hips down, but it did little to ease the pain of having her final illusion of innocence removed, having her last untouched orifice turned into another hole for her masters to fuck.

She cried out: moaning, screaming, they were indistinguishable to her now. Inch after inch, the final instrument of her transformation invaded her body, violated her form, debased her very soul. The whole time the enigmatic priestess looked on, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.

With a grunt the stallion hilted, his balls slapping wetly against her slit. Allowing her no reprieve, he began to rut her, his shaft hammering at her hole, plunging in again and again. Endless pain and pleasure welled up from her abused body. As the last of the moonlight slid from the tip of her muzzle, the ‘test’ ended, the stallion filling her final hole with seed, ensuring it would forever be nothing more to her but another sheath in which her masters or mistresses may hilt their cocks and toys. Her body was too exhausted to cum hard again, butshe still moaned and shook from the sensation.

All too soon it ended, the stallion withdrawing, leaving a panting, shivering, cum filled and jizz stained mare lying alone on the altar, still pinned in place. The Priestess approached, a tap of her hoof on the stone causing the binding to snap open. She bent down, removing the gag and setting it aside. One hoof gently traced down the mare’s cheek, sliding under her chin to lift her face up. “You have done well, little one.” Leaning down, she kissed the formerly bound mare lightly on the lips. “You have accepted your role, your true self, passed through the fires of passion and emerged tempered. The pony you were is dead, gone. It was merely a lie, a shell to hide the true beauty of your truth from those that would hate and fear it. Now, it is gone, cast off. Welcome to your new home, your new family, and your new life. Welcome to the Moonlight Society.”

“What dost thou think, Mi Amore?” Luna looked over at the pink alicorn, a wide smile on her muzzle and a sparkle of enjoyment in her eyes.

Cadance sighed and shook her head. No matter what issues might arise while helping her new aunt adjust to modern life and return to the Clocktower Society, she could never fault Luna’s enthusiasm. Even if it could be misplaced at times. “Well, honestly? That sounded really fun and was incredibly hot..” She managed to keep her voice level, giving no hint of just how exciting she found Luna’s little story to be, nor how much her mind wandered during her aunt’s excitable recitation. Though, she couldn't help but push her rump a bit harder into the cushion she was sitting on, feeling a wet spot spread across the fabric.

As Luna beamed, Cadance sighed again, dropping the other horseshoe. “But no, it is not going to be something that will ever be used instead the regular application and enrollment forms.” One wing gestured at the piles of such paperwork scattered around the bed her aunt was laying on. The primary registration book sat open in the center of it all, opened to a point just before the halfway mark.

Luna’s grin turned into a rather adorable pout. “Fie! And why not? Such an act would be far more pleasurable and better indication of a pony’s ability and devotion than this tiresome scribe work!”

Cadance made sure her aunt was glaring at the offending paperwork and not at her before rolling her eyes, though she still maintained a small hint of a smile on her muzzle. “There are a number of reasons that wouldn’t work and you know it. You can’t just toss somepony into a situation like this and expect them to know how to handle it safely. Yes the paperwork is tedious, but it has a purpose.”Luna let out an aggravated moan, roughly shoving a random pile of paper away with her hoof. “Thou are not wrong Mi Amore, but it does not make this drudgery any more palatable. Nor change Our preference for how such things used to be handled.”

Cadance got up off her cushion, making her way towards the bed. She let her magic gently spread out around the room, searching, looking for what she suspected would be- Ah! The gentle smile on her muzzle grew into a grin as her eyes sparkled at finding what she was looking for. “Auntie, there are a few things wrong with that. The biggest being what you described was never how things were handled.” She reached the edge of the bed, holding up a hoof to silence the other alicorn’s reply before it started. “I know this, because; one, I’ve read through a great deal of the Den Mother archives and saw nothing even close to that, and, two-”

Her magic gripped the small item she had found tucked under Luna’s pillows, pulling the book out from it’s hiding spot and letting it hover next to her. “A Cult of Passion is one of my favorite Heart Song stories, so I know exactly where you got that scene from.” She pursed her lips and paused for a moment before continuing. “Though I do have to admit the embellishments you added were a nice touch, especially that description of the moonlight’s effects on her.”

It took nearly all of her self control to keep from breaking out in fits of laughter at Luna’s reaction. Even though Luna’s coat had been steadily getting darker over the last few weeks, it was not dark enough to hide the furious blush spreading across her cheeks, which only made it harder for Cadance to keep a calm expression, her aunt looking like a pet that had just got caught doing something it knew was wrong. When Luna spoke, her voice was quieter, lacking the dramatic flair from before. “Thou speaks true. However, We were referring to how it used to be the purview of scribes to perform such menial tasks.”“Oh!” Cadance was glad her own coat was likely to hide the small flush she felt creeping over her face. “Sorry. There really aren’t many scribes left. I mean there are some yes, though they mostly copy ancient texts into newer, less about to turn to dust tomes and the like. They fell out of common use once most ponies could read and write.” She climbed up onto the bed, nestling down next to her aunt and running her teeth through Luna’s mane. “Just focus on the reward at the end. Once you get this done, I know a place in the Society where we can easily set up that exact little scenario.”

Luna sighed, twisting just enough to look at Cadance without disturbing her work. “Mi Amor- Cadance. Tis barely hyperbole to claim that We- I. I wouldst rather be tied down helplessly in the heart of the Everfree and have mineself used for the relief of a pack of alpha timberwolves than continue with these accursed pieces of parchment right now.”

Cadance let a mischievous gleam slip into her eyes as she made a show of thinking. “You know, we can set up you going through exactly what you described easily enough as well.”The shocked, but also rather excited look on Luna’s face finally made Cadance break, she let out a long peal of laughter, wrapping a wing around the other Princess in a quick hug. As she finally got the laugher under control she shook her head. “You should see the look on your face. But, I get it, you need a break. Why don’t we just finish up this one section, you only have two pages left, then we’ll take a break and work on getting you caught up with modern times instead. There is this thing called a ‘triple layer, peanut butter fudge and rocky road ice cream sundae’ that will more than make up for the loss of scribes.”

The Beauty in the Lie by Pretty Penne (A very beautiful poem)

Author's Note

Written by our wonderful editor and resident pasta pon, Pretty Penne!

Featuring the editing talents of her Master, Seraphem, and Troposphere.

Content Warning: Lewd Imagery, BDSM, The Word Cock, Iambic Pentameter,

The Beauty in the Lie by Pretty Penne (A very beautiful poem)

The Beauty in the Lie

The hardest part about this life of Service,
Is not the outfits, prisons made of silk.
It’s not the whips and crops that make us nervous.
The burns and scars, the trappings of our ilk.

You might think it’s the sweeter degradations
That harshly echo from our Owners’ lips,
Or else the low, hissed calls for reparations
For even the most innocent of slips.

One could assume the stringent exhibitions,
The stocks and locks and cocks are what we fear.
But those devour our stabbing inhibitions,
With burning cheeks spurred on by piercing leers.

The muting bit and bridle, crop and halter,
Bring numb serenity and peace of mind.
And never is a Servant found to falter
When collars promise pain and love in kind.

The utter helplessness is not a burden,
But freedom from the burdens of control.
Our hopes and fears locked tight by chosen wardens,
Who only then demand we pay their toll,

Of burning, shifting ropes, of groans of panic
That deeply bury maudlin, solemn blisses.
Of skin-tight rubber squeaks coercing manic
Ecstasies, beyond sad paltry kisses.

So no, the hardest part of true Submission
Is not the little tells behind their masks,
The prideful smirks, the merciful permission.
The sparks of mirth as we fulfill our tasks.

It’s not the moments past the frantic sweating,
As Owners look right through us as they spy
The inner truths we’ve spent our lives forgetting,
And promise us those days have passed us by.

The hardest part? The outside world we slink to with a sigh,
That scoffs and scorns, and makes us hide our beauty in a lie.

Dinner at the Lunar Belle, by Brony-Wan-Kenobi (Food Play, Bondage)

Author's Note

Written by the acclaimed veteran CTS author, Brony-Wan-Kenobi, who has written two entries in the CTS universe, Hunter's Moon and Hunter's Catch. If you haven't already, go visit his page and follow him to make sure you don't miss out on more of his CTS works!

Featuring the editing talents of: Javarod and Silent Whisper

Contains: Bondage, Food Play

Dinner at the Lunar Belle, by Brony-Wan-Kenobi (Food Play, Bondage)

It was well past midnight and, within the vast halls of the Clocktower Society East, many of its occupants were keeping themselves busy as they indulged themselves on the various kinks. There was no shortage of subs writhing in ecstasy as all of their holes were filled while using the Tentacle Pit. Doms were moving about the Slave Pens, looking over the many red and white collared subs that may wish to be theirs for the remainder of the evening. Those within the Hunting Grounds, the City, and the Slums were all moving about in non-consensual play. The Cum Dumps were packed with doms as the filled up the sub’s holes, using them as nothing more than mere objects while they were bound.

While all of those were tempting places to go to, Hunter and his beloved sub Moondancer had a different… appetite for this evening. The brown thestral and his adorkable unicorn were currently in an area that so resembled the City, their favorite area to be in, but was different in so many ways. All around there were shops and café’s that all had that Clocktower touch to them. In many of them, hanging upside down in the windows, were subs tied up in various ways that showed them off in the most erotic ways. Another shop also had bound subs, but they were kept in metal frames that kept them forced still in lewd poses that only a mask wearing dom could alter. Let’s not forget about the Clocktower sex toy shops, looking more like toy stores for young colts and fillies. These places sold the top of the line Clocktower BDSM gear and other sexually related toys that made the ones that were sold to the general public look tame.

On one of this area’s many streets the couple found themselves standing at the gates of a fancy eating area. At first glance it would have looked like one of the posh outdoor restaurants that one would find in Prance or Canterlot with the mouthwatering scent of Itstallion cooking filling the air. Just one whiff told Hunter that he would get a meal that would put nearly any restaurant on Restaurant Row to shame. Not that that was saying much but still. And, of course, since this was an establishment within the Clocktower Society it came with its own kink that anyone passing by could clearly see.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” asked Hunter quietly into Moondancer’s ear, tugging at the leash that was connected to her black collar to keep her close. “This’ll be different than what we’ve done before.”

“Well,” began Moondancer, her face red as she watched one of the patrons eating his meal off his ‘plate’. “I-I know you’ve wanted to try this place out for a while now. And I’m up to a-a little variety every now and then.”

Hunter opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when they heard the rapid ringing of a bell. Hunter, Moondancer, and every other creature in the area turned their heads to where the sound of a bell just kept on ringing while sobbing filled the air. Various patrons rose from their seats, boding pointing in the direction of a panicked stricken dom who realized too late he had gone too far. Guards and Den Mothers quickly arrived to help the sobbing sub, leading her to closest Den Mother’s Den along with the dom who was apologizing repeatedly.

As everydom took their seats once more, Hunter gave Moondancer another look. “Still sure you want to try this?” he asked.

Moondancer bit her lower lip for a moment and then nodded. “I trust you master,” she said firmly while her face reddened. “With my heart, my mind, and my body. I know that they are safe with you.”

For a moment Hunter said nothing. He could tell that there was a part of her that was unsure about this and he could not blame her for that. Because of that uncertainty, Hunter was less willing to bring her into the restaurant. Yet, she was saying that she was trusted him to take care of her. To make sure she wouldn’t get hurt while trying something new. Even something that might cause her some hesitation.

“Very well,” he whispered into her ear. “We shall dine here. But I will be watching you closely my dear slave. If you are not honest with me, if I think for a moment you might be avoiding using your bell, we will leave. Is that understood?”

“Oh yes master!” cried a happy Moondancer before Hunter tugged on the leash. Together they walked to the entrance where a serving mare was stationed. She wore a red vest that matched her red studded collar, signaling that she was owned by the Society.

“Welcome to Lunar Belle,” the serving mare said while making a bow, her flank raised high into the air while moving her tail out of the way so all those behind her may see her abused holes. “Where we hope that your sub’s bell never rings. May I ask if this if your first time here?”

“It is,” replied Hunter honestly.

“Very well then,” she said while picking out a menu that had the word ‘Beginner’ written in fancy letters on the cover. “Will you be requiring one of our own plates? We have a very wide selection that you may choose from. Or would you prefer to use your own?”

“I’ll use my own,” replied Hunter with a grin.

“Excellent,” said the mare, turning as she did. “Please follow me.” As Hunter and Moondancer began to walk through the restaurant, neither one of them could fail to notice something about this mare. With each step she took, her tail sashayed to reveal a bit sized crystal anal plug in her backdoor.

Before they could notice anything else, they had arrived at what Hunter had to assume was their table. From where he was standing the table looked like a painter’s pallet that had been split in two with a seat placed in the middle. The seat honestly reminded him a bit of the devices he’d seen in the Cum Dumps meant to hold the submissive while the dom remained standing. Only this one was more curved. There were also lavish cushions set in front of the table. Looking around quickly, Hunter noticed that all the doms here were sitting on these cushions like a Saddle Arabian sultan.

At once, the serving mare went to work, moving Moondancer onto the seat. Like Hunter had guessed, Moondancer was positioned with her rear pointing in the air while her head was fitted snuggly at the bottom. As Hunter took his place, it was hard not to notice that the way this was situation allowed Moondancer an optimal amount of room to worship his cock. As the serving mare closed the table so that it became one, making it so that only Moondancer’s lower body was visible, he could feel her warm breath against his balls and the base of his shaft. Once the table was locked into place, the serving mare began to lock both Moondancer’s hind legs to the table via her hoof bands. The same was done with her tail, pulling it to the opposite end of the table so that her two lower holes were fully exposed.

After the serving mare tested to make sure that Moondancer’s legs were secure and couldn’t move, she pulled out the finishing touches. The first were a pair of clover clamps that bit into Moondancer’s folds causing her to cry out. With very little mercy, the serving mare took the cables hanging from the clamps and connected them to his subs legs, effectively keeping Moondancer’s foal hole open. It was then that the serving mare pulled out crystal anal plug much like the one she was wearing. The mare reached into a pocket on the inside of her vest and pulled out a onetime use packet of Clocktower Society Mare Cum Lube which she opened before smearing it all over the plug. Once everything in the packet was spent, the mare inserted the toy into Moondancer’s rear earning a gasp of shock. Looking at it, Hunter could clearly see the words ‘Press for Service’ written in bright letters on the plug.

“Please take your time and look over the menu,” said the serving mare as she bowed low again. “You may summon me or any of the other serving mares whenever you desire anything.”

As the mare left, Hunter glanced around to see what everydom around him was eating before opening his own menu. Just by glancing at it, he could see that his options were far more limited. Still, a good sampler of things to be should he wish it.

Right as he was about to make his choice, the feeling of a tongue moving across his sack caught his attention. With a playful frown that he knew she couldn’t see, Hunter swatted her folds which were desperately trying to wink at him.

“Not yet slave,” said Hunter as he felt Moondancer’s tongue leave him. “Wait until the food gets here.”

“But master,” whined Moondancer from below. “I’m hungry now for my favorite meal. Please, allow me to pleasure you so that I may receive your divine cream.”

“You shall only have it when I allow you to,” ordered Hunter firmly, swatting her cunt harder this time as he felt the tip of her tongue against his coat.

In less than a minute, Hunter knew what he wanted to get. He was about to raise a hoof in order to get the serving mare’s attention, but the crystal anal plug caught his attention. Hunter wondered if it would work, but then shook his head with a grin. Of course it would work! At everything he had seen since becoming a member it was almost silly to think otherwise. Without anymore hesitation, Hunter reached forwards and pressed the anal plug.

As the anal toy went deeper into his subs rectum, Hunter watched in amazement as it began to glow red before becoming slightly warmer and vibrating. At the same time, he heard several gasps followed by moaning from all of the service mares in the area. Below the table, he could feel Moondancer breathing heavily as her head thrashed back and forth slightly. For a brief moment, Hunter let go to find that when he did the glow of the crystal faded while sliding back up as if on its own power. Smirking now, Hunter took hold of the plug again and, like a foal finding a bell at a hotel desk, began to press on it over and over again.

Eventually, a different serving mare approached him. Like the one who had lead him to the table, she too was wearing a red vest the matched not only her collar but also the blush on her face. Biting her lower lip and her tail pressed against her ponut, she moved slowly to his side before stopping. Anydom in the area could smell her arousal.

“Have you decided what you would like sir?” she asked in a timid voice.

“Yes,” replied Hunter as he hoofed over the menu. “I’ll have the spaghetti and hay balls with the alicorn mane pasta.”

“As you desire,” said the mare with a bow. Then, without another word, she trotted away. When she returned a moment later it was with a dining cart full of the ingredients to make Hunter’s dish. There was a small bowl of cool, thin strands of pasta as well as another bowl full of warm looking hay balls, each the size of a bit. There was also a plastic bag that reminded Hunter of something he had seen a baker use to decorate a cake. Only, he doubted that the red sauce in it was frosting.

The serving mare worked swiftly to prepare Hunter’s meal, starting with the sauce. She took the plastic bag and placed it within Moondancer’s exposed cunny. As soon as it was inside, the serving mare began to apply pressure to the bag so that it would shoot the sauce into the empty birthing hole. Moondancer let out a loud gasp followed by a series of pants that started to make Hunter worried. Her bell wasn’t ringing nor had she said the safe word, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about her. Quickly he peaked up the table only to breathe a sigh of relief. Moondancer’s eyes were closed and she was breathing quicker than normal, but there were no tears leaking for her closed eyes nor were her teeth gritted.

When Hunter righted himself, he saw that Moondancer’s pussy was now full of the sauce and the bag had been put away. Now the serving mare was placing the noodles down Moondancer’s legs causing them to twitch slightly. Once that was completed, several hay bales were placed around her open petals along with two breadsticks. With her work finished, the serving mare bowed down low before departing again.

Licking his lips, Hunter picked up a fork that had been left there. “Ok slave,” said Hunter softly as he moved the fork over to the middle of her left leg. “Let’s eat.” As Hunter lowered the fork he felt Moondancer’s lips wrap around one of his balls and began to suck on it. The needy mare’s mouth was like a vacuum so powerful that he almost stabbed her leg. Almost.

With the greatest of care, Hunter made sure that fork pressed against her with enough force so that she could feel it. And he was rewards by hearing her gasp and her leg twitch slightly before he continued to swirl the instrument around. Once he had collected enough pasta, all balled up at the end of his fork, he smirked before bringing it over to where the sauce was. In a quick motion he plunged the noodles into her cunt, thrusting in and out several times causing Moondancer to release him again so that she could cry out. It was only when he felt that his food had been coated well enough did he bring it to his mouth.

The taste was simply divine. The noodles had been cooked to perfection and the sauce complemented it perfectly. It was warm, just about the same temperature as a pony’s body as to not hurt the sub filled with it. What made it even better was that he could still taste that wonderfully, unique flavor of Moondancer which he oh so loved.

“I thought you were hungry,” said Hunter after he had swallowed, noticing the lack of effort on Moondancer’s part. He then swatted Moondancer with his fork near her exposed clit, causing her to flinch again with a gasp. “I guess you were lying to me like a bad slave. And a bad slave is sent to bed without anything to eat.”

“I-I’m not a bad slave,” exclaimed Moondancer as she quickly went back to work on Hunter’s balls, loudly licking them and coating them with her saliva.

“We’ll see,” replied Hunter as he moved the fork over to one of the hay balls. With this he had to be extra careful since they were a bit harder to pierce and, if he used too much force, he might end up hurting his nerdy sub in the process. Moondancer twitched slightly at the pressure but did not stop in her own effort of food as she showered his ball with utter devotion.

In time, Hunter managed to get the food onto his fork without hurting his plate. Like with the noodles, Hunter began to thrust it into her cunny with must gusto. Unlike with the noodles, the hay ball he had secured was a bit rougher and thicker. Hunter could feel the vibrations in his sack before he heard her cry out. Her legs twitched, or at least tried to if the restraints were holding her in play. His heart began to race slightly, fearing that all this might cause his sub to accidently clench her jaw with his sperm maker in her mouth. Yet it did not. Moondancer had instead taken his words to heart, showing how much she wanted to have her belly filled with his foal making cream.

“Much better,” said Hunter after he took a bite out of his food. He then shuffled in his seat in order to back his hips away from Moondancer’s mouth. His sub let out a cry of distress at his that quickly turned into a squeal of joy at seeing her master’s rod move forwards. Looking under the table, Hunter watched as his member moved into her open mouth before it closed around him. At once he felt her tongue wrap around it while feeling her shudder and moan at the taste. With the skills she had learned from many erotic books and their sessions both here within the Society as well as home, she began to suck while making lewd slurping sounds. He could hear the rattle of her glasses as they fell to the floor and, thankfully, there was no shattering noise.

From there, both dom and sub began to feast. As Hunter ate the food off of Moondancer’s body he would tease her with the end of the fork from time to time. He would lightly poke her body with enough force that she felt it and gasp, but never to the point where she might bleed. He would run the metal close to her clit, running it next to the sensitive bundle of nerves causing her to shriek around his cock. A few times he spotted the sauce begin to overflow, running down her body and onto the table telling him that she had cum. Well that as well as both the taste of Moondancer began to overpower the sauce and the fact that the said sauce was starting to appear a bit runnier.

Below, he could feel Moondancer as she tried her best to suck out her own meal. However, this was made somewhat difficult due to her confinement as well as her position which kept her from putting as much effort into her worship as she normally would. Moondancer simply didn’t have the leverage nor the ability to bob her head, leaving her with only a few motions she could do. Extremely pleasing motions that were keeping Hunter on the edge, but right enough to push him over.

But there was a way to fix that. After setting his fork on the table, Hunter began to thrust his hips back and forth. Each motion sent his cock deep into her now well trained throat. The glarping noises she made spurred him on as well as the sight of her cunt trying to wink at him despite the clamps which held it open. He could see with his mind’s eye the bulge in her throat and her own eyes rolling into the back of her head as she waited for her reward.

As Hunter continued, he looked around at the other doms. Some were doing as he was, finishing their meals by plowing into their subs. Others had brought multiple subs, using the extra one to hold glass upon or to have them pleasure their own rods as they leaned back so much that the restrained sub was licking their asshole. Many were still eating off of their plates, including a griffon who was carefully cutting meat resting on his subs legs with the greatest of care.

Before Hunter could notice anything else, he closed his eyes as his orgasm exploded while pulling out of her throat. A blast of cum was sent directly into her stomach while three more filled Moondancer’s mouth. His adorkable sub let out a content hum as he felt her tongue move about her mouth so, savoring the flavor.

“Are you finished,” said a voice next to Hunter. The thestral opened his eyes to see a new serving mare next to him.

“Yeah,” replied Hunter as he pulled his dick out of Moondancer’s mouth.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal,” said the serving mare happily as she began to levitate the table and Moondancer into the air while at the same time handing Hunter the check. “Please take this up to the front. In order for use to gauge how much you enjoyed yourself tonight, please make sure to set your phaser to the appropriate setting. The lower the setting the lower your enjoyment.”

“Is that ok?” asked Hunter who really, really enjoyed himself this evening.

“Don’t worry, she loves the higher settings!” replied that serving mare with a grin. “That’s why she was put out front to begin with! The rest of us can’t handle the really painful stuff like she can. So go on and while you’re pay, we’ll make sure your plate is nice and clean for you free of charge. We hope you dine here again!”

As the serving mare turned to leave, Hunter noticed Moondancer’s fallen glasses. Carefully he picked them up and inspected them to ensure they weren’t damaged. After he was satisfied, Hunter began to head to the front while thinking of a more proper meal for Moondancer. He also wondered how take out worked here, but that was something for anything visit.

The CTS Anniversary Radio Broadcast, by Shutter Speed (Youtube Audio)

Author's Note

By the Clocktower Radio Broadcaster pony Shutter Speed. Be sure to subscribe to his channel on youtube for more CTS radio broadcasts!

The CTS Anniversary Radio Broadcast, by Shutter Speed (Youtube Audio)

The Merits of Journalistic Curiosity - A First-Hoof Account of Changeling Fertility Rituals, by Alias (Changeling-on-Pony Breeding, Bondage, Oviposition)

Author's Note

Written by Alias, changeling queen extraordinaire!

Featuring the editing talents of: Silent Whisper, who was rewarded with a dozen eggs.

Contains: Changeling-on-pony breeding, oviposition, F/F Futa, bondage

The Merits of Journalistic Curiosity - A First-Hoof Account of Changeling Fertility Rituals, by Alias (Changeling-on-Pony Breeding, Bondage, Oviposition)

The Merits of Journalistic Curiosity:

A First-Hoof Account of Changeling Fertility Rituals

Jot Note gives a nervous gulp as she’s led, blindfolded, deep into the bowels of the dungeons below the Society Clocktower. She couldn’t tell exactly where she was being led, only that she had gone down several flights of stairs, and the stone beneath her hooves was getting rougher and more cave-like. She hadn’t gone any further down in a while, but the insistent tug of the leash attached to her red, silver studded collar forced her onwards. The farther in that direction she went, the damper the stone floors seemed to become, and she was growing more aware of a distant, droning buzz that was gradually getting louder.

Jot bites her lip and gives a sigh, as this was far from the first time she had gotten herself into trouble. A journalist by trade, she had always been inquisitive, curious, and determined. She knew the right questions to ask, had a keen instinct for which leads to follow, and a knack for getting to the bottom of things. Of course, this often led to her ending up on the bottom herself, knee deep in whatever trouble she had been sniffing out.

This particular incident had begun almost a week before, when Jot noticed several of her fellow red-collars hadn’t been seen in a few days. It didn’t take too long for her to notice the pattern: it was those with silver studs and purple bands in particular who were the apparent victims. Her casual interest in finding out what was going on suddenly became a little more urgent, as she sported that particular combination around her neck. The ‘abduction’ of silver studded collars was not uncommon in and of itself, as they announced themselves free to be played with by that very indicator. However, so many of them being grabbed up in a short period of time and not resurfacing, and the common bearing of that purple band created a mystery that an inquisitive pony like Joy just couldn’t keep her nose out of. Thus far, she’d managed to avoid getting into any kind of trouble she ended up regretting.

Jot is brought back to the present by the increasing volume of that buzzing noise. It had taken less than a day for her to find someone who had been searching for another purple banded red collar, and only a few minutes after that she was blindfolded, leashed, and spirited away. A sharp tug at the leash forces her to turn, and she blanches a little as she finds herself walking onto a sticky floor. She wanted to lift her blindfold and look at what she was stepping in, but her magic would not come to her, a locking band placed around the base of her horn shortly after the blindfolding.

Thankfully, Jot doesn’t have to wonder for long, as a few steps into the sticky floor brings her to a stop. In addition to the insistent buzzing, she can now make out muffled moans and grunts, very faint, but audible as she perks her ears. Another sound is quick to reach her ears after she stops; a voice this time. It had a peculiar sound to it, a reverberation as though it was echoing off of nothing.

“Oooh, you’ve brought me another one~” the voice coos, the tone sultry and dripping with lust.

Jot’s blindfold is lifted and she gives a gasp as she takes in her surroundings. She was in an enormous chamber, and unlike the typical CTS dungeons, it was carved out very much like a natural cavern. A soft glow fills the chamber, emitting from phosphorescent lichen and fungus growing from the walls and ceiling. In that light, it was easy to make out that much of the floor and walls of the cave were covered in a sticky green resin. As she looked around, Jot quickly notices that it was not the pony who had originally blindfolded her standing beside her now, but the pitch black carapace of a changeling.

The source of the chamber’s buzzing is now apparent, as several more of the insectoid equines crawl around the room. They cling to the walls and ceiling with no difficulty, though a few mill around the floor as well. Everywhere Jot looks, she can see more than just the changelings. Embedded in the walls with their plots (and only their plots) sticking out, glued to the floor in various lewd and exposing positions, or completely cocooned and floating in some kind of translucent green fluid, are the missing red collars. That isn’t the only thing all of the encased ponies had in common however. Every single one of them looks heavily pregnant, their bellies bulging and rounded, though strangely lumpy.

Jot manages to get another nervous gulp in before a yank on the leash brings her attention back to the source of the peculiar voice. She shrinks in on herself a little as she takes in the sight before her. Seated on a throne of polished obsidian is a daunting figure. Tall as any of the Princesses, the jet black carapace of this changeling bears several ‘holes’ in and around her lower legs, while the black chitin is interrupted around her abdomen by bands of dark green. Slitted blue eyes look down upon Jot Note from beneath a tattered looking off-green mane, just below a wicked spike of a horn. A predatory grin exposes a pair of fangs in the Queen’s mouth as she licks her muzzle with an abnormally long tongue, sizing up the offering in front of her.

Jot tries to scoot back as the Queen steps down off her throne towards her, but is brought up short by the leash. The changeling holding it bows before the Queen. “Your Majesty, I hope this latest offering is to your liking.”

“We shall see,” notes the sultry voice of the changeling matriarch as she begins to trot around Jot in a circle. Her eyes roam over the yellow coat of the mare, her sandy brown mane, and stop for a moment to take in the notepad and pencil that adorned her flank. She smiles and nods. “She will do, I think. You are dismissed Mimic.”

The changeling nods and gives a wave of its hoof at the dismissal. “By your leave Queen Alias.”

Jot Note looks up at the changeling Queen, but even as she opens her mouth to say something, the Queen leans in, bringing her muzzle less than an inch away from her own. “Now then, little pony, what is your name?”

Jot experiences a moment of dry mouth, but tries to answer. Before any words can escape her lips however, the Queen presses her lips to hers, causing Jot to give a muffled gasp as she forces her tongue inside. That tongue is frightening, as she is glued to the spot as its bizarre length probes every inch of the inside of her mouth, gliding over her tongue and beneath it, tracing the roof of her mouth, and running over the back of her teeth. She gives a gagging sound as the tongue suddenly gets even longer, diving right down her throat, making her collar feel tight as it goes right down, forcing her nostrils to flare as she inhales sharply through her nose.

After a few moments of throat fucking Jot with her tongue, the Queen pulls it out and licks her lips. “Not a bad flavour,” she notes with a devious giggle. “Now, the correct answer to the question I just asked is ‘eggsack’. Am I making myself clear?” Alias takes a step back and looks at Jot’s tail. Or, more specifically, the safety bell dangling from it. She stares at it insistently, waiting.

Jot pants heavily after Alias withdraws her tongue, and it takes her a few moments to register that she had been asked a question. Her gaze follows the Queen’s stare to her tail and it clicks. She could, if she desired, walk away now. She could ring her bell or speak a safeword and trot away, scott free, and have the answer she had been seeking. Except that she wouldn’t. An unnaturally curious mare, Jot knows she wouldn’t be satisfied unless she learns everything that is going on here.

It is easy enough to guess what was going on, and looking around really cemented it. However, looking and seeing were quite a bit different from truly understanding. To really know a story, to understand a scoop, Jot has to get in deep, to experience with her whole being, and all of her senses. Thus far, she had little reason to regret all the times she’d done so before, no matter how sore and sweaty she might have been afterwards. With a nervous gulp, she takes the plunge, giving her bell a single ring to indicate that it was working, and waits.

The Queen listens to the clear, crystalline chime of that bell and looks delighted. She trots around behind the mare and runs that devious tongue over each of her flanks while still standing, without even bothering to lean in, making the mare quiver. She lights up her horn, yanking her tail up and producing an eep before leaning in and sniffing at the eggsack-to-be. The intense tongue kissing and the licking of her flanks had already excited Jot, her nethers glistening with arousal.

Alias inhales deeply, breathing in the lust that radiates off of the mare. The spicy, fragrant emotion was far and away her favourite, and she salivates openly at the taste of it. She lets her tongue slide out of her mouth, running it once up the slit, then once more back down. She presses the tip of it to that delicious little button as Jot gives an involuntary wink, before sliding her tongue inside, parting the mare’s nether lips and probing around her walls. Taking in her taste, seeking out sweet spots, and generally enjoying herself, Alias revels in the ‘sampling’ before pulling her tongue out. “You’ll do nicely~” she coos lustily.

Jot quickly dissolves into a shaking, shuddering mess as that impossibly wonderful tongue assails her nethers. She quickly works up a healthy slathering of juices for the Queen to taste as she’s teased, only to give a sharp gasp as her clit is licked. That sharp gasp becomes an insistent moan as the tongue slides inside, her hips bucking back against her captor each time she hits a sweet spot. She’s left panting once more as the tongue is withdrawn, knees shaking and barely able to stand.

Alias takes notice of Jot’s weak knees and smirks. Without saying anything, she places her hooves on the journalist, manhandling her and posing her with her rump in the air and her forelegs down on the ground. She spreads her hind legs and lifts her tail up, while pressing her face down against her hooves. As Jot glances back, the Queen’s horn lights up, a powerful telekinesis holding her in that position. Alias moves a hoof to her nethers, maintaining eye contact with her captive. With a soft moan she removes a glob of congealed gel-like substance. The very same resin that coated much of the chamber wobbles in that hoof before she applies the blob to one of Jot’s hind hooves. It quickly becomes sticky and stretchy, gluing her hoof in place.

Alias repeats this process on Jot’s other leg, making sure they would stay separated with her backside on full display. “Now,” she notes as she begins to trot around her latest victim, secreting more resin with a pleased noise. “Serving the hive is a great honour, and you should be pleased that I’ve decided to take you in my little eggsack~ Of course, now that you belong to me, I can’t have you acting and thinking independently, now can I?” She grins wickedly.

Jot squirms in place as Alias glues her hooves down. Even as she speaks, she continues secreting the resin, gluing her forlegs to the floor as well, leaving her stuck in the face down, ass up position. Another dollop applied to the base of her tail leaves it stuck up While this leaves her free to whip or shake it, it puts her puckered backside and now very damp lips on full display. “N-no your majesty?” she offers, squirming as much as her resin bonds would allow.

Alias smiles. “Very good~” Without another word, she brings out two more doses of her resin, and slaps them against Jot’s flanks, making the mare yelp. She shudders as the Queen rubs them in, smearing them over her flanks and covering up every inch of her cutie marks, leaving her looking like a blank flank. Her moaning is muffled as another application of resin is placed over her muzzle, gluing her mouth shut.

Alias leans in to Jot’s ear after she finishes her resin work. “You belong to me now,” she says firmly. “You serve the hive. Your duty is to keep my eggs warm and safe until it’s time for them to be laid~ It usually takes about a week,” she notes with a devious giggle. “Normally this is a very exclusive honour, but during egg season I experience peak fertility, and need more eggsacks than usual.” She licks her lips and leans in to take another whiff of Jot’s arousal, her nethers dripping quite lewdly now.

Jot can only give a muffled whimper as the Queen spells out her fate. Her eyes dart to one of the other eggsacks as she squirms, unable to move, heart pounding, and nethers drenched. She can’t even nod her acknowledgement with her chin glued to her hooves. Unable to turn her head, she has to wait for Alias to trot back around in front of her. The changeling Queen towers over her, and she’s left feeling helpless, reduced to a mere eggsack, a depository waiting for the Queen’s excess eggs.

The answer to a question floating through Jot’s mind is presented to her shortly as the Queen stands before her. From somewhere within her nethers, something emerges. A rather phallic something. Alias gives a shuddering moan as she lets the appendage out of its internal sheath, the rubbery, bulb-tipped ovipositor slithering down between her legs. She gives Jot a moment to admire it before trotting back around and out of sight. Jot flushes furiously as she spies the rather sizeable extrusion.

Unable to see, Jot can only feel as the Queen rears up and plants her forelegs in the middle of her back, bracing herself as something presses against her folds. The rubbery sensation felt a bit like a high end silicon toy, but firmer as it rubs up and down her marehood, wetting itself with her copious juices. She clenches for a moment, but the Queen seems to pay her no mind as she begins to line herself up, the bulbous tip of the ovipositor pressing insistently against her.

Jot gives a gagged squeal as that tip pops inside, her folds spreading to allow the bulb inside before clamping around the neck of it. The Queen gives a shrill, reverberating moan as she presses in against the resistance, Jot grunting and writhing as the thickness of it is driven deeper and deeper into her. Though she cannot see the Queen herself now, she does spy several of the other changelings attending the other eggsacks stopping to watch. Most of them slip a hoof or two between their hind legs, with Jot able to make out that some of them had the anatomy of a mare, others of a stallion, while a couple had both.

The malleability of changeling anatomy is banished from Jot’s thoughts as the ovipositor gives a throb, the tip swelling and pressing against her g-spot for a brief moment as it continues sliding in deeper. She moans into her hooves, though the gagging resin prevents her from biting them or her lip. The process seems endless as the member slides deeper and deeper into her, until finally she feels the tip press against her cervix, at the deepest depth of her intimate canal. She moans as the ovipositor fills every inch of her pussy, shuddering each time it gives a throb.

She gives a muffled gasp and a sharp short through her nose as a new sensation arrives. She can feel the tip of the ovipositor shifting deep inside her. It changes from a single insistent bulb to three spreading points of pleasure deep within, the tip blooming and causing her to thrash against her bonds. The thrashing becomes more violent as the tip latches onto her cervix, gripping it tightly and forcing the deeper entrance open. She can only squeal as her eyes water, the pain of the stretching mixing with the pleasure of that inescapable fullness.

It takes a few agonizing seconds for her to become fully dilated, leaving Jot Note quivering and sweating profusely after those seconds were stretched as much as her insides to her perception. She blushes as she realizes she came during that ordeal, a puddle forming on the cave floor below her marehood as her whole body spasms in place.

The Queen coos and lets out an ‘mmm’ sound as she runs her hooves over Jot’s arching back, making a wet slurping sound as she licks her lips. “I see it was good for you, my little eggsack~ Isn’t it such a pleasure to serve the hive?”

Jot, of course, cannot answer. Before she can even get her thoughts organized into the response she would have given, she feels something press against her folds. It was round, about the size of a lemon, and the insistence with which it presses against her slick nethers is very much like the knot of certain non-equine members. Before Jot can fully recall her memories of that time with the griffon, she squeals into her gag as it stretches her wide before popping in.

Jot spasms in place and drools leaks out the bottom of the resin gagging her as the egg begins to travel into her, propelled by the convulsions of the ovipositor. As it travels down, the Queen moans as it presses the interior of her organ, and every bit of that pressure was applied throughout Jot’s canal. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before as that ‘knot’ of even greater fullness traveled through her, pressing insistently at her depths.

Before Joy can fully recombobulate herself, another pressure appears at her entrance as the Queen begins inserting another egg. She squeals as her eyes roll back into her head as this one pops inside, sending her over the edge again and her innards clamp down around the eggs and her body spasms through another climax. Before she has time to even recover from that burst, another egg presses insistently against her folds.

Joy loses track of time as the oviposition continues. Her nethers grow increasingly tender with each climax, which only makes the subsequent eggs both easier to insert and more pleasurable to receive. By the time the sixth egg pops inside, she had lost count of her actual orgasms, but squeals and spasms all the more violently as a particularly intense one causes her to squirt. The blasts of pleasure become twofold as the first egg reaches her cervix and pops inside, creating a strange sensation, but one that Jot couldn’t distinguish from the pleasure of everything else in her state.

After the sixth, no new eggs are inserted, but Jot continues to feel these strange new sensations as the eggs travel past her cervix and into her womb. As they settle, her belly begins to expand outwards, distending more and more as each egg is deposited into the waiting sack. Her belly grows round and lumpy, just like all the others she had seen before this ordeal began. She barely remembers that though, as it felt like a lifetime ago, her brain scrambled from the overload of pleasurable sensations.

As the last egg reaches her cervix, Jot barely manages to hear a moan from her Queen, followed by a rushing sensation as the changeling’s cum blasts down her ovipositor, pushing the last egg into her womb on a veritable tide of fluids, causing her womb to fill out even more and her belly to balloon outwards, giving her the look of a mare days from birthing. The sloshing sensation coupled with the feeling of the squirt against her innards pushes her over the edge one last time as she cums twice in one go, squirting once again before slumping down, passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. As she begins to drift away from consciousness, she can barely feel the grasping ovipositor closing her cervix, sealing everything deep inside her womb.

Alias slumps atop her eggsack, panting heavily after cumming. Her closing ovipositor dribbles a bit more of her nectar into Jot’s canal as she starts to pull out. There’s a slick pop as she extricates herself from the mare, green juices trickling off the tip of her ovipositor. She shudders as she slowly draws it back inside her body, revelling in the sensation of sheathing the sensitized organ. She cums once again on her own as a result, causing her to stagger back a bit as she catches her breath.

Alias smirks as she sees that Jot has passed out, licking her lips and looking to one of the changelings nearby that had just finished clopping to the display. “Pseudo, be a dear and make sure she’s property hydrated when she comes around,” she notes, going over to get a drink herself.

The changeling gives a bow and scurries off as Alias makes her way back up to her throne, eagerly awaiting Mimic’s return with another pony to make an eggsack out of. She sighs contentedly as she inhales deeply of the lust permeating the chamber, feeding off of it, reinvigorating herself. Egg season always was her favourite month of the year.

A Glass of Aftercare, by Axolu/Sepia (Aftercare)

Author's Note

Written by Axolu (Sepia), the Society's authority on all things latex and cuttlefish, as well as one of CTS' lore developers. I will one day coax her to write a CTS story so be sure to go visit her page and give her a follow to make sure you don't miss it!

Featuring the editing talents of: Pretty Penne, Troublesome Beast

Contains: Aftercare. Lots of it.

A Glass of Aftercare, by Axolu/Sepia (Aftercare)

There, in the center of the finished wooden table, in the middle of the aftercare room, sat a glass of aftercare. The Den Mothers were impeccably fast--they had to have set up the smooth, brown drink in the few minutes between the Mistress mentioning her preference and her arrival with her slave, MS-4191.

Holding her slave under her wing, the Mistress guided the slave to the bed and helped her onto her back, leaning down to kiss her cheek, just to the side of her muzzle, then her other, nudging each of MS-4191’s hooves until they all lay spread. The slave leaned her head up and nuzzled her Mistress’ muzzle, then winced, lowered her hoof, and rubbed tenderly at her own flank, soothing the little stings and welts.

When MS-4191 calmed down and finally let her cringe relax, she closed her eyes and spoke. “Thank you, mistress.”

The Mistress too slid onto the bed, resting herself halfway onto MS-4191 “You’re welcome, slave,” she replied with all the softness of a mother. But there. There was that twitch. Her slave had twitched below her, the same as she always seemed to whenever she called her that. That twitch that was there every time she said something wrong. But the slave said nothing, as always. So the Mistress reached her wing around instead, gently tracing the flat of her feathers—not the tip, tickle torture came next session—along the slave’s side, brushing her fur down in long strokes.

Mistress Shine nestled her head up into her slave’s mane, holding her cheek in her hoof, then kissed her twice, once on the top of her head, then once on the forehead. Another stroke down her side, another down her back, yet another up along the back of her neck while the Mistress’ lips kissed and nipped their way down to her collarbone. After a while, the Mistress slipped off of the bed. She felt her slave shift a little and make a soft grumbling whine into the covers.

“I’m just getting your drink, don’t worry. I’m coming right back.” Even five paces away might feel like miles to her sore, post-scene sub. The Mistress allowed herself a soft smile at the thought. She felt like those ten or fifteen seconds was too long not to be cuddled up to her slave, too.

“No, mistress,” MS-4191 said, “I’ll… I’ll be fine.” The slave grunted once and rubbed her rear again, stretching out. “C’mere.” She waved a hoof.

The mistress looked towards her slave’s waiting hooves and shrugged to herself, slipping away from the glass to rest on the bed by MS-4191 once again. Her hooves slipped under her shoulders and she pulled the slave a little more onto her side. Her slave hissed a little and winced.

“Shh… I’m sorry.” The Mistress’ ears folded back.

“It’s alright.” The slave smiled and slipped her forelegs around her mistress, wincing again and sighing out in pain but holding her tight, close, chest against chest, muzzle up in her mistress’s neck. The mistress giggled a little as her slave’s soft breaths tickled her fur there, and slowly stroked her slave’s back, crest, and withers.

“Good girl.” She cooed, almost like a whisper. “Good slave, MS-4191.” She smiled.

There. Again. The same tension. The way her slave’s forelegs locked up tight and the way she stopped her breath, as if holding it back. The way her tail flicked, the same way every time, the way her hind legs stopped shifting up near her marehood, crossing instead, uncomfortably. The Mistress stopped stroking her slave, and they stayed there for a while. One loose and unmoving, staring out against the far wall, the other tense, breathing just a hint faster.

The Mistress caressed her slave from her bangs to her crest and leaned back to look into her eyes. “What’s wrong, Morning?”

“Nothing, mistress.”

Another pause, but this time they they were only looking at each other.

“Please, Morning. Tell me. Is there something wrong? Is there something I’m doing?” A soft, amused smile slipped onto her muzzle. “I can’t catch you in the throes of pleasure and writhing orgasm while you’re uncomfortable like that.”

Barely a second of silence, and her expression fell.

“Morning?”

The slave sighed and buried her muzzle back into her Mistress’ chest. “That… I don’t know.” She whined into her fluff. “I just… degrade me. I love it when you degrade me.” The slave couldn’t help but blush warmly. “When you write over my body and cover it in markings, when you make me wear that terrible stinging makeup and make me cry it off with how hard you whip me…”

The slave sighed again, tilting her muzzle down. The Mistress stroked only a little, holding a wing over her slave’s side just like a blanket. No sudden movements, no distractions. Instead, the Mistress shifted her body and slipped her hoof up between them, tilting the slave’s muzzle back up to look at her.

“I love it when you do that, and the way you whisper in my ear and call me a pathetic slut, a cumdumpster, a whore for all the cocks. I just love it. I. Just. Love it.” She whimpered, and the Mistress caught the shininess in her eyes before her head turned away.

But then her slave pushed away, sitting up and wincing as she landed on her haunches, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest and shifting her muzzle behind the mane there. The Mistress shifted just a hint forward, but didn’t reach out to touch her, not just yet, as much as she wanted to hold and squeeze and stroke her all over. Not yet.

“But every time you call me ‘slave’, like it’s my name.” The slave bit her lip. “Or, or when you call me ‘MS-4191’.” She whimpered. “I-I don’t like it, m-mistress. I don’t like ha-having my identity, my self taken like th-that.” Her head bowed towards the small darker spots on the covers. “I know you love it, I-I know it’s the whole of, of the society, s-so I didn’t want to stop you, but…”

The Mistress let her head hang, then slipped forwards and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Morning. I’m sorry. I didn’t know, you could have Clockfaced.” That was no excuse for not noticing, she thought. “No, I’m sorry, Morning.”

The Mistress squeezed Morning tight and kissed her right on the brow. Morning tensed, then relaxed into her hooves, but the Mistress wouldn’t let her off like that. She tilted Morning's muzzle up and kissed her lips gently. “I promise I won’t call you ‘slave’ or ‘MS-4191’ again. If I slip, tell me.” She kissed her again, briefly. “Alright?”

Morning sighed in relief, happy only to have shed a few tears, which she wiped on her mistress’ chest and neck. “Alright.” She smiled and kissed her mistress right back. “Thank you, mistress Shine.”

Morning Sleet and Mistress Shine held each other and rested together, in a tangle of sore limbs, strokes, kissing, teases, nibbles, giggles, hoof-holding and hugs.

And the glass of Aftercare sat unused on the table—they had enough of it to fill the room already.

_-_-_

Author’s Note: BUT THEY DRANK LIKE TWENTY GALLONS OF GATORADE AND WATER EACH HAIL HYDRATE

The Joining, by Brasta Septim (Ritualistic Orgies)

Author's Note

By Brasta Septim, who will soon be publishing his own CTS series. Be sure to visit his page and follow him to make sure you don't miss his CTS story when it hits the shelves!

Featuring the Editing Skills of: Pretty Penne, Manifest Harmony, Fuzzy Fabricator, Seraphem, Sepia, Silent Whisper

Contains: Ritualistic Orgies

The Joining, by Brasta Septim (Ritualistic Orgies)

This was it, she knew. Her vigil was almost over.

Amber Bead had observed the rites of the Kindler faith as a visitor many times, but this was the first time she would ever be a participant. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect- well, okay, that was a lie. She knew what to expect, but she was still nervous. Why wouldn’t she be? After all, it wasn’t like she was about to be initiated into the Kindlers through who-knows-what rites.

The pale yellow pegasus had been sitting in this empty chamber, in the stillness and the quiet for hours, staring up at the walls, lit only by the lights of a thousand flickering candles glowing with an unearthly magenta light. It was actually a little frightening at first, being alone in this vast room with no voices, no words but the sound of her own breathing and her heart beating steadily in her chest.

At first, she was tempted to pound on the door and call for one of the others, just to reassure herself there was somepony there watching her. But halfway after getting up to head to the door, she stopped. No, she thought, she had to do this herself. This was meant to be a period of total denial; no music, no talking, no clopping. Just quiet contemplation. So she went back to the soft mat on which she sat, though she still felt anxious. She tried several different positions, before finally simply lying down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. After a while, her heartbeat finally slowed down, her eyes closed for long periods before fluttering back open.

Above her was a vast dome that appeared to be carved out of one large piece of stone, rising as a seamless, unbroken, perfect whole to a point hundreds of feet above her head. Thousands upon thousands of carved faces stared back down from the ceiling at her own, their serene visages giving her some small amount of peace. They were so lifelike, each one of them gazing down with eyes that promised she would get through this, and do so with flying colours. Her forebears, all those who over the tide of the centuries had sworn themselves to the service of the Fire of Devotion, and had been recorded into the very fabric of the chamber itself; a perpetual memory to their legacy, their sacrifices.

Would they approve of her? Amber knew her fellows thought she was worthy enough for this, but would they have thought so? Did she really want to imagine herself being up there one day as well, unmoving eyes fixed on some new initiate preparing to undergo their ordeal...?

She did. She wanted to do this. She was going to do this, no matter what insecurities, what fears slinked out of hiding in the dark corners of her mind. She had agreed to undergo this, and if at any time she wanted it to end, she could simply ring her bell or call out the safeword. She didn’t think she would have to, though. Not now.

Amber closed her eyes, and let the world slow down to a crawl around her, listening to the steady sound of her own breathing.

Untold hours passed steadily, though they may have been years or aeons as far as Amber was aware. It was only when her ears started twitching that her eyes snapped open again. She practically bolted upright, scanning the room several times. Nopony was there, but she could have sworn...

Her ears perked up, and she strained to listen. A... thumping in the distance? No, it was getting more distinct than that. Drums beating in the caverns. Getting closer, too, as if a procession was marching right for the great doors of the chamber. Were her senses failing her, in her tiredness?

She didn’t feel that tired, though. Quite aware, actually. Somepony must have been coming to get her.

Her heart leapt in her chest, equal parts trepidation and giddiness as she rose to her hooves, moving towards the enormous golden door at the far end of the room. This was actually going to happen. The waiting was almost over.

The drums became louder and louder, and with a mighty, almost frightening squeal, the doors slowly swung open. Amber let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, as cool, fresh air rushed over her as if a breeze was blowing through the caverns. The flame of the candles suddenly intensified, painting the entire room in a wash of magenta. The light shimmered and undulated like an evening sunset reflecting off of a pool of water as Amber had to shield her eyes from the brightness. The light dimmed to a comfortable level soon, and the sound of hoofsteps echoed through the stone halls as Amber took the hoof away from her eyes.

She looked up. A face looked down at hers. Reverend Passionate, Abbess of the Order of Firekeepers. Perfect beauty given flesh and blood, at least to somepony who had been alone for the past night. She took in the golden mitre, the flowing white robe, the brilliant chasuble with the heart-shaped flame embroidered and set with glittering jewels. She wore a smile as radiant as the sun itself, gazing at her with barely-repressed pride as she took in her appearance.

There was a moment of silence between them, before she stepped back a foot, as if surveying a painting in a gallery. Amber’s green eyes met Passionate’s golden ones, watching, waiting, until the priestess gave a barely perceptible nod of her head.

She approved. Amber had passed the test. She swallowed, barely able to resist the urge to fly up to the ceiling, her stomach doing loop-de-loops and figure-eights of joy. She cleared her throat, opening her mouth to speak. “Your Reverence, I-”

Reverend Passionate lifted a hoof to Amber’s lips, smiling. “Shh. Your initiation is about to begin.” The priestess produced a small golden chest and set it before her, the top marked with the heart-shaped flame- the seal of the Kindlers. Amber wasn’t sure what to do, looking hesitantly up at the priestess. Her silent question was soon answered as the chest was opened. Inside sat a small round box and a silver chalice, the bowl engraved with words in a flowing, unknown script, and filled with a bubbling pink liquid.

Amber instinctively started to reach down to touch it, but a stern look from the abbess caused her to quickly jerk back her hoof. There was a shift in Passionate’s gaze, the motherly sternness turning into something considerably less chaste. A small, wicked smile flashed across her muzzle as her eyes scanned across the other mare. Amber shivered a little, instinctively lowering her head so that the only thing in her line of sight was the floor tiles.

“Ersteo.”

Amber practically breathed a sigh of relief, the simple Kindlespeak command exactly what she’d been looking for. Without hesitation, she sank down to her mat, her white robe rustling against the tiles as she laid on her belly. She didn’t dare raise her head yet; not until she was given the order. For now, she was content to stay.

A few moments of silence passed, before the abbess cleared her throat, her tone suddenly solemn and businesslike. “Will you be loyal to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of

this Faith? And will you, in accordance with the canons of this Church, obey your abbot, your abbess, and any other clergy who may have authority over you?”

Amber swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry as she prepared to respond. There was no turning back after this, she knew. But then again, she was actually rather okay with that. “I am willing and ready to do so,” She whispered, the sound just barely loud enough for her Abbess to hear.

“Will you swear to serve the Fire from now until you join your Forebears in death? Will you swear to aid, love and serve your fellow brothers and sisters of the Fire, and to offer yourself to them?”

Dear Celestia, was she. She’d been willing to do so for a very long time now, and frankly, she was getting a little impatient. Still, it would be best to save such exuberant outbursts for after her initiation. “I am ready and willing to do so,” she said a little louder this time, her voice charged with a little more confidence.

There was another solemn pause, before she felt herself being pulled upwards, finding herself eye level with the rich fabric of Passionate’s chasuble. Her hooves cradled her head, strong but not forceful, as she spoke the final words in a gentle whisper. “We receive you into our most sacred order, and mark you with the seal of faith, to keep burning the fires of Devotion from now until your life’s end. Oksteo.”

Amber practically shot up from the floor, moving into a kneeling position as she gazed back at her Abbess, her heart brimming with joy as she awaited what would happen next. Passionate chuckled and looking down, slowly lifted the chalice from the golden chest in her magic and guided it to her lips. Amber’s hooves shook as she clutched the base to help her, her lips already parted in the eternal expression of eager communicants. “Aguzleo. Initiate, be Joined to us.”

Starbright. She knew that taste. She knew, as the priestess stepped away from her, that she was going to be in for a lengthy night. Amber gasped a little at the sudden sensation of warmth, utter warmth, like being slowly submerged into a warm bath. Then tingling everywhere. From head to hooves, her every nerve ending felt like it had somepony dancing on it, as her entire body had just suddenly awoken.

No, more than Starbright. The heady glow of Dash was in here, too, feeling a sudden rush of energy through her body. Something else, too. She licked her lips as she caught the faint strawberry taste of Liquid Dovis, subtle but definitely there. Then another sudden wave of warmth gently caressed over her body, though feeling a lot less like sinking into a warm bath and more like a fire glowing inside her and warming her from the inside out.

Every breath she took as she looked around left her feeling more and more excited, the first stirrings of arousal rising, and she hadn’t even been touched yet. More ponies began to step through the doors, all in the same white robes as Amber. They spread out in a circle around her at the very fringes of the room, all of them with eyes locked on hers with curiosity. Amber knew all their faces, their names as she stared back at them. These were the mares and stallions she had studied with for the past several months, living alongside them, worshipping with them, yet not quite one of them. She had always felt like an earth pony trying to grasp the stars; they were always there, but she could never touch them.

No more, she realised. Not after tonight. She would finally be Joined.

Her ears perked up as a low humming began, first on a single note, before the altos joined in a third above, the clarion call of the tenors a third below, the flute-like sopranos soaring to a fifth above, and the basses rumbling at a fifth below. The entire room was filled with harmonies reverberating off the walls, though it was still soft enough to not be overpowering. Slowly, the humming turned to chanting, individual words became distinct, each word repeated over and over and over until she could probably repeat them in her sleep. It was almost like an incantation, designed to subtly enchant newcomers into their clutches. Not that she needed any enchanting- she was more than eager to join them before she had ever got this far. Shudders ran down her spine as the circle of ponies began to move in closer. The drums began once more, rumbling she could feel down to the floor itself, as if it was the very heartbeat of the caverns themselves.

A faint hint of strawberry danced on her tongue once more, and Amber gasped as she was hit with the emotions of everypony around her at once, a collective well of emotion flowing over her like a rolling tide. Some apprehension, but mainly pure, unbridled joy and devotion mixed with lust. Emotions and thoughts not her floated through her head as she caught the gaze of each pony, only stopping as she looked away. This was almost overwhelming to her, her senses and her mind suddenly firing on all cylinders. The smallest sounds, the slightest kiss of a breath of air against her body, was capable of rising her to new heights of bliss, and breathing itself became practically intoxicating.

There was a sudden shift as the others closed in around her, her nose suddenly catching the heady, masculine scent of musk and the lighter, spicier aroma of the mares. It was so hot now, the heat of so many close bodies glistening with sweat, chilled only by the unnatural breeze that blew through the chamber. She shuddered at the first touch, as hooves roved over her body, tentatively at first. Then came the touch of lips on her, some curious and probing, others greedy and possessive, some gentle and loving, but all welcome. Amber gasped as she felt a tongue on the back of her neck, the hot breath of some unknown stallion or mare behind her as they chuckled. Powerful forelegs wrapped around her middle, and after a moment of surprised flailing she found herself pulled down onto her mat, staring up with wide-eyes at the ponies surrounding her.

The white robe she wore was ripped from her as easy as if it were paper, and for a moment she felt, very, very exposed. This worry soon passed, as the others quickly shed their robes as well, casting them aside to reveal themselves in their full, untainted beauty, bare beneath the gaze of mortal onlookers and past forebears alike. Everywhere, she saw a lustful smirk, a stiffening cock slapping loudly against a stallion’s barrel, a slick marehood winking at her invitingly. She didn’t think she could possibly satisfy all of them, but... she would try. Oh, would she try hard.

After all, these were her new brothers and sisters of the Fire. And she had always been a very dutiful little sister.

Before she could make a move of her own, she found herself lifted into the air by forelegs on either side of her, grasping her tightly. Hooves wandered freely down her sides, and she squirmed and spread her legs instinctively as they inched closer to her aching marehood, just begging to be touched. Somepony’s lips were on her throat, her chin tilting up as a trail of wet, hungry kisses were planted teasingly down her trembling chest to her stomach. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she wriggled, unable to move much, but not wanting to either. Then she felt something prodding at her entrance, and she bit back a moan, bracing herself for what she was coming. Her entire body cried out at once for them to do it, her every nerve whimpering in the exquisite agony of unfulfilled desire that she was ready to end.

Then she felt their hips bucking against hers, and her vision went white. By the Fire, this was perfect. Conquering lips captured hers in a passionate, possessive kiss that promised to claim her and not let her go. Another’s lust, another’s yearning snaked through her mind and coiled around her own thoughts, distinct from hers but definitely there, while a warm, very thick cock throbbed and thrusted inside her. It hurt a little at first, to be stretched so much, but it hurt so good. Every slap of their body against hers, every grunt of pleasure, every heated kiss reminded her that she belonged to the Fire now, to them, her brothers and sisters. They were making her one their own, branding the invisible marks of their sacred union deep into her mind with the white-hot iron of pain and pleasure and devotion melded into one, enthralling her, both body and soul.

And yet, she had never felt more free.

Racehorse, by Winter Thorn (Public Use, Really Hot Watersports)

Author's Note

Written by veteran CTS Author Winter Thorn, author of the CTS EQG story Clocktower Terra Nova. Be sure to check out Winter's story and give Winter a follow and lots of ideas for a new CTS story!

Featuring the editing talents of: Silent Whisper

Contains: watersports, piss play, marking, D/s, Dom/sub, BDSM, desperation, Master/slave, griffon, Diamond Dog, unicorn, pegasus, changeling, CTS, explicit, f/m, het, f/f, lesbian.

Racehorse, by Winter Thorn (Public Use, Really Hot Watersports)

Gwen let her eyes drift closed and sighed, interrupting the purr rumbling from her throat. She had her head pillowed on Brute’s thighs, and after a long day at work, feeling his claws card lightly through the feathers behind her ears was the cherry on top of the particular slice of heaven that was the Clocktower.

She had her collar on, but they hadn’t actually done anything yet. Both of them preferred to take some time to get into the right headspace before starting play, and Gwen guessed it was going to be a slow day regardless. She wondered if she could get Brute to gag her. Lazy Saturday evenings were the best when you didn’t have to talk.

All too soon, Brute’s fingers tapped lightly on the back of her skull. “Time to get up, kittybird.”

“Mm.” She didn’t move. Too comfy.

“Kittybird. Up. Got to make water. Couch not my territory.”

“‘m your territory.”

He laughed. “You want to prove it?”

Gwen’s brain finally caught up with her mouth, and she looked up at Brute, suddenly tense. “I. Um.”

He looked down at her. His paw was still on the back of her neck, just above her collar. “Hmm?”

“Don’t you have to...?” she tried weakly.

He sighed. “Kittybird, what is rules?”

“Uh. No secrets, no lies, no hurting myself.”

“Good.” The grip on her neck feathers firmed. “You hiding something. Spill.”

She turned her face into his lap and mumbled something.

“Kittybird,” he warned.

“I... kind of do want that? I wasn’t really thinking when I said it but, um.” She winced preemptively, took a breath, and spit it out. “The thought of you peeing on me really turns me on. I know that’s... gross, um-”

Brute snorted. “Am Diamond Dog. Authority on gross. You not. How come?”

“I don’t know?” Gwen pinched her tongue in the side of her beak, the griffon version of chewing on one’s lip. “I don’t think I can explain it, it’s just.” She arched her back to let Brute slide his free paw under her rump. He did, then inspected the resulting slick fur.

“Hmm.”

Gwen tried to seem relaxed, even though Brute could no doubt hear her heart beating like she was cornered prey.

“Think I want to see this,” he decided. He paused, then added, “Got to move anyway, kittybird. Still not my couch.”

She laughed, more out of sheer relief than anything else, and rolled off his lap onto the ground. He stood and collected her leash from the side table, clipped it to her collar, and took up the slack when she heeled. He scratched the top of her head idly while he thought.

“You want other people to see?”

Her breath caught. “Maybe? Yes? I think so.”

Brute gave her a speculative look. Even for a Diamond Dog, he was tall when he stood upright, and towered over Gwen when she was on all fours. The height difference made it hard for her to decipher his expression, and she shifted her weight in nervous anticipation.

She followed obediently at his signal, wondering where they were going. They’d been in one of the common areas of East’s main concourse, and Gwen had assumed they would head back towards the entrance, to their private suite. Instead, Brute led her deeper into the Clocktower, all the way to the Lower Dungeon gateway.

One of the guardsponies stationed at the threshold looked them over. Gwen gave her golden bell a ring, and the unicorn nodded at Brute and let them by without incident.

Brute stopped in front of the area map and peered at the list of guilds. Gwen felt her tail start flicking back and forth. She was vaguely aware of what guilds operated down here, but only peripherally for most of them. Brute couldn’t seriously be thinking-?

She was too well-trained to question her Master, though, and kept to his side as he walked.

Brute glanced down once they’d branched off the main platform. “Kittybird. Tell me what you like.”

“...Chocolate and wing rubs?”

He swatted her flank. “I’m gonna piss on you. Only if you tell me.”

“I... I really don’t know why, I’m just-”

“What, not why.”

Gwen resettled her wings. Crowns and coins, why was this so hard? She fixed her eyes on the floor in front of her feet. If she had to look at Brute she’d never get a word out.

“I like the... sensation,” she said slowly. “Or I think I do, that’s - that’s what I think about, I’ve, um, never actually. Uh. Being - for - I’m sorry, I know I’m not making sense.”

“Is fine. Has to be true, not sound nice.”

She took a breath. In. Out. Her body was trying to panic. She noticed, and set it aside. Brute wouldn’t ask her to do something hard without a reason, and he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t think she could do it.

“I like, um. A sort of - casual attitude? Like - that’s what I’m for, like some kind of - of public fixture, you know? Like it’s normal, that I’m just there to be-” She had to force the next words out. “-pissed on, give other people some relief. Um. I like the, the sensation - I already said that. Feeling it, like, it’s really happening. I don’t think the smell or taste so much, I’ve never gotten the... drinking it thing. There’s, I can’t decide whether it would be better if the - other person was into it too or if they just didn’t care but wanted to see me react, so I guess I’d like both ways.” She worried at her tongue again, unsure if she’d said too little or too much.

Brute tilted his head to the side. They’d split off the main path several more times, and had just entered a small pavilion with buildings on three sides. The central building was essentially one large room with a back wall and pillars holding up a roof. A pony and a changeling were stationed at a desk on one side. The other buildings had more typical construction, with one labeled “Equipment” and the other blank - presumably private rooms. The pony at the desk saw them and waved cheerily.

“Sit. Stay,” Brute commanded, and walked over to the desk to speak with the people there.

Gwen was left holding her leash in her mouth, ass planted on the floor and eyes darting between every available surface in her field of view. Okay, so this was the watersports guild. She’d suspected their destination back by the map, but she hadn’t wanted to guess wrong. She felt a little bolder just sitting there, less like this was all going to turn out to be a cruel prank. Not that she actually thought it would, but... her racing pulse didn’t know that. Neither did her damp thighs.

Brute returned, carrying a large permanent marker and a piece of cardboard. He took up her leash and led her over to one of the pillars, where he tied her out on one of the convenient anchors. She laid down, now that she had the slack for it and could be pretty sure she wouldn’t have to move.

The floor was cool tile, and slanted ever so slightly towards the nearest open drain, set flush with the floor. It was dry, so either nobody had come by in a while or there was a spell doing cleanup. Likely both, considering the showerheads set at intervals in the far wall.

The cardboard and marker went on the other side of the pillar while Brute got himself a folding chair from the back of the room. He set it up close enough to her that she could reach him to be petted, but far enough away that he was clearly not part of... whatever this was going to be. The poster, he wrote a few words on, before propping it up against the pillar. It was facing the pavilion, which meant Gwen had no idea what it said. She craned her neck. No luck.

Brute caught her cheek with one paw, not ungently. He crouched in front of her and turned her head towards his face, holding her chin steady. “You mine,” he said, and there was just enough of a growl to the words that Gwen shivered. “Mine first.”

“Yours,” Gwen whispered. “Always yours.” And she meant it.

“Made me wait,” Brute said.

Gwen’s mouth went dry. Her tail lashed once before she stilled it. Entirely without her input, her clit throbbed in time with her pulse.

She expected her Master to stand - she wasn’t really sure what she was expecting, if she was honest. This was so far outside of anything she had thought might happen that she didn’t even have a fitting fantasy to hope for, just a wild exhilaration taking up space in her lungs.

He stayed crouching, though, and firmed his grip on her jaw, pulling her head up, not quite far enough that she had to move, but enough that she had to tilt her head and stretch her neck, almost uncomfortably. Her face was level with his chest, and his eyes were locked on hers.

So intent was his stare that Gwen started sharply when she felt liquid impact her chest, and automatically tried to look down. Brute’s paw stopped her.

“Want to see you,” he said roughly.

Gwen gasped and ground her hips down into the floor, though the smooth tile gave her little relief. “Fuck, fuck,” she said. “I didn’t think - please keep talking. Can I see?”

His eyes glinted in amusement. “Pick one, kittybird.”

“Fuck - !” She squeezed her eyes shut. That he was so blase made sense, but to the part of her that found this intensely erotic, his attitude just served to make her even more desperate. “I didn’t - I don’t - can I touch myself-” She shut up. Fuck seeing it, she could hear his piss splattering against her feathers and the floor, feel it soaking the fur on her abdomen, warm and wet.

Barely thinking about it, she shifted and dug one of her heels into her vulva. Sloppy - fuck, she had no traction, didn’t let that stop her from chasing after whatever friction she could.

Brute finished, and then the only sound between them was Gwen’s panting. He pulled her forward without finesse and worked his other paw between her hind legs. She shuddered against his fingers in gratitude, moved her body on sheer instinct, pressed her beak to the outside join of his hip as she came.

Brute moved his paw away - she got sensitive, and it was uncomfortable. “Prettybird,” he murmured.

Gwen caught her breath. She took some of her own weight on her front feet when she was able. “Thank you,” she started, then couldn’t think of anything remotely true enough to tack on to the end of that sentence. “Thank you.”

He shifted to sit, then thought better of it and scooted around so he was on higher ground than Gwen. She snorted a little.

“Still not my thing,” he said. “But you. Like it you look like that.”

Gwen blushed, and felt ridiculous for doing so. She was lying in a puddle of urine, for sun’s sake. The time for embarrassment was long past.

“Think we stay here a while,” Brute said. “Hmm?”

Gwen inhaled sharply and rose up on her toes. Her cunt thought that was a great idea. Gwen was less enthusiastic about the sudden twinge and gush of fluid it produced. She nodded anyway. “Yes, please.” A thought occurred to her. “You wanna fuck me? I bet you could fit, like, twelve dicks in there with how wet I am.”

Brute looked tempted, but said, “Maybe after bath, kittybird.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Read to me?” Brute was by no means illiterate, but had trouble focusing on the small type that was typical of most books. Gwen didn’t get headaches from reading, and loved entertaining her Master that way.

She agreed, and he rose to solicit a book of some sort from the pony and changeling at the desk. She moved to a dry spot, noting that she’d been right about the mild cleaning spell over the place.

He returned with a well-worn copy of, appropriately, one of Heart Song’s non-serial novels. There was a bookmark stuck inside the front cover. Gwen looked it over, glanced at the back cover, then found the first page and cleared her throat.

“Lily Blossom found herself hopelessly lost in the market on her first day in West Halter....”

After an hour or so, it was actually the changeling that approached them next.

“Nah, you don’t have to get up,” he said, waving a hoof. “Just gotta piss, figured I’d come over and see if you were free-use.”

Gwen glanced at Brute, suddenly and desperately hoping the answer was yes. He smirked and took the book from her, marking the page they were on.

The changeling inspected the sign that Gwen had nearly forgotten about. “‘Place to pee,’” he read. “‘Avoid head.’ Well, okay, that seems fair.”

Gwen flushed, and hoped the changeling couldn’t see her red face under her fur.

Brute, on the other hand, caught her expression. “Wrong?”

“...No,” she admitted.

“Cool,” the changeling said, and without further ado braced one of his hind legs on her rump and let go.

Gwen’s reaction was much less dynamic than when Brute had pissed on her, but it was still good for the changeling that he had three other legs to balance on. She shivered, enjoying the impact and the warmth, and the pleasant thrum of arousal it kindled.

Suddenly, she realized no one was holding her head still this time, and that the changeling not only wouldn’t mind if she watched, but would probably appreciate it. So she did.

His head was tipped down, eyes half-lidded in relief and pleasure. He made a low noise in his throat when he noticed her watching.

“It’s - not yellow?” she half-asked, surprised.

The changeling finished pissing and shook himself a little. “Nah. We process it different, so it turns out kinda green like that.”

“Huh,” Gwen said, distantly wondering if she was actually dreaming. This was not how she thought her day was going to go.

On the other paw: best. Dream. Ever.

The changeling backed off her, cock starting to stiffen. Again, he saw her looking. “Cherry Soda’s got a... thing, don’t worry.” He trotted a few steps, then paused to add to Brute, “Pet’s a fuckin’ natural. She’s gorgeous all soaking like that.” He winked at Gwen, then started back over to the desk, where the pony had been watching avidly and was now theatrically licking his lips.

Brute came back over to hand off the book, and mussed the feathers on her forehead while he was at it. “My kittybird,” he said, obviously pleased.

She purred, and found the place where she’d left off.

“‘Lily found herself captivated not by the drake’s words, but by the curl of his tongue as he sp-’ Hmm?”

Brute had nudged her, and now he pointed across the pavilion at two new ponies, a unicorn and the pegasus wearing her collar, white with a prominent purple band and a few miscellaneous badges. The pegasus had the awkward, stiff-legged gait of someone trying incredibly hard to control their body; the unicorn seemed unconcerned but kept smirking when she thought her slave wasn’t looking.

They walked over to the desk and spoke briefly with the pair there. Gwen couldn’t hear them, but felt her heart rate pick up when the changeling pointed over at her. The unicorn nodded and tugged her slave in the right direction - or tried to. The pegasus took one step and immediately pressed her back legs together, shooting the unicorn a desperate look. The unicorn’s horn lit, and the slave relaxed a little, though Gwen couldn’t see what the magic was doing.

Brute had taken the book from her by the time the ponies reached them. The unicorn gave them both an appraising once-over. “I’m Crystal Cut,” she introduced herself to Brute.

“Am Brute,” he said.

“I’m Gwen,” Gwen said, and at the unicorn’s glance, explained, “Master has trouble saying it, I’m not disobeying.”

“Mm,” said Crystal.

“Is my kittybird,” Brute rumbled. Gwen grinned despite herself.

The pegasus jerked suddenly, involuntarily, and whimpered. Crystal looked at her, vaguely amused. “Guess who hasn’t been allowed to relieve herself since this morning?” she commented to Brute and Gwen.

“Gonna guess that one,” Brute drawled.

“Give the stallion a prize!” Crystal said, then caught herself. “Er-”

“What I win?”

“Hmm.” She considered. “Whaddaya say to fucking my slave’s throat?”

Brute laughed and spread his legs. Gwen perked up, interested and not a bit jealous. Her beak meant it was pretty much impossible for her to get her mouth on Brute’s cock safely, much to her disappointment. Seeing someone else do it wasn’t a very good substitute, but she’d take what she could get.

The pegasus hesitated for a moment, shifting her hooves.

Crystal put a hoof to her slave’s cheek. “You suck him off and then ask her nicely, and I won’t make you wait until you lose it and make a mess on the floor.”

She stared at Crystal, then nodded frantically. Crystal released her and gave her a push in Brute’s direction, no longer bothering to hide her grin.

Again, the slave hesitated, probably on seeing Brute’s erect cock and clearly wondering how that would possibly fit in her mouth. He caught her skepticism and laughed again. “Come here.”

He guided her gently between his knees, then pet the corner of her jaw when she took him in her mouth. “Relax.”

She shuddered and dipped her head. Brute groaned and wound his fingers in her mane. She let him move her head where he wanted her, gasping, doing her best to breathe through her nose. At one point she jammed a hoof between her hind legs, not to get herself off but to help control her bladder. Brute saw it, and whether he took pity on her or found it unexpectedly hot, he came with a growl, barely giving the mare time to swallow before pulling her off his cock. Gwen winced in sympathy, but eyed the knot forming at the base of Brute’s cock with interest. She knew from experience he could and would come again if she played with it enough.

The pegasus lay on the floor, legs tucked tightly up under her, unable to move. Gradually, she uncurled, then stood and walked on slow, unsteady legs over to Gwen, who watched the display raptly.

“Please,” the mare begged. “Please, please.”

“Yes, okay-” Gwen said hastily. She wriggled onto her back.

Before the pegasus could move, the unicorn caught her up from behind, standing them both on their hind hooves and forcing her slave to expose her chest and belly. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “You did perfect, you were so good, my little filly, so good for me....”

She stroked the soft, short fur of her slave’s abdomen with a hoof, and that was it for the pegasus, who gave a choked sob and lost control.

Crystal kept hold of her, steadying them both. “Shh, shh, that’s good, you did so well, I’m so proud of you.” Her hoof dipped down between the mare’s legs. Gwen stared as the mare writhed, the flow of urine still going strong even as she ground against what little pressure her Mistress would give her.

“Can you - on my-?” Gwen said, barely thinking. The unicorn was either a mind reader or an extremely good guesser, though, because she moved her hoof so that her slave’s piss hit Gwen’s clit directly. She felt her hips jerk, and had to brace one of her legs on the pillar as she plunged her talons into her cunt, almost violent with the intensity.

“Yes, fuck, yes, mnh! Ah-!” Vaguely, Gwen could guess that she was the one making those noises, but her awareness had narrowed to the ache in her cunt and her clit and her desperate attempts to fill that need and the piss streaking down her thighs and Brute watching her avidly and, and, and!

She came with a cry and actually pushed herself back several inches with the force of it, which was just as well, because she wasn’t exactly up to any kind of coordinated movement. She rocked her head to the side to watch the mare’s stream finally peter out, and nearly as soon as it had, her Mistress shoved her back to all fours and mounted her, grinding against her until she came as well.

All three of them caught their breath a little. The slave had knelt down and gave Gwen a shy smile. She grinned back, at both ponies, too exhausted to come up with anything more substantial than that.

Crystal Cut got herself and her slave up first, and nodded at Brute and Gwen before retreating to one of the showers some distance away.

Brute approached her, then, and tugged her to her feet. She followed blindly, then realized what was going on when he pulled her over to the nearby showerhead and turned on the water, checking the temperature with his paw. She ducked under the water gratefully, closing her eyes in bliss as he redirected it to sluice away the various fluids she was covered in.

She felt his claws on her back and wings, straightening her feathers where she’d lain on them. Times like this, she was glad she could purr. There wasn’t a more fitting sound for how she felt right now.

“You like that,” Brute said quietly.

It wasn’t a question, but Gwen still sighed in contentment, a little dreamy, a little boneless. “Yeah.”

His paw rubbed against her flank. “Hmm,” was all he said, but Gwen knew what he sounded like when he smiled.

Author's Notes: Bonus points if you caught the “Cherry Soda” pun.

Dual Duet Chapter 1 by Troublesome Beast (BDSM, Anthro)

Author's Note

Written by the widely acclaimed Troublesome Beast, the absolute authority on hyperbolic clop and one of Clocktower Society's longest-serving admins. If you like this story be sure to visit his page, check out his other wonderful works in the realms of loving kinky married sex, and follow him for more hyper goodness.

Featuring the editing talents of Axolu and Noble Cause.

Contains: hyper proportions and amazonian mare, casual public sex, dom mutuality, extensive body modification and piercings, oral, light humiliation, moderate caning/strictness, sadism/masochism play on the hard end, bodily constriction, and the use of music as sex or sex as music.

Dual Duet Chapter 1 by Troublesome Beast (BDSM, Anthro)

There were naked tits, naked flanks, and naked genitalia everywhere, and Frosty Quartz had no idea what to do with his hands. The ones that weren't naked might as well have been, and the bar was crowded. Of course, he was still using his hands to hold things, but that didn't seem to stop him from bumping into various ponies. Most of them didn't seem to mind; many of them had actually rubbed softness or hardness, flank or thigh or whatever was in reach, back against him. Until the chill of his skin made them skitter away, again.

That made him more nervous. Which made him cold. Which meant those he touched were feeling chilled. Which meant looks. Which made him more nervous. Yay, he thought. Positive feedback earth magic.

Frosty Quartz, pale-cream hide showing off his shirtless state, was not a very big stallion, as earth ponies went. The citizens of the Crystal Empire had about as many hypers as their southern cousins, but he wasn't one of them. Definitely not at five-foot-eight. He'd been a child when Sombra had come to power, and early work in the mine, coupled with proper nutrition after the Cadance Restoration, meant that he was a lean, fit pony, with gymnast's muscles under his frosty white hide, bluish-white sparkles throwing off his gem-activated skin.

His light blue mane and tail were striped and striped again with frosty streaks of the same color, even when he wasn't feeling Friendship and Devotion course through him. On his tight, dark brown pants, he'd added his cutie mark to the hip pocket: a single, twinkling blue quartz crystal. For all his nervousness and hesitancy, none of it shone in his face. Indeed, the more nervous and cold he radiated, the more his face shifted into a neutral expression, the paler and icier the blue of his eyes.

Frosty juggled the decorative tote bag (picture of Princess Cadance and Prince-Consort Armor tied up to each other) that held his new wrist doohickey (pipsub, he guessed, reminding himself to put it on… somewhere), several pamphlets, and, to what had been his shock, a number of business cards and phone numbers scrawled over pornographic self-portraits. Most with rather graphic offers to help 'break in the new dom-- the fun way!'

He was kind of curious how you tied some of the knots in the pictures. And if… placement mattered. Okay, he admitted, looking at the snack cart slave's picture, That knot on her clit has to matter. And the ones tightening against her nipples. He found shibarni fascinating, and wondered if he'd be able to find a proper model tonight.

For some of the collared mares strutting around, he'd have to ask them to show him how to take it off them first. Of those, more than a few were wearing nothing else but the shibarni and their collar. Red, he reminded himself. Same as your mask. You're looking for red.

It was a little confusing; the part of him raised post-Unification Traditionalist told him he should have asked his mothers for permission to be here, even as an adult. The part of him who listened when Princess Cadance spoke, and could even raise his gaze up to her eyes occasionally, that part told him he was being silly.

If there was something Frosty hated more than his own self-sabotage, it was feeling silly. Especially given the getups some of the other stallions were wearing. He personally didn't think anypony could pull off the posing-pouch-with-a-face-on-it look, but the guy who was swinging it around seemed to enjoy having his sub "kiss" down below, so more power to him.

He kept his new wallet-zot-thingy, his phaser, in his other hand, and got even more embarrassing reactions when he bumped into somepony with that. The mask felt heavy, hot, heating against the cool of his lightly gemming hide. That mask, the one that shouted at everypony what he wanted to be since the first time one of his moms explained the difference between a bossmare and a broodmare, and the difference between herd jobs and herd preferences.

The more he blushed, the more he felt like the red was being transferred from the front to the back. Branding him. He wasn't supposed to be ashamed, he knew. Not for his sexuality anywhere, and certainly not for his kink in the welcoming arms of the Clocktower Society.

"It's just weird, being a stallion and not wanting to be taken care of," and variations on that had been said one too many times. His mothers had called the others busybodies, and smiled at their husband when he was in the room.

His father had just told him to ask his other mothers, and had been-- you guessed it-- embarrassed. Which Frosty had picked up from his father. Crystal pony inheritance: positive feedback loops.

Red mask, blue border; simpler and more distinct than looks and giggles. Mind you, the looks some of the collared mares as they inspected him… Especially the ones with bare breasts and stiffening nipples. After the third time one had gotten close, then backed off, he'd almost pulled the mask off. Why did it feel like it was screaming who he was, and why the hell did that come off as a bad thing, here? Where every princess born or ascended had united behind his empress and her aunts' push to make ponies feel less prudish? How did that work?

"Is it possible to have unofficial cutie marks in 'plaything, Fate's'?" Frosty muttered to himself. When he had been just a foal, his home had been taken over by an evil sorcerer who had drained their hope and made them slaves. When he had been ten, they'd become stuck in stasis and out of phase with reality for more than a thousand years. Things had alternated from there: rescued/reinvaded/threatened/rescued/exploded/fixed, ending with today:

When the best friend he'd yearned over for four years his senior taking him to Ponyville for his pre-eighteenth birthday, and then, on the day, took a dreamy little new-stallion with a longterm fascination with hierarchy and play to a place he didn't believe could exist. Approved of-- Tartarus, run by-- his empress, near to the mares and dragon he had a huge crush on, and full of wonder and mystery.

Then she'd left him. In the indoctrination class, but left him, singing something cheerful about the tentacle pits and "meating somewhere later, right, meat with an a." Thankfully, his instructor had taken a bit of pity on the way out; the older stallion had told him that if he wasn't sure, he might try out the Back Nine, on the Commons.

So Frosty had wandered down. The press of bodies within the Clocktower gave him room. He hoped that was courtesy to a dom overcoming interest in a male, and not his glittering hide making him stand out.

It would have been nice if Emerald Matrix had told him the Fires' presence acted like the Heart.

Eventually, he'd made it to the bar. The light was low, blue, and flattering, hence the constant throw of sparkles from his hide. The place was full, but not packed. The crowd tightened, but only so much that his bumps were more noticeable. Shimmying mares in collars, enthusiastically playing their roles around stallions and mares alike in masks. It was frankly making him wish he had not chosen to dress up in faux-leather pants and no shirt. The pants were getting increasingly tight, all the way down to his right knee.

There were some parts of him that were big, even for an earth pony.

Frosty bellied up to the bar bar, and not just the meat market areas or the cages where cooing subs clustered, danced, and presented.

He remembered the recommendation, on his way out of the class. "It's not really for tallies much, so don't worry about your phaser's 'wallet,'” Longwall had said. His instructor had clarified, "The owners just like watching. A lot. You'll either be near herds just looking for a quiet drink and meal, or with subs looking to join up with a dom." He'd given a knowing grin. "Based on your test results, look for red with ruby crystal studs, dark blue borders, and gold bands. Start easy; get comfortable. Have fun, and keep to consent."

That was what he meant to do. Wait a bit, get a feel for the rhythm of the place, and not just the nice trance house music on in the background. He got his complimentary drink, and was surprised at himself rather nicely. When the bar slave, a tall, broadly grinning hyper earth pony mare with muscles like an army, lovely red skin, twinkling orange eyes and a long green mane had challenged him to provide a spanking in exchange for a sandwich, he'd managed it. Managed it well enough to get the sandwich, another number, and an impromptu applause moment.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard. Confidence filled his heart while the sandwich met the drink going down in his stomach. He turned, leaning the small of his toned back against the bar itself, and surveyed the room.

Curves, curves everywhere. What his instructor hadn't mentioned, but the illusion of a bent-over mare being spanked glowing above the door had made very clear, was that the Back Nine favored those who worshipped pleasure at the altar of ass. And hips. Tops might vary in the audience-- none, making him feel guilty about lowering the room temperature and happy about the view at the same time, bras, ropes, silken ties, and even jackets and shirts-- but every last collar-wearing mare was either naked or wearing assless lower garments of some variety.

Squishy earth pony tush, well fed. Taut pegasus rump, well trained. Quivering unicorn ass, waiting to be used. Spice liberally with about one in for being ridiculously muscular, ridiculously thick, or both, as the hyper ladies put in their bids for below-the-waist attention. Tails flagged or held with rings to better display prime rump, and to display the hints of sex from behind. The occasional hind end shaken at anypony wearing a mask.

Like Frosty.

His confidence failed and he turned around, focusing on his drink. Wishing all the while that one of them would talk to him, not just wriggle. Mind you, he noted, the wriggling's nice, too. So very nice.

Desperate to avoid thinking about his chronic lack of decisiveness, Frosty turned back to the bar, accepted the bar slave's offer to trade another five spanks-- cut down to two when the bartender yelled at her for slacking while she worked-- for a refill. The bartender's smile told him he probably didn't need to trade under the owners' voyeuristic encouragement rules. His balls told him he'd better keep it up, since it was the most action he seemed to be getting tonight.

Besides, hyper ass felt good under his hand.

He nursed the drink quietly, trying to get courage to do something when he wasn't being propositioned directly. To be forceful, to be confident, to go out there and find a compatible slave and get to some negotiating.

That wasn't on the menu, so he let his attention be grabbed by the strangely one-side conversation going on between two mares to his right, at the very corner edge of the bar.

He'd let his gaze go elsewhere before. Not only were they obviously a couple-- adamantite crystal masks, with a little bit of ruby worked in here and there, decorated in rainbow filigrees covering all the types of domination. No border, but they were masks, not collars, so whether or not they were interested in his sex didn't seem to be relevant.

But they were eyecatching. The first was a giant earth pony, a southerner, not a fellow crystal. Huge, though. Eight feet of grey hide over luscious padding that nevertheless betrayed the might of her hyper heritage with slight bulges and peaks whenever she moved. And no matter how slight her shifting in her seat, Frosty had a great view.

Because the only reasons you couldn't call her naked were that she was wearing her mask, a white band with pink bowtie around her neck, and earthpower bracers-- the expensive kind, probably Confectionist-- in the shape of shirt-cuffs and cufflinks.

Oh, and she had a battle-cello's bow in one hand, with the cello itself in the case sitting in the corner nearby. But Frosty wasn't certain that any of that counted as anything other than accessories.

There was a dramatic sweep to the front bangs of her dark grey mane that seemed to follow back around her right temple, tucking behind her ear and running up against the rest of the mane as it traveled down her neck, past her broad, rugged shoulders and-- how far down? He couldn't tell from this angle.

She had remarkably expressive eyes within the confines of her mask. Pride flared in her light purple eyes, pride and a sort of satisfaction that bordered on smug without truly crossing over. The twist of her lips were sardonic, but not cruel, with real humor in them as she spoke softly to her companion. He shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he couldn't help himself.

She was so curvy it made his heart want to stop. Not just her massive O-cups, jiggly and soft-looking but with just enough heft they kept mouth-watering shape. No. As impressive as that all was, she was definitely a part of the Back Nine scene.

Those hips! He couldn't see the ass behind them-- she was turned slightly in his direction, sitting furthest from him-- but the plush of it squooshed out to either side, plumping her hips out and giving her her own cushions. The sweep and curve of hip to abdomen was almost princessly in its sheer excess.

Naked. Yes, naked, but decorated; her hips were distorting her violet treble clef cutie mark in the traditional decoration of all ponies, but she must have decided to use her tallies on herself; she had a pair of carefully made arcs that imitated a cello's f-holes drawn down over the mountains of her hips, following the valley of her sides, and tracing over her hips to point at her cutie mark. A series of lines fell down into her cleavage, over her soft, round belly and pointed at…

Her carefully groomed pubic mound. When her impossibly thick thighs shifted just so to press against the edges of her vulva, it looked like she had, well, a cello's tailpiece.

Frosty mentally praised Pinkie Pie. Hail, Princess of Parties. I have the best seat that isn't her marefriend's. It really was a good view.

The other was all in a soft brown robe. Even her head was covered by cowl out of which only a white muzzle topped by that glittering mask peaked. She had a horn, a unicorn then, but even that was wrapped up in the cowl. Her gaze was purple, but he was pretty sure that was a pair of massive lenses over the eyeholes, glittering with opacity. How did she even see when it was as dim as this?

Definitely female, Frosty knew, though. Or futa, I guess, I can't see in front. Her tail was as concealed by the robe as her mane, and her chest didn't disturb the shapeless robe, but he could definitely make out her hips. They were every bit as broad as her hyper companion's-- and the unicorn was shorter than he was!

Oddly enough, she didn't speak at all. Elegant hands with long, deft fingers gestured and pointed, primarily at the taller earth pony, but with wild exuberance, she seemed to wander their attention everywhere. Expressive, apparently; the earth mare was carrying on the conversation full tilt, with pauses for replies that seemed to mean something.

The hyper mare was stroking the hair of her battle-bow over the plush of her inner thigh, smiling at her partner though she shook her head. Amidst all her expansive curves, all her plush, and all her gorgeous mass, the word that kept striking Frosty's mind was: elegance. Elegant gestures, elegant motion, even elegance in how she teased the sensitive flesh of her own inner thigh as she spoke.

That, too, was elegant. What ponies called Received Pronunciation, marking her as an upper class Bittish mare with a mixture of supreme relaxation and a rich contralto that was wonderful to listen to. "No, V," she said fondly. "I shan't spot you this one. Even if you got them new just for my dual duet." She listened to-- V, was the other mare?-- utter silence for a few moments, then shook her head again. "No, you cannot make it up to me later tonight, either. You would do that any way, dearest, we both know. So it's to be the match, or you are to take the lead. I shall leave it to your discretion; I am more than ready either way."

Silence from the other mare, accompanied by pointing, threatening fingers. The hyper mare just waited serenely, her free hand moving to cup a curve of her plush stomach, stroking just above where the hide darkened for her pubic hair. With a light titter, she added, "I can occupy myself if you need to drive up your courage, my sweet. Whilst you watch."

The cowled unicorn hung her head, then lifted her chin in what Frosty thought had to be a glare behind the mirror lenses of her mask. Her larger partner's grin just widened, and she held out one hand palm up, the other in a fist above it. The unicorn's first noise of the night, a light grunt, followed her hands as she made the same gesture, right on a level with the hyper's.

The slight smile became a serious expression, grave, almost deadly. It struck him as absurd; even a thousand years ago Gem-Parchment-Shears had been a kid's game. And here, two mask-clad dominatrixes were using it to determine something of seeming dire import.

One game to the cowled unicorn; one to the hyper nudist. A gentle smile on the big mare's expressive face paused the third contest. "You could just give up, dearest," she suggested. "Loser picks how, no? It could be fun. I could pleasure you on your turntable at full speed-- like you wanted, last time."

Even Frosty could feel the cowled mare's displeasure at this, sitting behind her.

Their hands shook in the proper style, and fell again. The big mare had thrown Crystal-- or Rock, as they called it here-- to the unicorn's Parchment. To silence, the victory.

Huffing, the huge earth pony put her broad hands on her immeasurably broad hips, and snorted at her companion. "Fine. I shall be the mask, I take it?" she asked, and when the cowled unicorn nodded, the earth pony rolled her eyes. A heavy snort followed. "We are doing the duet then," she said, and prodded the unicorn in her midsection with the battle-bow. "You did bring the right wires this time, yes?"

Frosty wasn't sure how, but eavesdropping as he was, he was starting to get a sense for the cowled unicorn's silent responses. Amusement, then agreement, but to the final question, a sort of shiftiness as her horn glowed. A box faded into her hands, and she shook it at the earth pony.

Who glared. "I recognize that box, V," she said sternly. "Unless you have spontaneously developed harder hide, I am not consenting to blood play." A sense of protest from V was met with the bigger mare's disdain. "It would have been if I had not stopped the scene! You have no sense at all when it comes to damage when you are getting your pain sluttery on. And we both know it."

Still unsure of how he knew, he realized that V was pouting, and that the little trembles were begging the hyper mare to use the thinner wires. The hyper would have none of it. "You picked me to top," she reminded her smaller partner. "So it is the thicker gauge, or a chastity belt, an apology to the owners, and we go home without our set."

Slumping in defeat, V acquiesced, folding the box back into some strange subdimensional space before pulling out another, seemingly identical box. She seemed to hope this was the right one, and apparently it was. The big earth pony smiled beatifically. "You have been paying attention to Princess Pinkie, I see," she said fondly. "Excellent. Open your robes like the whorsish exhibitionist you are; let’s get them fitted."

Frosty found himself craning to try and see exactly what was under the robes, and then turned away quickly to focus on his drink and attempts to get his courage up. Up to proposition mares who were interested in a dom, and not to keep peeping where he wasn't invited. Open area or not, delightfully intriguing comments about exhibitionism or not, he felt that he had basically been shoving his muzzle in where it didn't belong.

Of course, he'd been thinking that about himself everywhere in the Clocktower, even though he'd been told that everypony who was in public was accepting of the kink-- that it was one of the points of the Society. But… he wondered, if that's the case, why is the only mare who's come up to me the bar slave who won't be available for… I dunno. Whenever. Why did Emerald just leave me on my own?

He fumed over his drink for a while, unaware of the growing bubble of space around him. Unaware of the looks that mixed longing and regret before walking away. Not really paying attention to the cold his earthpower was throwing out, or the icy expression he was developing. Wasn't even aware he'd repeated the question, "Why did none of them talk to me?" out loud. He just groaned and planted his head into the bar.

Only for a warm, supple stroke of fingers across his shoulder to bring him out of his self-pitying funk. When he looked towards the source of the disturbance, his vision was full of light grey boob.

Like, everything was grey, squishy, and mouth-watering as far as he could see, except the huge pink nipple, stiff and quivering right at mouth-level. Frosty couldn't speak; he could barely keep his jaw from dropping opening and giving the wrong impression. He was still stunned when the owner of the boob in question answered the question he hadn’t realized he’d asked.

That same Received Pronunciation before, with a hint of gentle humor. "Because you are flooding the herd with tundra sensation, stallion," the bemasked earth mare told him, and tilted his head up so he could look at her, mask to mask. "It's rather attractive-- you're getting the purples and oranges quite moist, I assure you-- but since your mask says otherwise and you are not following up with anypony but Brawna, they're giving you quite the berth."

Frosty stammered a bit, and she shook her head. "You have just started your ley training?" she asked. "Crystal traditions?" When he shrugged, pulling his chin from her hand with a nod, she continued. "A cutie mark in gemology, if the rather nice accent where those lovely trousers hug your tush matches?"

He blushed, and nodded again. "Yes, to all three," he replied, and damped the cold around him. "I do crystalline structure and work on A/C units with the earthpower side. What does that have to do with herd sense, though?"

She smiled, and moved closer. Any lingering cold was displaced by the warmth of her curves, her massive body almost touching him-- his head almost into her cleavage. "Adorable," she said with another soft laugh. "Your magic is symbolic, and doubly tied to your northern home.”

The big mare shrugged. “It’s not too complicated,” she reassured him. “You seem to be obsessing a bit; socially, even. Your heritage is reacting, my dear, and you're making everypony around you see you like a frostbound mountain, dominating the countryside and unapproachable save for the bravest."

She licked her lips and added, "Like I said, scrumptious. But a bit intimidating coming from somepony new."

Frosty felt his face start to match his mask's color. "Oh, Sombra's mines," he cursed, and grounded. "Yeah, 'new.' New adult, new member of the Society, new everything." He covered his mask with his hands. "I'm sorry. About the cold stuff, and eavesdropping." The apology and admission blurted out before he could control it, wanting to clear the air almost instinctively.

When he drew his hands back from his face, the serenity of her smile had become quite salacious. "My dear," she told him, "We were quite aware. Vinyl bet me two climaxes you would join us. A win is a win, I suppose. But…” She paused, salaciousness became almost predatorial interest. “Did you say you were new to the Society?"

Stammers were his only reply to the comment, but he focused on the question instead. "It's my eighteenth birthday. I've seen-- touched!-- more mareflesh in the past couple hours than I've had the opportunity to ever. And that includes my uncles' hand-me-down porn stash!"

The huge melons bobbed and bounced in front of his face as the grey mare's breathing grew shallow, and she licked her lips again before placing her hands gently on his shoulders. "Sorry to be so... blunt," she said, looking absolutely not sorry at all, "Not just virginal to the Society, but to the whole parade?” One hand raised, she indicated the sweep of activities within the Back Nine.

Some of which Frosty wasn’t sure he would ever have the sheer flexibility to perform, but that was beside the point.

Her questions elicited a heat he hadn't experienced since the last time he'd been to the Lava Forges. His blush was in plain view across his athletic body, spreading from cheeks to neck to the shoulders under the eight foot tall mare's hands. Calming himself, tapping into some of his cold again, he shrugged a bit. "Yeah?"

“Mmmhmm,” the huge earth pony hummed quietly. Frosty felt her fingertips run along his shoulders; saw her nipples get so stiff they almost blinded him. She shifted slightly, tilting her head and biting her lip. “How familiar are you with luck-rituals?”

The seeming non-sequitur left him confused. More confused. “Er-- not really?” he said cautiously. “Do you mean like-- before a performance?”

“Indeed.” She sucked slowly on her lower lip, chewing it. “I know it is a bit of an imposition. And no one likes to be thought of as new meat…” She laughed softly. “How would you like being seasoned? Indulging a pair of mares their fancy and their methods?” She stroked a finger along the side of his mask. “Mostly vanilla, and absolutely respecting this else?”

Frosty frowned. He wanted to. If he was picking up on her right, she was offering to do something with him, here, now. That’s what he was looking for, right?

But… his own hesitation flared up again. Wishing that the course had included a little more oomph, he dithered.

The stately mare above him either mistook shyness for indecision, or enjoyed putting on a show. "Vinyl," snapped the earth pony, "Beg. Now."

He felt her first, naked hide brushing against his right oblique as she squirmed under his arm. V-- Vinyl-- was naked now, completely; but in many ways, she was more clothed than he. His sense of touch said 'metal' before he heard the soft jingle, and the white-hided unicorn mare was suddenly at his feet.

She was begging. No sound other than the metallic jingles following her movement, but he knew she was begging him to accept-- some offer?-- from the hyper mare. He stared at Vinyl instead, the name teasing at the back of his head. He didn't get it at first, but then again, it wasn't every day that a mare wearing less clothes but more material than you knelt at your feet and offered her body. In exchange for an offer they hadn't actually made yet, and he didn't care.

She had-- not an hourglass shape, but a bottle's. Not because of any fat; lushness was her partner's province. She was every bit as fit as Frosty was, and he could see it so well, but her hips held every promise that had displaced the vanished robe and more. Literally as wide as the hips belonging to the mare two and a half feet bigger than she, they were toned and curved out to form a huge teardrop shaped ass that she was currently resting on the heels of her feet, while her toes kept her in place.

With her thighs wide open and wet sex in plain view, her lovely C-cup tits thrust up towards his face, and a panting silence keeping her muzzle open. Instead of her mask, she had on a collar now, done in the same style and colors, but she was still wearing eyepieces, a pair of broad shades, the lenses glittering purple, angled almond shapes.

They should have told him exactly which Vinyl was currently flashing her pink at him, but he was too shocked by the appearance of what was hidden beneath her robes now. It later occurred to him that they would also be hidden beneath those white bodysuits in her shows.

Piercings everywhere. Piercings, and body modifications so bizarre they transcended a mere "pierce" and were closer to thauma-fantasy implantations. Her nipples were pierced with little jingly chimes on chains around horizontal bar studs, but her breasts were circled with an orbit of rings in the flesh about halfway from base to nipple. On the top of each tit was a shiny plate in her skin, matching one across the breastbone.

Frosty couldn't tell what metal it was, but he could feel odd little twinkling crystals resonate in the plates from where he was standing above her. They weren't the only implants of the same materials. Strange S and old-style F curves of it were everywhere over her body-- all her limbs, her belly, her breasts, everywhere below the neck or wrists, many outlined in abstract art tattoos.

Little rings and hoops attached to studs where anchored in her hide from just below the shoulder, down her biceps and triceps both, skipping the elbow but outlining a broad, flattish parabola implanted at either end of each bicep, and then picking off decorated over her forearms. Every ring and almost every hoop had little metal chimes on them. Her hands weren't pierced, but she had rings with dangling chains and chimes over each finger and her thumb.

Frosty wondered why chimes, and not bells, and then remembered the tail code. He was abruptly very interested in Vinyl's ass. For research purposes. Really.

The same decoration went downward, too. Her navel was filled with a little grey quartz outlined in steel that poked out through the belly flesh up, down, and left with little balls on the ends of the anchoring piercings. More of the hiderings followed down her side, carefully placed around her muscles, and highlighting another dish-like implant just above her completely shaved pubic mound. Her hair-bared hide had a tattoo of her earth mare's cutie mark, which seemed a little redundant, given that her clittoral hood was pierced and holding up a little glyph of the same. Symmetrical rings followed over her labia, and lightly jingled against the piercings and implants on her thighs mirroring those of her upper arms, just as her calves were to her forearms.

Other tattoos followed in whorls and sine curves around the lines of rings and chimes, but they weren't the only connection. Thick gauge wire spiderwebbed over her body, pressed close to her hide as they threaded from ring to ring, loop to loop, and followed every motion of her toned form. There were two primary sets-- the wires following the shape of her body, and another set, anchored over the bar-dish above her sex, tied tight to that, but extending above and below. Below, the carefully spaced wires ran to each of her labial piercings and her clit-mark. Above, they made crisp lanes travelling from belly to her breasts, where they formed what looked like nothing but a two-necked string instrument with the scroll and neck replaced by her boobs and anchored on each nipple piercing.

Needless to say, Frosty's dick nearly ripped its way out of his cocksleeve and past his fauxleather trousers, much to the approving expression of both mares. "What-- I-- why?" he babbled. "What… what are you asking?"

The hyper mare loomed across him, huge jugs drooping slightly as she angled to look him nose to nose in the face. More tightness. "Oh dear," she groaned, breath hot. "Forgot to detail, did I?" She stroked his mask gently along the border and smiled. "Vinyl and I like to find an inexperienced dom before we perform somewhere new and give her-- or him-- a lovely time. The ritual, you see."

Inexperience traded for familiarity. It made sense, in a crazy, letters-to-Stableloft sort of way.

Those huge melons surrounded Vinyl's head and horn as the big mare leaned closer, her lips an inch from his ear. "Only gave you half an introduction, too,” she said with an apologetic tone. He flicked an ear close and smiled at her; she had so much presence that he found it hard to resent her familiarity.

Rather the opposite, in fact; the kiss she gave his ear made his pants strain in response. “Call me Octavia, please,” she breathed after. “The luck is better the larger the hurdle would overcome.” She shrugged. “Let me be honest as well: it’s fun helping someone debut. Not to mention you, yourself, and your tight pants. So stern, so grim… So well-fitted. If you get over your shyness, you shall cut quite the swathe, I think."

Vinyl agreed, especially when Octavia added, "Therefore, we should rather like to give you your test run-- and let you be our tip."

"Your tip?" Frosty asked, confused. "I'm Frosty Quartz," he added, nonplussed. Then Vinyl made air kisses from the bulge-tip of his sleeved cock, just above his knee, along the length of the stiffening shaft, up to his waist, then over to nose at his phaser.

Octavia chuckled. "We don't like to take tips on stage," she explained. "It interferes with the dance. Your phaser is your wallet for now?” When he nodded, she smiled again. “Invest in us,” she urged, then indicated her partner. “DJ can help. Call it a repayment for your participation out of the blue.”

When he nodded slowly, she winked and went on. “So, if you are willing to invest a single tally for her, we will pay back tenfold on your sub when you get one. Honest to the flame," she said, holding up one hand and placing the other deep in her cleavage.

Frosty figured he could trust that. And while he didn't have much to lose in his little phaser, he didn't have much to, well, lose. He looked up at Octavia, then down at Vinyl. Well, at Octavia's breasts covering Vinyl's head. The big grey mare pulled back slowly, her lush body jiggling, when his jaw dropped.

It was seeing Vinyl's shades that did it, emerging from the delectable confines of Octavia's cleavage. He cursed himself mentally for not realizing earlier, and then couldn't say anything.

The unicorn mare's muzzle turned into a smug grin that he knew was more for Octavia than for him. She had won back a few climax turns on her bet that it would take him a while to fancolt out.

He was too stunned to try to think about how he was understanding her when she wasn't speaking. Too much of him focused on the moment. "Wait," he whispered hoarsely. "You're that Octavia? Octavia Melody?" The lush hyper mare just demurely planted the back of her right hand on her left breast, and bowed a bit. Jiggle, jiggle, smack, her breasts battered around Vinyl's head.

She didn't mind, it seemed. At least, she seemed pleased when his attention turned back to her and he swallowed heavily, saying, "And… Vinyl Scratch?" He wasn't sure if he could, but she made it somehow clear that she would prefer he didn't faint. To draw his attention to the now, she jingled softly, chimes playing and wires pressing against her hide. Finger-chimes somehow leading and altering the quality of the sound from the rest of her, she traced her fingertips around her collar, then her throat, to her lips.

Vinyl kissed her fingertips, and smiled at him, offering to autograph later. When he had a sub of his own for her to autograph, perhaps? She arched her back at him, showing off all the tallies and lashes and brands that had been added to line her tattoos. They were everywhere.

He looked up at Octavia, who smirked, answering his questions, asked and unasked. "Vinyl likes wearing them more.” She shrugged. “Yes, we are that Octavia and that Vinyl. I hope that is not cause for performance issues below the belt?"

It was not. He grunted, stammered, and amused the two mares for a bit before saying, "N-no, not really. In fact, it's getting hard to contain."

Another purr made Octavia's massive body jiggle even further, from delicious mega-breasts to even more lickable ultra-hips and down along thunderstorm thighs. Her toes were even curling. "Then let us begin," she rumbled at him, "Let my slave assist in that."

He hesitated. She was offering not just to have Vinyl remove his pants, but his virginity. Which was part of why he was here, but in public?

You came in here without a shirt, the calm part of him reminded him. You wouldn't be the first fucking in public right now, either. Yeah, these are the two mares who make up the majority of your record collection. So impress them, doofus.

Suddenly, Frosty grinned. "Sure, on one condition," he said, staring up at Octavia's intrigued face. Her mask shifted slightly, as though she was raising an eyebrow. "I want the best seat in the house while she's doing whatever." And just as she had touched him, he got over his internal taboo and stroked the light grey of her bobbly-strong thigh.

Vinyl clapped and Octavia grinned. "See?" the big hyper asked. "Better already. Well played, stallion. Now, for that investment…"

He pulled out the phaser and looked over the kneeling mare. "I don't want to mar the work," he admitted. "You're beautiful, Vinyl." She grinned at him, pleased, but confused him when she silently opened her mouth and extended her tongue. Pierced-- a ring at the front and a barbell, too-- but there was something odd, and he didn't quite understand what she was getting at, so he looked to Octavia for interpretation again.

Panting heavily, openly fingering her clit while she watched Vinyl show herself off for Frosty, Octavia licked her lips and squirmed a bit before answering with a question. "How extreme are you prepared to be out of the gate, Frosty?"

He smiled faintly. "I can tap that cool you talked about for courage, I guess," he replied. "And if I'm making a horny little whorse happy, it's practically a good deed, right?"

A loud groan escaped Octavia's chest. "Two horny whorses, Frosty, I assure you," she moaned at him. "One does like seeing one's slave properly used." While Vinyl waited patiently, mouth open, Octavia explained, "She wants to suck you off for our starter; hence, she wants you to tally her tongue."

"Her tongue?" Frosty asked, hating the crack in his voice.

"Her tongue, indeed," groaned Octavia. "She is not some mere exhibitionist. She is quite the masochist-- well, I am a masochist, when I wear the collar and not the mask. That is far too kind of a word, is it not, my love?"

A wordless, half-muted whimper rose from Vinyl, who closed her mouth and nodded vigorously. She mouthed two words slowly, distorting them lightly to make kiss-like motions towards Frosty's bound dick.

Two words: Pain. Slut. He could almost feel them, somehow, and wondered why she never spoke. It wasn't as immediate a concern though, and it didn't seem unusual. Not given her body mods.

Vinyl settled back on her flank, hands palm up on her thighs as she presented to him. Not just the pink wetness of her well-pierced pussy, but her tongue, rigid and straight as she could, the breadth of it pointed right up at him while the tongue dipped slightly.

In preparation to lick something.

Your dick, idiot, he told himself. Get on with it!

Octavia was moaning loud enough for both of them, and Frosty still wasn't sure why the rest of the bar wasn't watching this amazing display. She was leaning over him and Vinyl from a slightly larger distance, her hands still on his shoulders. Well, mostly. She was openly fondling the taut, gymnast's strength in his sparkly white hide, tracing the invisible bodyley energy and caressing the sensitive spots it revealed to her. Her hands wandered down from his shoulders to do so, petting and stroking his biceps hungrily while her breasts swayed in his face.

Some of his indecision must have shown in his face. Octavia moaned, "Do it, young sir. She wants it so. Spark the little cunt's tongue good and hard, then we can give you your proper seat, and proper deflowering."

He'd been exposed to each level in training; you had to, to know what you were doing, and to charge your phaser's mini-wallet. So you never lost control and never broke the sub's consent. He charged the phaser carefully, and stroked the tally over Vinyl's tongue. A flash; the spark leapt from toy to outstretched offering, then burnt a line along the proferred tongue. It had to hurt. It had to; she had asked, and so he had selected pushed the jolt to the edge of what he'd feel comfortable with personally, like the sting of some lingering, wild berry your mothers told you to avoid. With a hint of the bramble, too.

Nevertheless, not a word. No scream, either; her tongue didn't even move.

Her fingers did, accompanied by the jingle of her piercing chimes. Vinyl was actually stroking her clit rapidly as the line went along, only to edge herself and stop the moment he was done. A wordless squeal of happiness was on the unicorn mare's face as she… as she…

Is she snuggling my dick? he wondered, and looked down, blinking. Before he could think of what to say, Octavia lashed out with her battle bow, using the reinforced back to cane Vinyl's super-broad ass across the top. Thrice. Still no cries, and if anything, Vinyl looked more turned on than ever, the flush of arousal spreading almost as fast as her marejuices could gush below.

"None of that, slattern," Octavia said. "My apologies, my dear. She is quite the greedy bitch. To work with you, DJ! Finish disrobing our guest, and then await your duty. You have the payment you want-- and need."

So it seemed. Frosty was prepared to help her with his pants, but the pout on unicorn and earth pony muzzles alike stilled his hands, which was enough to let Octavia make her next move. She took his wrists, and guided his hands up to her enormous O-cups. "Squeeze, stallion," she breathed.

Winking behind her mask, Octavia purred, "Equals may enjoy each other while the riff-raff serves." Her deep gaze flared, and she leaned in close, almost nose to nose. He could feel her breath, hot with whatever charge she was getting from the deflowering, blow across his muzzle. “Besides. Winning our contest does not mean she gets to hog the pretty stud.” She had taken the first steps-- and then some.

Briefly, he did feel ashamed. Not of how open this all was. Not here, not any more. No; even the traditionalist in his raising told him: the mare’s made the first move. Give her what you both want.

So Frosty kissed Octavia. Shyly of course, knowing he had no technique, so he followed her lead. He let her suck his tongue past her teeth, fumbled when she wrestled with it briefly, and smiled when she broke the kiss and nodded down to point his attention at Vinyl. His fingers, trembling, slightly cool with his magic, rubbed and squeezed through the grey-hided titflesh as he watched the enthusiastic unicorn below.

Vinyl didn't use her hands at all. She kissed and sucked along the faux-leather, noiseless in her self but the theme of her piercechimes played on. He groaned, fingers tensing on Octavia's massive melons when Vinyl ran her tongue piercings along the outline of his throbbing cock, then peaked her tonguering under the snap to his trousers.

He had no idea how she managed it, but she popped the snap clean off between the ring and the barbell. Octavia, cheeks flushing a horny red, kissed the side of his head just below his ear and whispered, "You should see what she can do with a bottlecap. But what she does for you..."

Given how agile Vinyl was with tonguetip and piercings, he was certainly looking forward to the latter. She easily got the flap parted and pulled down his zipper without ever using her teeth. Nosing and nuzzling in silent happiness, she pulled his trousers free, and then down.

Having the Vinyl Scratch literally suck on his big toes after each stepped out of his trousers made him gasp, one of the clasps of his cocksleeve undoing itself from the pressure of his erectile throb. Both mares growled, predatory and silent, hungry.

The moment passed, and Vinyl dove for the tip of his cocksleeve, nuzzling and sucking on it like she expected to get him to cum straight through it. But Frosty didn't want that; and he did want control. So, watching Octavia's approval, he took charge, grabbing Vinyl's horn at the base and pulling her back.

She made a near-audible mewl of protest at that, and looked up at him, pouting. He pulled on more of the coolness, relying on the symbology Octavia had mentioned. Voice as cold as his eyes, he said, "Either get me the rest of the way out, or stop fooling around, Vinyl. DJ," he corrected himself, DJ-PON3 on her collar.

Octavia loomed backwards, looking regretful as she pulled her fingers from his grip, but smiling nonetheless. "Good show," she told him. "Let me prepare your throne while DJ finishes her work." Pulling her own reinforced seat over, she sat down carefully on the bar stool, the thick padding of her gorgeous assfat oozing over the sides of a seat meant to hold even eight foot stunners like her. So thick.

Daintily, she crossed her feet at the ankles, as controlled as a duchess waiting on the attendance of her warmares. Her immense thighs, muscle and plush together in the first place, squeezed and rubbed together, and she let out a cooing sigh as the plumpness of her labia was petted by her own thickness. She leaned back slightly, as though her O-cups weighed nothing, and simply held the position, her eyes sparkling behind her mask. "Do finish, DJ," she ordered. "The young stud deserves a high seat, and my tits deserve some nervous stallion earflicking."

The look she gave him didn't spark now. It was on fire. Frosty didn't exactly know how he had gotten to the point where a submissive Vinyl Scratch was worshipfully lipping his cocksleeve open, and Octavia Melody called him her 'equal' behind a mask of her own. While offering to hold him in her lap, just like he'd required, resting his head on a hundred pounds of succulent, soft, gorgeous titflesh. To guide him through the moment with Vinyl.

When the meaty heft of his cock flung free, Vinyl earned her massive ass another caning when she not only caught the splurt of precum his poor, stiff super-shaft flung free when it escaped; she prenched the tip in gratitude for the taste.

She scooted back, pouting, as Octavia groaned and bit her lip. "My dear," she told Frosty. "A grower and a shower. Congratulations. Now please, do come sit, so Vinyl can prepare you for properly owning her throat." A thin smile passed on her face as she fanned her need-warmed tits. "Or at least renting, though I think you shall be welcome on more than just this night between us. Lease, perhaps."

Grower and shower indeed. Soft, Frosty's huge tool was as much of an inconvenience as a pride; his fat flare bobbed down to between his knees. The sleeve was a custom job, and he was vaguely glad to see Vinyl neatly folding it on top of his trousers while he got his balance again.

He always felt a bit dizzy when all thirty inches of length and six inches of girth came out to play. Theoretically, it wasn't strictly biology, but magic, even for a non-hyper, but he still felt like all the blood was rushing out below. Shuddering, he regained his balance, making both mares softly grunt when he reached down to adjust the pulsing, swelling heft of his enormous balls.

"Please," whispered Octavia again. "Sit. I want to see you turn her throat into your condom!" She fanned her exquisite chest more, still holding the lean back. "I cannot recall that much dick on even my last hyper stud."

The compliment was enough to make his whole prick bob forth, smearing a slick wave of precum over Vinyl’s hungry tongue.

She wasn’t punished this time until she pouted at Octavia in disappointment.

Frosty ran his fingers through his mane, swallowed heavily himself, and walked over towards Octavia's exquisitely lush lap. He planted a hand on the lewd plush of her thigh, squeezing slowly. The fat surface was lovely, of course, but he could feel a hyper mare's strength within. Incredible. She bit her lip again, and scooped a hand up under his rump.

It felt good, an almost tremblingly hesitant caress as she stroked him and he nodded. "Up we go, my lady." Gratefully, she pulled him up into her lap.

And turned him around just fast enough to slap Vinyl full across the face with his plump prick, knocking her lover down on the floor. He turned his head up to face Octavia, tilting his head against the soft-perky support of her breasts.

Her muzzle pinked under the grey. "Cheeky bint prenched you without orders," the big mare huffed. “She needs to know her place before a dominant dick.” The big mare stroked an inquisitive finger over the broad base of his obscene masculinity. “Mmm. Such a lovely example of the genre, too. You are an excellent object lesson, my dear."

Laughing, while Vinyl righted herself and knelt before them both, Frosty reached up to stroke Octavia's muzzle. "I'm going to guess this isn't just a good luck ritual, and you enjoy showing off how well trained she is-- or isn't," he told her.

Octavia kissed the top of his mane, and cuddled the mass of her giant breasts close to him. "Too right, not-so-little stud," she purred at him. "I also like watching her get her anus wrecked and her pussy plowed when we find a good periodic partner. Shall we begin your audition?"

It began wonderfully. Tenderly, even, with hot little pulses of pleasure along the broad, flat tip of his prick, loving, even worshipful kisses from the silent Scratch. Not that he was doing much to start other than giving Vinyl permission to begin, and sitting back against Octavia. The bigger mare didn't just hold him, she reached down to fondle his well-shaped abs, to caress his taut pecs, and generally make a very pleasurable series of caresses.

Then she reached further down, and started to stroke the thick-hided, musky surface of his balls as Vinyl's renewed prenching made them swell. "Take it easy at first," she advised. "DJ is a natural slut.” His needy cock responded, bobbing up to “kiss” Vinyl’s face with another fresh splatter of lube that smeared across her shades.

Vinyl twisted lightly, rubbing the smooth, slightly cool surface of the lenses across the wide left of his shaft for the first clean, before a brief hornflare cleaned the rest. Her fingers came up now, kneading and squeezing his precum into the girthy meat and veiny skin. The sensation was amazing; there was simply something so different about a worshipful sub’s hands, as opposed to his own while thinking about having…

Well, Frosty admitted, About having her, though I didn’t even dream about the piercing. Or having Octavia’s enormous breasts for back support and a headrest.

Octavia grunted, and he could scent more of her arousal threading with his and Vinyl’s. She shifted her hips in her seat, grinding the thick padding of her thighs and the neat tuft of her pubic mound against his tail and tush. The big mare was incredibly turned on, and not just by the feeble efforts of his flicking ears.

No, it was clear that this was a favored sport for her, and Frosty wasn’t sure whether she’d gotten into it because of fun during the rituals, or had looked up the old druid manuals for another way to play voyeur and dom both. He didn’t know, and didn’t really care. As training wheels went, these had supreme benefits.

Still panting, still thrusting her hips back and forth as though she was in his lap and Vinyl had to watch, Octavia continued the instruction. With a soft groan, she told him, “Keep correcting her when you wish, of course; you have paid in.” She kissed her way hungrily along the line of his neck, watching and feeling her way across him.

Vinyl’s eyes were invisible, but somehow he knew she was staring up at Octavia above him. He considered it, and felt like-- a vessel. Octavia was letting him have his head here, but also using him as the instrument of her domination upon Vinyl.

They said I’d have to practice with a mentor, he thought. I wonder if this counts as work study. He definitely didn’t mind, either way; having Octavia wield him wasn’t exactly his best-dom-ever fantasy but it was… easier. Certainly, she provided a sort of emotional strength to get over his own hesitance, and the feel of all that plush strength, of her massive O-cup breastflesh oozing against his back and shoulders and head as she rubbed her chest up and down on him…

Right, she was still speaking. Octavia seemed to notice that he’d been distracted, and giggled a bit. A little high for such a deep-voiced mare, but there you were. She switched to the other side of his head and kissed his cheek before saying, “But I do note that I have always seen too much punishment be a sign of, mm, either weakness or trigger happiness in a dom, and I hope you already know that mares prefer stallions with fortitude."

Vinyl appeared to like both the idea of being lead, loosely or not, and a stallion with fortitude as well. She teased at his inexperienced self-restraint, pepper those cock-loving smooches faster and faster. Treated the musky breadth of his shaft like it was Octavia's face, loving her after coming home from a concert. He nearly lost it; indeed, precum flooded over Vinyl's pierced tongue and into her greedy mouth. He groaned, Vinyl's tonguetip licking skillfully up and down in his cumslit in between silent, smacking kisses. "It's my first time, Octavia!"

No mercy below, as Vinyl pushed her lips against him. He had enough hyper in him that she would stretch, thank the Earth, and sex ed class had covered the right charms. Still, the raw suction as she sealed her lips over his flare and started to distend her jaw sent shockwaves up and down his shaft and pulsing up his spine, straight to his brain. "We know, stud, we know," Octavia promised, and flexed her chest, rubbing her soft mammaries against his head, and, yes, flicking ears. "But a good showing can get you all sorts of next times..."Octavia ducked her muzzle down over the mounds of her huge tits, and nibbled lightly on one of those flicking ears. "To elaborate,” she said while she slowly rocked him in her lap, following the same commands his hands were giving Vinyl’s ears for fast or slow. “We have been known to take both submissive or both dominant roles, if we have someone to make up the slack."

Splurt. He splashed his lube in Vinyl’s greedy, sucking mouth. Octavia tittered lightly, tits bouncing wonderfully against his ears again. "To tailor our private performances to the audience. Vinyl Scratch using sonic vibration to stimulate a sub-stud's prostate whilst Octavia Melody treats his back to the battle-bow, that sort of thing."

The idea didn't hold much promise for him, but the next… She heaved the glorious expanse of her chest again and licked his ear from tip to base. "For you, mmm, DJ-PON3 and OM-8642 worshipping that toned little stud body with their tongues, begging you, hanging on your every word…" She shuddered, shifting her thighs to better squeeze her own sex. Then she added, "Letting you practice temperature play on their tits, yes?"

Temperature play. Had she guessed his dreams? Or just made a wild shot based on his cutie mark?

The groan that shuddered from Frosty and sent precum flooding once again over Vinyl's tongue wasn't just the results of the pleasurable submission she gave his fat tool, no. He wouldn't deny that she was using his sensitive flare's responses and her prehensile upper lip to focus his sensation there, right at the very tip like she was masturbating and blowing him both, but the promises Octavia whispered in his ears if he could just hold on and impress them…

It did make it harder to hold on.

So he held onto Vinyl's ears-- sternly, since she liked it-- tugging firmly to pull her forward. A rumble of approval came from behind him, squeezing those monumental Melody melons against his head and back. Panting, cock twitching and legs tensing, his precum spewing into Vinyl's throat, he nearly lost it again when his flare finally stretched her throat out… and she started to hum.

"Swab the little cunt," Octavia encouraged, lovingly toying her thick fingers over his increasingly heavy nuts. "Swab her good and hard and deep, yes." He could smell both mares' musk thickening, feel every breath from both. Not just the hot puffs on his neck from Octavia, either, but heaving rubs of her heavyset chest against his back were a wonderful counterpoint to Vinyl's short snorts across the throbbing surface of his shaft.

"I can't hold…" He groaned. This was all so new, so intense-- he hadn't even pulled Vinyl over his medial ring yet! He wanted more…

Wait, a random thought called out. Octavia said she'd help. Gritting his teeth for a moment, holding the pierce-chiming Vinyl in place, he mumbled, "Octavia… assist a fellow dom?"

"Mm, spontaneity," she purred. "Certainly. How may I help?"

"Cheat a bit…" he groaned. "Hands at the base. Like a ring-- will it work?"

The moment stretched. Vinyl was merciless; if he didn't pull, she pushed, and hummed faster, if still silenced-- by the cock she was vibrating over, if nothing else. Octavia lipped at his ear for a moment. "Daring," she eventually said, then moved her hands up. "In theory, yes, though I’ve never had a dominant ask me to put a little bit of constriction in for them. And the dry climaxes aren't going to be too fun." Teasing and warning all in one.

Nevertheless, she settled her sturdy cellist's hands around the base of his dick and squeezed. A whimper, acharacteristic of her serene superiority, escaped her throat and she whispered, "Good Celestia in Canterlot. I can just barely make the fingertips touch!" True to her word, when he plunged his head back into the dark, tight ravine of her cleavage and the climax stifled-- without letting the pleasure truly fade-- it was an awkward experience.

A little of his seed leaked out anyway, and then a little more when Vinyl swallowed around the forward quarter of his cock. Apparently, they didn't count that. Shit! he thought. She's only about eight inches towards me!

Frosty hadn't gained much time, either; his body responded instantly, nerves all along his pulsing prick becoming more sensitive, more focused on the pleasures Vinyl was giving him. As a result, he had to pull harder, not that it bothered Vinyl; indeed, the slither of her tongue and vibration of her throat seemed to increase as he tugged more on her sensitive ears.

She said it herself. Pain slut, he reminded himself, then groaned at Octavia, "How… many of them were virgins being offered to top you both later if they held out?"

A grunt from behind him, another sway of those well-padded breasts, and her hands trembled on the base of his shaft. "None," she said softly. "You're showing signs of generosity and inventiveness." She groaned, her fingers almost releasing him, but she kept to her part of the bargain. "DJ, what do you think? If he plows your little hole down to his medial, shall we take him back after our set?"

However Vinyl Scratch communicated without speaking, it wasn't muffled by the now foot of veiny, overengorged horsecock down her throat. Frosty was well aware of her enthusiastic yes. He nearly had her there, too. So he took matters into his own hands again.

Or rather, feet. He shifted abruptly, swinging his legs around over Vinyl's shoulders, feeling the warmed metal of her wires beneath his calves. Biting his lip to hold off-- the move had surprised Octavia, and she'd lost her grip-- he threw his head back into the welcoming dark warmth of Octavia's cleavage, hooked his heels between Vinyl's shoulderblades and pulled!

He barely got her stretched over the medial before his thwarted climax hit. Somewhere in his still-shy soul, part of him was grateful he was yelling out his first orgasm that didn't involve himself alone into Octavia's ponderous tits. After all, it meant that he was less likely to disturb any of the other couples and herds socializing and fucking the daylights out of each other in the bar. The logic wasn't great, but he enjoyed it.

If the sudden clench of Octavia's warm belly behind his back was any indication, she enjoyed it too. He couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but he hoped it was suitably approving. He certainly could make out Vinyl's acknowledgment of his win-- she kept shoving more dick down her throat as he came!

Octavia's hands were suddenly on his shaft again. Not holding back, but masturbating everywhere Vinyl's mouth hadn't reached yet. Jerking him off into her marefriend and, yes, when Vinyl choked around a large wad, brought him over to double up deep into Vinyl's stomach. His balls emptied themselves and over again into the willing unicorn,while Octavia played the music of pleasure over the rest of his package, and it was more than he could ever have hoped for.

Clean up took a while; he trebled up and came on Vinyl's face. Octavia chuckled as she set Frosty down. Ignoring him for the moment, she knelt down close to her marefriend, and caned her with the bow again when Vinyl tried to squirm away. "Oh, give it a rest and share, you horrible slut," Octavia laughed lovingly, and began to slurp his cum off Vinyl's face. The two kissed, and his prick leapt like it wanted to get hard again.

"Sorry, for the enticement, my dear," Octavia told him when they finished. "Unfortunately, there’s no time to do much more than clean you up before we begin our set, but you have certainly earned a private performance, mister Quartz." She wiped him clean with a bar napkin-- larger than most, self-moistening spell, and the dispensary had a cock on it anyway. Probably for just this purpose.

To his surprise, they delayed getting ready to help him back into the cocksleeve and his pants-- though his shoes were his responsibility, it seemed-- before both kissed him on the cheek. Vinyl pawed his chest affectionately, and Octavia said, "Do make sure to stay for the whole thing. You will enjoy it, I am sure… and it would most unfair of you to make us track you down to ravish us, good luck pony."

Dual Duet Chapter 2 by Troublesome Beast (BDSM, Anthro)

Frosty settled onto a chair not far from the little stage. After Octavia and Vinyl had finished him, they'd tapped a message into their pipsubs. Not long after that, one of the bar slaves had gotten on the stage and warned, "Please check your pips. The next performance is deliberately designed to channel bardic magic, inflaming passion and a sense of truth. You will feel something like an ethereal adrenaline surge, while breaking down the need to deceive others or yourself."

She cleared her throat. "This will manifest as a herd-sense effect on ponies," which were of course the primary audience in Clocktower Equestria East, "and therefore can be quite strong. If you do not opt in on the flagged messages promptly or leave, the Couerans will eject you as nonconsenting and holding up the fun for those who do consent. Or for wanting to be ejected by the Couerans, which, believe me, I understand that."

The Couerans were a pair of huge diamond dog bitches wearing spiked leather harnesses, their black collars, and nothing else. Bouncers, he supposed, though he hoped more for the look of it-- the Society didn't seem to be too full of ponies needing to be bounced, after all. A few ponies left, but most began to settle what they were doing and gravitate towards the stage.

Now that he was aware of his "effect," Frosty noticed the looks of interest from collared subs. But… My night's no longer free, he thought, and had to shake his head. I've been picked up by two of the most famous ponies in Equestria. I can look for more longterm opportunities tomorrow, or something.

He had a few months to get to know the Society. College didn't start until the fall, after all; he was on vacation as far as his parent herd knew. He also had no illusions that anything permanent would happen with Vinyl and Octavia. The only part of their collars and masks that applied to him was the red; if that lead to repeat visits, well, they were busy ponies, and he didn't want to just be a groupie dom.

Is that a thing? he wondered.

It didn't matter. He wanted to see the "show" they'd hinted at. A duet, Octavia called it, he remembered. A dual duet. Surely they're not bringing another pair of ponies onstage?

No, a single hyper's stool was up on the stage, with mics and amps carefully set up around the edges. Amplifiers was something of a misnomer. In fact, if Frosty recognized the crystal configurations right, they were designed to help the boxy speakers pump out sound while repressing any carried magic, whether unicorn arcana or earth pony mysticism. Or whatever it is that makes pegasus weather magic work, though that hardly applies, he mused.

Octavia lead Vinyl up to the stage on by a leash. No, not a leash, a freehanging cello scroll, attached only by long wires that parted to either end to join the throng through Vinyl's nipple piercings. Vinyl was lagging behind just a bit, too; she seemed enthusiastic for further "corrections" from the stinging swat of the battle-bow's hair (well, wires; apparently tuned to give cello sounds without being unusable as a weapon).

That, and to have her pierced nipples tugged further ahead. Frosty saw her silently hiss in pleasure at the discomfort, and squirm happily at the feel of the wires running along her body constrict.

To each their own, he supposed. It's a bit intimidating, honestly.

Octavia was a classic earth pony maretriarch, tall, stately, and well-fed. Strong enough for battle, but showing clear signs that her clan-- or, in this modern day, her family and household-- was well-provided for. Every curve on her was in clear view; she hadn't bothered adding to her decorations, after all, meaning from her bow-tie down, her only adornment were her tux-cuff bracers, twinkling in the dim light. The wobble of her O-cups preceded her like a pair of exuberant heralds, proclaiming her fertility and lushness to all.

Frosty couldn't tell if the waggle in her hips was deliberate arrogance in beauty, or simply the way her impossibly gorgeous physiology was. They swayed and tensed to either side, almost the orbit of two gracious moons in ready attendance. From there, the taut musculature and graceful framework created a droolworthy support for the jaw-dropping jiggle of her plush.

Speak of moons, he thought as she passed.

No one would, no one could make the mistake he had, that she "only" had a musical cutie mark. Those violet treble clefs, on that grey hide, each in proud wobble over her perfect rump cheeks-- incredible, beautiful, nearly hypnotic. The effect was unmistakable at the sheer size and excess of Octavia's glorious ass. A perfect teardrop shape, trembling like it was perpetually falling but never shed with each step.

Each saunter. Whether it was simply how Octavia Melody walked because she could do no other, or because she had a tower of serene pride to draw on, from her tush down, there was nothing so banal as walking about her movements. She strode, potent quads rising and then subsuming beneath gorgeous excess, lovely calves and bare feet. Frosty felt a bit lost, dom or no, her approval or not.

She even has beautiful knees, he acknowledged.

Vinyl followed behind, tugging back, lagging, her pert C-cups held forward by the scroll-leash. To say nothing of her past-stiff nips, kept pointed forward and a little in by the multiple strands pulling through them. She moved with-- well, a techno beat. Stuttering and pounding all at once, the thick wires running over her body pulling her hide together in a plethora of stimulation points-- utterly devoted.

Lag behind, thwack of the battle-bow, hurry forward, lag behind, thwack-- not Octavia's stately procession, but intimately suited to Vinyl's projected persona. Being medial-ring deep in a mare was not the usual way to get to know the subtle nuances of someone's body language, of course. Barring terrible puns on a Cockney accent that would have been more appropriate to Octavia. However, while Frosty didn't know how a unicorn would project communication like that-- it wasn't through herd sense, he was sure-- he did know she was making it clear.

Party's starting, subs and doms. Party's starting, and don't you wish you had me on a leash like my mistress? Who among you is as extreme as Vinyl Scratch? Who among you is as awesome as Octavia Melody?

It was amazing. Vinyl's body didn't have the classic hourglass. Not because she had less than full tits; for all the comparison to the hypers' extravagance, C-cups in good shape made for a lovely top curve. No, this was because of the insane bottle-bottom shape of her hips and ass.

Octavia's were extravagant enough on her giant eight-foot frame. Vinyl was five-foot six, if that-- maybe more like five-four; Frosty wasn't sure in the dim light. Her marefriend had nearly three feet on her, and Vinyl literally had the same silhouette beneath the waist.

Wider, if you counted the piercings, but not by much.

How could any mare-interested pony describe that appropriately? Frosty knew he wasn't up for the task. His brain kept repeating things like wide, and toned, and delicious, on continuous loop. That was the other thing; he could only believe she'd had a partial hypergene expression. It happened sometimes, like the Maretriarch of the Oranges, who had a hyper's hourglass on a normal's body.

He wasn't sure how you just got that below the waist. Maybe it's not hypergene, he thought. maybe it's alchemical body-mod? Because unlike Octavia, there was very little jiggly padding on Vinyl's prodigious posterior. Her glutes were perfectly taut and bulging, creating a sort of ripple in the bridged-eighths of her cutie ma…

Her cutie marks are pierced! The thought shocked Frosty, despite the extensive body mods elsewhere. After all, while she'd had her labia pierced, and that was about the sensitivity of a cutie mark, your labia weren't generally a part of your day to day life-magic. Cutie marks weren't just an erogenous zone; if you did anything to them, from surgery to grooming to… well… piercing, you had to take tremendous care to make sure it didn't put your life force into toxic shock.

Vinyl had two tiny studs, one in the middle of each bridged eighth on her rump cheeks. Neither were connected to the web of wires pulling at her other piercings, so the effect both accentuated the marks themselves and made the studs stand out more. He could just barely make them out in the dim light, but wasn't surprised.

Vinyl had gone to the expense of getting pierced properly in her cutie marks, just to display Octavia Melody's violet treble clefs at the heart of her magic. What else was there to say? To do, except to wonder in awe at the talents of Clocktower Society biomancers that they made that work.

He blushed, his the sudden throb and swell of his prick squirming in its sleeve and pressing against the faux-leather of his pants nearly as badly as before. It was incredibly, almost unbearably hot, and yet as untouchably romantic as the adamantite of her collar. Then, just as she stepped onto the stage, Vinyl wriggled a bit, showing off her crystal bells at him. Be ready to whip it out was the clear message. Followed by a little twitch of her tail and flick of the end.

Pity your poor pants otherwise, you fool. Watch my Octy work.

As warnings went, it worked. He was already unsnapping when they started to prep for the set.

The Couerans hadn't needed to eject many ponies. Like most functions in the Society, the preparations were more than sufficient to the moment. Most ponies in the Back Nine clearly knew what they were in for in the first place; those who didn't, like Frosty, had been informed and given plenty of time to make their decisions. The informative pop-up on his pipsub-- he'd gotten it onto his wrist, finally-- had been more accurate about the earth pony magic involved than what was available in most public high schools.

He stayed, not just because of the afterpromise. Not just because of the amazing beauty and intriguing skill of the pair. But because of that interesting combination-- the inflammation of passion, which was a given, but the modulation of truth through it. Sure, he thought, truth is beauty and whatnot, but how does truth interweave with passion? I can't say it interests me more than leering at them, but it's a good draw, all on its own.

Octavia took her seat on the provided stool, with Vinyl kneeling beside her. Unlike when she'd provided a lap for Frosty, she spread her lush thighs wide, the gorgeous pink of her pussy on eager display. Despite the sheer, primal lewdness of it, there was still an inherent sense of dignity to Octavia's seat and movement. Deeper than her mask, truer than a cutie mark, she simply defined dignitas.

Which was not to say this stately maretriarch wasn't inviting the audience to observe. She ignored Vinyl like she was simply an instrument waiting to be used, stroking her sex with supple fingers in quick, elegant motions.

Like she was tuning herself and welcoming the audience all at once. Vinyl's not the only exhibitionist, Frosty thought-- not that that was news.

Octavia cleared her throat. Her face grew graver and more serious than he'd ever seen her, even on the newly televised concerts. She nodded once, inhaled from the diaphragm, and spoke. Frosty didn't know the words, but her accent shifted; more lilting, musical, her body as instrument again.

"Do mo bhean agus mo ghrá," she told them, "mo cheol agus mo chroí, mo chéad agus mo seo caite…" She paused, wistfulness spreading over her muzzle as she clasped her hands together, still holding Vinyl's leash.

Then she spread her hands wide and smiled. "Bí fáilte roimh chách," she told the room, and it felt like a benediction.

Frosty's gemological studies by necessity included herd-sense resonance with earthpower, and now he truly understood the favor Octavia and Vinyl were doing the owners. The power in it, the welcome and love and desire thrummed out through them all, resonating from pony to pony. The eroticism was just an undercurrent, a subtheme in waiting. Mostly, there was love and friendship, a communal pony-ness that fully included the Couerans and the few scattered griffons and others in the audience.

Community, for joy in sex and joy in power exchange. A metaphor, if you wanted one.

Then she turned to Vinyl and smirked. "Your turn, sweet whorse," she said, and pulled on the leash-scroll.

Grunting and huffing at the sudden tension across her body, Vinyl strode to her feet. She moved over in front of Octavia, lewdly swinging her outrageous hips in what had to be a deliberate near-dance already. Chimes jingled with every twitch and sway-- and it was already a distinct melody, a rising, peppy call to focus the room's attention. She took her place before Octavia, and bent low-- almost an L-shape-- to where her horn was a breath from Octavia's clit.

Octavia pressed her pinky and middle finger along three of the wires, and the chimes began to shake, almost vibrate. The connections running around Vinyl's ass tugged, revealing her tailhole-- pierced along the ring in six equidistant arcs, of course-- and better giving the audience a view of Vinyl's decorated cunt.

It was dripping, and faster the longer Octavia held her open, the chimes slowing and then ceasing. The stately hyper mare smiled, a love in her eyes behind her mask all for Vinyl. "Test sequence, slave," was her command. Somewhat necessary if your submissive apparently couldn’t speak, ever. Vinyl carefully rang the bells in order, the bells that would be silent as her voice in any other circumstances save her need.

Octavia looked seriously at the audience. She smiled, and little huffs from the otherwise still Vinyl accompanied her as she spoke. After all, Octavia kept Vinyl's anus and sex on full display as she said, "Doms and subs alike, you have consented to be here, and I appreciate your interest in our art. However, your consent is still meaningful at all stages, as important as my dear slaves. Feel free to leave if you wish, interject if you need, and we will use our talents to bring the emotions to equilibrium should it be required. Your consent is law, and may be revoked, even should it end our offering on a discordant note. No pressure shall be laid against you save that you shall have our aid in pushing against it; nor will animus against those who require such measures be tolerated."

It was the statement of a clanhead willing to declare war, a severe counterpoint to the loving blessing of her Coltic. How sacred, Frosty wondered, must these contexts and concepts be to somepony whose magic, music, and special talent are all one in service of land and heart?

The audience was still, as quiet as Vinyl before the pull had begun.

Slowly, Vinyl began to move from bow to full kneel. She kept her adornments silent for the moment, not even making a sound when her knees touched the floor between Octavia's lush thighs. Those received the first break to the silence; soft but decidedly smacking kisses to first the right, then the left inner thigh, followed by a worshipful nuzzle at Octavia's bared pussy.

Octavia twisted the scroll in her hand, turning it while her fingers stroked across the strings. A high set of vibrating notes sounded, played into and amongst the cheery jangle of the chings. A low groan from Vinyl soon accompanied them as she rotated, obeying the pull of her leash. Dexterous as ever, she completely pulled herself around, stroking her long legs into the air as she twirled, adding her own music to Octavia's.

Vinyl's breasts were pulled to point upwards by her nipples, hauled by the scroll and the descending strings. The impression of a double-necked stringed instrument was unmistakable now, with the intricate weave of piercing and wires spreading and separating each strand as it fell from breast to cunt.

And then Octavia played Vinyl's scales with her bow, stroking from low to high on the right breast, high to low on the left. The sounds were nearly identical to a cello.

Frosty had no idea how she managed it. There were differences, but light ones-- a slightly broader range, and a strange quality that wasn't just the bardic magic flowing. But somehow, between the strings, the placement, and…

Ahah, the plates, he realized. Whatever those abstract implantations might be made of, they reflected and altered sound. It wasn't just Octavia playing; Vinyl was flexing and shifting with supreme concentration to modulate what the strings produced to make it sound right. Vinyl had incredible muscle control; starting from an expert belly dancer's roll and sway from the stomach, but weaving out to her arms and legs with such precision that her digits were almost like afterthoughts.

Almost, but not quite. Her fingers curved and arched, rings set on all five of each hand. Compress or extend, twitch or touch, each motion pulled back on the wires that linked through the piercings outlining her form in metal.

And of course, were anchored in every intimate spot and erogenous zone on her body. The constant, smooth ripple of her toned tummy was not merely a voluntary response; the song itself and the rest of both mare's motions incorporated a very clear core-clenching pleasure that ran through every inch of the puppet-played Vinyl. Which probably explained why her pussy was winking at the audience as though Octavia was between Vinyl's thighs, rather than the other way around.

Just scales, to start, a simple little duet to tune themselves, but Frosty could feel the power of it resonating through him, and the ponies near him. Through a sense of community, through the herd-sense, lightly flicking from level to level. It was just being born, but it was like a second heartbeat, pulsing along with his natural one. Ready for the show to begin.

It did, in a fluid moment that he almost missed. It shouldn't have been possible, not the way Vinyl was being held, the way Vinyl was moving. Surely, the strings should have tangled when the impossible sway of her hips twitched, the ripple in her stomach became a powerful, coiled spring, and she began to turn again. The sinuous motion was liquid sex, a promise from every decorated inch from her that went beyond offer, beyond enticement.

She was fucking the music, and the audience got to watch. The constrictions of her flesh seemed not to impair her motion at all; instead, it gave her further accentuation of movement. A different way to move her chimes. More tugging, more pulling, more play on her most sensitive and clearly targeted hide and more, every shift and twist a dance, yes, but it played on.

For through it all, Octavia's bow began to move faster, twisting with obvious skill while the fingers on the scroll-leash pressed, pushed, and manipulated the tension along the wires. She switched from tit to tit below, masturbating Vinyl's pretty Cs as much as playing, but always, the song was there. It shouldn't have continued, it shouldn't have been possible.

Vinyl's horn wasn't even glowing as she pranced and chimed for her trio of partners in sensuality: Octavia, the audience, and the music. Just personal dexterity, cunning preparation, and a mistressy coming down from above, making a light, airy song, wordless, loving, sensual-- impossible.

For all its impossibility, the dance played on. Octavia was quick and precise, switching easily from bow to finger, interweaving classical and preclassical techniques on as unique an instrument as ever was: her Vinyl. The massive earth pony stroked the writhing flesh of her unicorn submissive with each new sound, singing tenderly as the wires between Vinyl's omnipresent piercings.

Eventually, the song was recognizable. It was too classical to be called a modernization of the famous lesbian lyrical poet Sap Hoof's ancient work, but it was an updated cover nonetheless. One with the more graceful and powerful sound of the living cello, but still suited to the rhythm and meter of Sap Hoof's potent song.

The music became more distinct with every shake and every shimmy Vinyl made between Octavia's thunderstorm thighs. The twisting, humping fluiding of Vinyl's dance, the marehoney collecting on her nether lips, the angle and twist of her arms as she weaved formed the improbable medium for the song. She curved her whole frame from her ring-pulling fingers and curling toes outwards, then clenched back straight to her core, still twirling, always twirling, and somehow keeping the strands straight for her mistress. From that, Octavia called forth sound and bardic magic, sensuousness beyond the visual, beyond even the aural effects. Octavia was playing for the pleasure and devotion of her audience's soul.

Then she began to sing, and the passion that had been promised wasn't a hint any more. It swelled up from Octavia's belly, filled and fueled by her love and lust for Vinyl. It traveled into her broad chest, a boobquake of delicious proportions following, and Frosty felt that love and lust shared with them.

"Come, noble lyre, take voice,

and tell me…"

Frosty's erection was back in moments. The song's power was there, and he had no reason to deny it. He wasn't the only audience member thus engorged, and who wouldn't respond like so? Other than the majority of the audience, mares, whose stiffness was somewhat more subdued than sudden phalanx of horsecock. But the scent, and the sense of the herd reacting-- it all made sense. Jingling, shifting, even shaking her ass, all of it was Vinyl's gift to her mistress and gift to her audience, bounce and brilliance coming together.

Never did Vinyl Scratch speak, of course. But as her elegant arms curved and set the chimes embedded in her hide ringing in perfect tune with Octavia's playing, as her toned stomach flexed, setting the soundboards she had implanted over her abs to rotate the strings-- as her lithe legs carried her in a twirl around the strings her hyper dominant held her by, she gave her voice to the presentation as well. Each twist of her enormously curved hips, each step and jiggle of her shapely breasts that changed the very timbre and range of the music-- it was all her voice.

Octavia sung on, her light riffs on Sap Hoof's immortal words set to the fusion of lyric pluck and cellish stroke.

"... be my soft harp,

Abandon, sing of Gongyla;"

Octavia played Vinyl wonderfully; each silent gasp from wire-pressed flesh, and every pleasured tremble that further shifted song and melody was proof of that. As was the faint light glittering off increasingly dampened thighs, of course. But Vinyl played herself back at Octavia, the two mares adjusting the very structure of their instrument to match each other, Octavia's skill to Vinyl's sinuous dance, Octavia's thick thighs bracketing Vinyl's motion into the oddest lap dance ever.

Passion. Passion and truth. Frosty followed the song in masturbatory tribute, his fingers squeezing and stroking along his length. As pre fell copiously from the fat tip, he trailed the lube down his obscene length in time with the music. He let the truth in it wind into him, playing him with pleasure. Something broke and was lost in his heart, but he didn't mourn the passing, for it was a fetter.

He enjoyed being a dom. Enjoyed the play, the exchange, the-- passion. The song didn't tell him whether that was right or wrong, just helped him look at it, free of his shyness. More than his cock straightened at that moment, his eyes fixed on Octavia and Vinyl.

Self-discovery. A truth that had always been there, or he would never have braved the mask, but had still been uncomfortable with. As real to him now as the extra perk in Vinyl's nipples that had nothing to do with the tug of the piercings, the flush of Octavia's skin that was all from her lover, as the lightly quivering curves on Octavia's body matched the constant sway and step on Vinyl's.

For all that Octavia's role was constrained to stability around her wife’s dance, the same pleasure seemed to be glowing in her. Faint flush beneath dark grey hide grew, noticeable even in the dimness. And while nothing interfered with the discipline of her song or playing, the massive muscles in her thighs tensed and quivered as Vinyl's softer body rubbed and ground against them.

"... to strum across

the pleasure-welcoming strings"

Vinyl Scratch wasn't Octavia's instrument, for all the strings and soundboards were anchored in her very body. The huge-hipped little mare was as much player as her amazonian mistress. Thus, the instrument was the very sound itself, balanced between the lovers. Vinyl moved with languid, rolling motions, squirming around the strings as Octavia rotated them easily. One leg would swoop up, then fall beneath one of Octavia's thighs; then her ass would roll back, tail flagging from side to side and brushing her clef-piercings in her cutie marks. All the while, her hands shifted, rings pulling back on the wires, tightening the strings at just the right moment for Octavia's bow to slide across them.

The music made love to Vinyl, and Vinyl fucked back. So far, Octavia herself was untouched directly, but she was certainly enjoying it all. Her face was flushed, darkening under the light grey hide. Her toes curled, and though she never sweated-- naturally-- she certainly looked heated. Vinyl teased the audience with Octavia, too, hiding the bigger mare's pussy with her own strutting, swinging body. Sometimes, the music and the dance seemed to "require" her to sway from this side or that to reveal the drenched earth pony pussy behind.

So the music moved Octavia as well; quivers running down her thick thighs that never had anything to do with controlling her posture. Little heaves of her heavy chest that failed to distort her singing; soft moans that only added to it.

Frosty came, unashamed, only remembering at the last moment to point himself down towards the cum-drains rather than disrupt the beauty on stage. He wasn't the only stallion to do so-- not the only cocked member of the audience to do so. Indeed, both pretty futas in the front row had extra-reservoir condoms on as they jerked each other off. The feel of it was incredible, pleasure sensitivity still tingling from cumming down Vinyl's throat, tweaked and tuned by the power of a skilled bard and her talented sonic sorceress submissive. No shame in it, just an honest, open enjoyment of the shared pleasure with the performing mares on the stage.

The song, the dance, the performance reached its height, then paused. Silence held, and Vinyl stilled. Then Octavia began plucking hard at the strings in suspension, strong notes in descent. Vinyl stayed still, and Vinyl stayed edged, waiting, looking, her gaze penetrating for all it was hidden behind her shades.

Please, mistress. Vinyl's message screamed louder than song or silence. The need to cum, the need to release, gifted to the audience but indulged by neither performer as of yet.

"Are you prepared, my love?" Octavia's coo was not quite a song any more. "Can you make your modernity worth your mistress' while?"

Yes.

"We begin anew."

Vinyl's horn flared, and any sense of coherent communication was lost in a sudden cacophony of light and harmony of sound. Pure, yet almost thumping tones erupted from the strings as Vinyl's magic stroked along them, empowering them even as she bent over L-shaped once more. Shaking her ass and flagged tail was her display for the audience; the trace of Vinyl's fingers and Vinyl's magic, pulling back against the scroll leash, those were her submission to Octavia.

Slowly, proudly, Octavia rose. Her tall, regal head and muzzle shifted slightly; her eyes were not for the audience, but solely on her shimmying spouse. Her prodigious hips were outlined in the light; her gigantic breasts, worshipped by it. As she let out a melodic groan, Vinyl rolled her agile body as though the music was fucking her on Octavia's behalf again, and then she threw every ounce of herself not controlling the music into climaxing her lover.

Vinyl's hornflare swarmed over her body-- over her sex, of course, and massive breasts, too, but in earnest everywhere. The spray of light and magic was reflected into the room as Vinyl begged for Octavia to join her, not just in the music, not just in the dance, but in the moment. To come to the moment, and cum in it.

Vinyl pulled on strings that could only stimulate and savage herself, throwing her body wholeheartedly into the increasing constriction of the wires, sonic force in her arcane grip as she suddenly played her dom's body with as much devotion and skill as Octavia had hers. The purple flickered and swarmed over Octavia's lush curves like frantic kisses, vibrating, stimulating, finding every source of her already heated hide's sensitivity and redoubling it. Trebling it.

They came, together, loud cries and squeezing stomachs, their orgasmic release the only sound travelling across the wires for the moment. Frosty's erection felt like it was trying to throb right off his groin, and his desperate masturbation the only way to keep it close. They can't be done yet… he whispered to himself. I need more. Not an addiction; that wouldn't have been permitted. But that unparalleled sexuality and sensuous music… Surely, it can't end like this!

Of course not. Not for these two. In fact, once the orgasms started, they could hardly stop. Octavia danced now, still playing her bow across the strings but no longer limited to the "necks" between tit and twat on Vinyl. She stroked and sawed it everywhere she could find tension over Vinyl's body. Sometimes, it was just a light moderation of the existing song of their orgasms; sometimes, it was a strange and powerful pulse of sound like the prior performance but…

More intense, was the best he could distinguish. Are there electric cellos? If not, then this must be the dream of them; if so, then I can hardly think of a better tribute to the medium. Octavia's huge form moved with stately grace even as she twirled and stomped around her partner, setting off lush avalanches of assflesh for the audience to moan over, or swaying her giant orbs around in beautiful, untouchable rhythms that almost seemed carried by the music itself.

Untouchable by the world, but well-loved and well-touched by Vinyl's magic. As they danced and played each other, they never physically touched, their bodies spiralling past each other in brief, teasing moments. Vinyl's pierced and wired arms would stroke so close to one of Octavia's stupendously swinging breasts that they might have been thought a connection or a caress, but what there was stroked through them both.

Up would pop Vinyl, rolling and grinding her ass now in Octavia's direction, while the room got to watch her smug smile and lovingly abused breasts. Around would dance Octavia, crushing heft of her well-fed belly and well-made chest swinging into the circle between them as though teasing the smaller mare with their presence but not their weight.

Twirl and step and sway and clench, new climaxes erupting as the fever pitch of sound rose between them. Not merely sound, still song; not just an electric cello, but some strange, almost technomantic chorus of the chimes and wires, of vibrations and stops and squeals of delight.

Of course, Frosty nodded as his own second climax erupted, barely kept from flinging over the stage yet again. Techno. Dom and sub, partners, lovers, one flesh made of two. This is Vinyl's half of the lovesong, while the lust and the passion are their whole together.

Octavia sped up as the wave of sound and throb of light intensified. Now the giant warmare was kicking up her long, well-padded legs, the dominatrix teasing her audience with a flash of pink behind the grey here, with a flirt of her tail to reveal her gorgeous ass's crack there, promising obscene heights of pleasure for any who came under her power.

Or who had earned a night of something else.

But power was Octavia's role for the moment, and she held it high. A flex of her biceps almost yanked Vinyl off her feet; a dashed lunge showed off the powerful mass of her quads while Vinyl arched her back towards Octavia's ass and just rolled her wire-trapped stomach towards the audience. The beg to Octavia's demand. They moved, and the sound moved with them.

Frosty's oversized prick didn't-- couldn't-- stay soft long. Not under that amazing, blissful display. Many audience members were once again making love to each other, balls or dildo deep in a much-loved and much-used slave, or perhaps singing their own soundless song into a beloved mistress' sex, or around a lordly master's member. The ruts ran in time with the song; dances of the body and the heart coming together in imitation of the spectacle on stage.

To each their own; some merely kissed, some just watched and appreciated. The passion that Octavia and Vinyl fed the audience was still heralded and protected by truth; no one would come to any flare of need that they did not wish for as well. The music spun on; the orgy sung on.

Balls almost sore from release, Frosty was grateful that the pair brought the performance down slowly. Incremental changes in tempo swirled around him and the rest of the audience. Twirl and sway and jiggle and rut continued from the two, but slowly, more intimate than excess.

Their magic slowed with it. The erotic power of their dance was still enhanced and transmitted through the wave, but each fading note made it more and more the product of two beautiful bodies moving together, not bardic magic.

No less special for that, Frosty quietly averred.

Eventually, finally, they touched, Octavia hauling her submissive up for a slow burn of a kiss as Vinyl's chimes fell silent and the wires hummed to quiet against her skin. The room darkened back to dim, the only sounds the squeals and groans of those whose cumming had understandably lagged behind the dancers.

Then utter silence, followed swiftly by thunderous applause.

There were rounds of congratulations from other patrons to wade through, as thick as the splashed spunk that hadn't made it to the drains. Frosty sat, more than a little spent. Fear penetrated truth briefly.

How can I expect them to still want me with them tonight? he wondered After all that? Then he threw the fear into the passionate fire the dance had left in his soul as much as his balls. If they do, I'm blessed. If they don't… He tapped the tundra ice yet again, and watched the mares around him better now. Plenty of wriggles to pursue.

As epiphanies went, it was a decent one. As lessons went, it was unneeded, as Octavia and Vinyl unwound themselves from their admirers to bracket Frosty's chair, left and right yet again.

Vinyl outright grabbed his still-soft prick. She informed him that he had better not have emptied the pretty thing entirely; newbie or not, light kink or heavy, they had expectations. Octavia hatted him, resting her heavy, headily-musked O-cups on his head-- or rather, mostly around his head-- and shuddered pleasantly with the still-careening aftereffect.

"Mmm," she rumbled at him as Vinyl's expert grip began to stiffen him swiftly. "You have been quite the good luck piece, young sir. Let us see if it extends to getting lucky promptly." He couldn't see the thin smile on her lips, but he knew it was there, every bit as much as he knew how deep the red ran beneath the grey of her face and upper chest. "We have procured a room above for the night. Are you still willing?"

Shyness held no chains on his future. Frosty's mask felt light on his face-- or a part of it. He let Vinyl guide him to his feet by his throbbing cock. He stuck out his tongue at Vinyl and grumbled, "Yes, if your wife will let me get back into my pants."

"Why get in only to take them out?"

It took a little longer than it might have to get upstairs.

But fun, as it should be, was had by all.

Return to the Tower, by Wintergleam (SFW Art)

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Greener on the Other Side by Script Write (Adult Foals, Diapers, Watersports, Hypnosis)

Author's Note

Written by the critically acclaimed Script Write! If you enjoy this, be sure to check out her page for all of her other wonderfully kinky works and give her a follow as thanks!

Featuring the editing talents of Silent Whisper (to be paid in stolen cookies from the ‘hidden’ stash) and Winter Thorn

The following story contains: Adult Foals, diapers, sissification, humiliation, watersports and hypnosis.

Greener on the Other Side by Script Write (Adult Foals, Diapers, Watersports, Hypnosis)

Hoof Holder trotted through the dimly-lit halls of Clocktower Equestria East, the green fire of the torches on the grey rock walls doing little to illuminate her path. Her green coat matched the light, though the same could not be said for her white mane, which took on a slightly swampy hue.

She checked her PipSub for the time. 11:54. She was right on schedule.

Her saddlebags tugged at her sides, packed full of everything she was going to need for the evening ahead, an event she’d been planning with one of her regular ‘playmates’ for quite some time.

The unicorn had quickly finished her marking of pop-quizzes and tests from her day job as a teacher at Ponyville Middle School to attend to her most guilty of pleasures.

The back halls of the facility were long and winding, and her destination was one tucked away almost as far away from the main play areas as possible due to the more… niche demand for its use.

At last, though, she arrived at the familiar door, painted with tasteful baby blue and candyfloss pink stripes. Emblazoned on the door was the outline of a pacifier and foal’s bottle in shining gold paint. She had arrived.

She lifted a hoof to knock on the door but hesitated as she realised she’d forgotten a very important step: getting in character.

Taking a deep breath, she made herself totally and completely ignorant. She knew nothing of what was behind that strange door.

Holder nodded, satisfied that her mind state was just right for what she was about to do. She brought her hoof back up and knocked it against the door in the specific pattern she knew she was to use to signal the start of the scene.

She watched as the door swung open revealing the smiling face of her good friend and play partner, Baby Bottle. The two of them had been friends since elementary school, and friends-with-benefits since high school. They’d both found and joined the Society at the same time and had always confided each other their deepest and kinkiest secrets.

His usual red collar was firmly attached around his neck along with a crystal disk that served as his name tag (or his dom medallion when their roles were reversed). A PipSub was firmly attached to his hoof, also showing the time. It seemed she wasn’t the only pony who was eager for the scene to come.

Luckily for Holder, Bottle had been very receptive to this idea and had pounced at the chance to help her finally experience what she’d spent so many lonely nights with her hoof pressed into her marehood fantasising about.

Of course, from that point forward, the second she stepped past the door she was to forget everything about him, his name, his fetishes, the feeling of his cock buried insi-- No, don’t get too worked up yet! she thought to herself. She couldn’t allow herself to get too pent up too soon lest she ruined her perfect moment with her pesky lust.

“Hello there, welcome to Grassy Fields, for the foals at heart!” Bottle said, smiling at her widely. He was always incredible at staying in character, his life outside of the Society tending to the needs of actual foals. He was often involved playing the ‘prince’ character for fillies with grand dreams of being Raponezel or Cinherdella.

She smiled knowingly at him, peeking into the lobby of the daycare. “So I am at the right place, thank Celestia, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere!” she said innocently.

The walls were all painted sky-blue, with big, cartoon graphics of white clouds scattered around the room. Also painted along the bottom of the walls were crude, foalish drawings of ponies of different colors, shapes, and races playing on a field of green. Directly opposite the entrance to the lobby was a large set of double doors, decorated with a large, smiling sun painted in the center.

“Yes, we can be a little hard to find sometimes, but I assure you that it was well worth the trek all the way from the main hall! My name is Baby Bottle and I’ll be your tour guide today!” Bottle said, stepping aside to let her through and into the spacious lobby.

“Hello Mister Bottle, my name is Hoof Holder. I do hope you don’t mind that I take notes on what I see today, I’m rather forgetful, you see?”

“That’s totally fine, Miss Holder, and please, just Bottle is fine.”

“In that case, there’s no need to be so formal with me, either!” she said in a friendly tone.

A receptionist sat at a desk to Holder’s right, a Clocktower Maid tasked specifically with the administration of registering the Adult Foals and all of their specific fetishes along with dealing with the safekeeping of diaper keys, magical tape locks which ensured a little ‘foal’ couldn’t pry the tapes off their padding and make a mess everywhere.

The card-like keys all hung on the wall behind her, each engraved with the cutie mark of the pony whose key pertained to their specific diaper. Holder glanced at the maid, winking cheekily to remind her that there was a scene in progress as she checked the keys hanging behind her.

Perfect! Looks like we’re nice and busy tonight! she thought. She always loved having an audience for her kinkiest endeavours.

“Now, shall we proceed with the tour?” the stallion asked, turning and trotting towards the double doors.

As he turned, Holder got a good look at the poofy clean diaper that adorned his flank that crinkled with each of his steps. A crystalline safety bell hung from his tail, tied in place with a short pink ribbon.

He noticed her staring as he glanced over his shoulder, smiling as she inspected the graphics that were supposed to indicate how wet his diaper was. His indicators displayed the image of foal rattles. It seemed that he was still dry.

That would change before long.

“Our first stop is the playroom!” he explained as he opened the doors and stepped into another room, decorated much the same as in the lobby, but containing some twenty-odd adult foals all diapered and playing with various blocks, dolls and action figures.

She looked over the mares and stallions, most either babbling to each other in a barely understandable foalish form of Equestrian or suckling on a pacifier given to them by one of the caretakers who roamed the playroom, performing spontaneous diaper checks or taking foals for naptime in a small room to Holder’s left.

“While the regular collars, bells, and medallions are still a requirement while playing in the daycare, we have our own additional identification system here at Grassy Fields,” Bottle explained. “Our diapers are especially made to the specifications of their users, making sure their caretakers know just what to expect when they check their rumps to see how much of a mess they’ve made!”

He caught the eye of a stallion in a ball pit in the corner of the room, smiling and motioning for Holder to follow along as he confidently stepped over the ponies sprawled out on the foam-padded floor and looked down at the adult colt, who babbled and played with the colorful balls. He was a blue pegasus with yellow streaks in his otherwise pure white mane.

“I’ll use little Cool Breeze to show you how it all works!” he said, looking at the stallion. “Like all good diapers, our padding has wetness indicators to make our diligent caretakers’ lives just a little bit easier.”

Bottle used his earth pony strength to lift the relatively light pegasus stallion from the ball pit, being sure to grab him just like one would a foal by placing his hooves under his armpits and letting him wiggle in the air while he dragged him from the sea of plastic. He held him up with his rump facing the mare, showing off his pink, frilly diaper, which had a large yellow stain spreading across it. Unlike Bottle’s wetness indicators, Holder could see that the smudged graphics running down the center of the diaper once displayed the image of tiaras and bunnies.

“The waistband of the diaper displays various colors to show caretakers what kind of attention they’ll need to give the foals as well as how they like to spend their playtime,” he told her. “White markings show that the foal prefers to stay clean, yellow means to expect them to leak and brown shows that they may be a little mushbutt from time to time,” he explained, gesturing to Breeze’s yellow and pink waistband.

Holder rarely indulged in scat play, so she was more familiar with the yellow and white graphics; though she had dealt with her fair share of mess, she often found it far too repulsive.

Bottle, on the other hoof, commonly wore a brown and yellow waistband, though usually made sure it was only yellow during his time with Holder.

She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a notebook, quill, and inkpot, dabbing the tip in the black fluid and starting to write on the pad to trigger hypnotic suggestion she’d placed in Bottle’s mind in preparation for the scene just a few days earlier.

Bottle opened his mouth to continue speaking but found his words caught in his throat as a trickle of warm pee squirted into his diaper. A blush spread across his face as he cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the soft ‘pssh’ of the liquid hitting the plastic before soaking into the hyper-absorbent padding. Holder smiled innocently at him, having finished her writing and put away her tools.

“Go on~,” she prompted, glancing at his crotch to remind him that she knew exactly what just happened.

Bottle regained his composure and continued his explanation. “Additionally, pink marks show that a little one likes to dress up in pretty pink dresses and be treated like the little filly they know they are deep down inside, even if they complain when their grown-up cages up their pesky colt bits, and of course ble marks for the fillies who prefer to be colts. Finally, if you see a green waistband, that means that the foal has decided to take a break from grown-up games, and shouldn’t be taken out of the playroom, changing room and nap room.”

Breeze’s diaper squished audibly as Bottle plopped his rump on the floor, making him giggle as he wiggled in his soaked padding. Her tour leader conspicuously slipped a hoof into the back of the diaper, making an exaggerated mock gasp as he felt the wetness inside.

“Wow! You’ve really soaked yourself haven’t you!” he said to the colt, who blushed slightly and smiled proudly up at him.

“Uh-huh!” he said, nodding quickly.

“Well then, we best get you changed!” Bottle told him, lifting him onto his back and picking up a crumpled princess’ dress that sat discarded on the floor before setting off towards a second set of double doors at the the back of the the room. A large sign with the words ‘changing room’ sat above the doors, which Bottle swung open to reveal a long hall with two rows of adult-sized changing tables on either side.

Various foals lay on the tables with caretakers standing over them. They giggled and squirmed as the ‘older’ ponies tickled under their arms and blew raspberries on their bellies.

“Welcome to the changing room!” Bottle said, finding a free table to lay Breeze.

The pegasus kicked his hind legs as he reached towards the mobile that hung above him, styled after the solar system. Bottle gave it a soft tap to make it spin slowly, making him giggle as he watched twirl and swing.

Reaching into the cabinet that sat beside the table, Bottle pulled out two different diaper designs.

The first was a dark blue one, the front was decorated with the symbols of the popular superheroes, the Power Ponies, and the wetness indicators were styled after the villains that every colt and filly was familiar with.

The second was the same as the soaked diaper that was still wrapped around Breeze’s waist, pink with large frills which folded out behind the wearer as he or she used it and wetness indicators made to look like cartoon tiaras and bunny rabbits.

“Which one do you want?” Bottle asked as he gently removed the tapes on Breeze’s diaper, making it squish as the yellow padding flopped off of his crotch.

Looking closer, Holder could see that his sheath had a cage locked around it, stopping him doing anything more than squirm every time he felt the urge to touch himself. The stallion giggled as cold air brushed his sensitive crotch, the cage twitching as his cock pushed against its cage desperately.

He pawed at it with his hooves, still staring up at the other stallion as he whined in complaint. Bottle quickly pulled his hooves away.

“Now now, good little girls don’t touch their pesky colt parts, do they?” he teased.

“I-I iz nawt a girl!” the pegasus complained.

“Lying gets you spankies, remember~.”

Breeze squeaked, a blush spreading across his face as he stopped struggling against his caretaker’s magic.

“Now, which diapee do you want next, sweetie?” Bottle asked, tickling his tummy a little to distract him from his twitching sheath.

“D-Da bloo one!”

“Really? I don’t think a good little sissy filly would want a diaper worn by icky boys. Don’t you wanna be a good sissy?” he asked, wiggling the pink diaper in the air to draw his attention to it.

A look of conflict flashed across Cool Breeze’s face, followed by a resigned sigh as he closed his eyes and nodded.

“I-I wanna be a good s-sissy…” he muttered.

“What was that? Use your words, you can do it!”

“I-I wanna be a good sissy!” he shouted, causing everypony in the room to stop what they were doing and look over in his direction for a moment before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Breeze blushed as Bottle patted his head affectionately. “Good girl!” he said, sliding his used diaper out from under him, lifting his hind legs to quickly wipe the excess pee from his rump. He pulled a bottle from the cabinet and covered his caged crotch with a layer of white foal powder.

He leaned down, placing his lips on the stallion’s exposed belly and blowing a loud raspberry, making Breeze squeal and giggle as he flailed in a futile attempt to get his caretaker to stop.

Deciding to stop the torture, Bottle pulled away from Breeze’s squirming barrel and slid the new, clean padding beneath his rump.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl!” he teased, reaching down and unlocking the cage on his sheath.

Breeze squealed happily, his hooves shooting towards his crotch as his cock quickly shot to attention. Bottle caught his hooves, making the colt whine in desperation.

“Now now, you’ll get your treat soon enough~”

His hooves skillfully pulled the new diaper through his legs and held it and folded the crinkly wings of the diaper around him, securely sticking the tapes to the landing pad. The PipSub attached to his foreleg lit up for a moment, the colors of the pink waist band quickly morphing to show a checkered pattern of yellow in addition to the pastel pink of the rest of the padding. At the same time, his tapes glowed as the symbol of a lock appeared upon them before quickly fading away, making sure he couldn’t remove his own tapes.

Stepping back to admire his work, Bottle looked over the blushing, giggling colt to make sure that he wouldn’t leak (for now).

Holder felt her nethers tingling at the sight of the stallion lying helplessly on the changing table. A bead of liquid arousal dripped down her hind legs as she watched him crinkle and hump against the plastic in a desperate attempt to get off.

Bottle chuckled and pulled a baby blue pen from the cabinet, uncapping it and scribbling on the pink landing pad on the front. “There!” he said, sitting the squirming stallion up to show off the front of the diaper, where he’d written ‘sissy’ in large hoofwriting. “Isn’t she cute?” he asked.

“Very cute!” Holder responded as her guide lifted the stallion and slipped him into the pink dress he had picked up from beside the ball pit in the playroom. It was far too short for a grown pony, and the skirt did nothing to hide the poofy pink garment or muffle the loud rustling that came from his rump as he toddled about.

“You want your treat now?” Bottle asked, taking his hoof and leading him past the other changing tables towards a third set of doors this time labeled ‘naughty room’.

“Yes pwease!” Breeze replied, happily hopping along beside the unicorn.

The mare watched the two stallions’ padded rumps sway as they trotted. She began reaching into her saddlebags with her magic.

Bottle glanced over his shoulder at Holder, “Now we get to the fun par-” he stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a familiar scratching behind him.

Holder had taken her quill and parchment out and begun to draw slow, rhythmic circles on the page.

It wasn’t long before Bottle lost control again. He let out a soft squeak and flattened his ears in embarrassment as he soaked his padding with hot piss, making it bulge and squish as he tried to tense and stop the stream of warm liquid.

Breeze noticed the musky scent of urine from his caretaker, letting go of his hoof and prodding his squishy rump, making him even more aware of how obvious his wetting was.

The rattles on his rump smudged, the images slowly disappearing as he squirted more and more pee into the absorbent nappy wrapped around him.

After what felt like hours, Holder finished ‘taking notes’ and returned her equipment to her saddlebags.

“You were saying?” she said, giving him a knowing smile.

“Y-Yes, uh…” the earth pony stuttered as he regained his earlier confidence, taking Breeze’s hoof once more and proceeding through the door.

“As you may know, our daycare is very… liberal as to what forms of play we allow with our little ones!” he explained as he entered the room.

An angelic chorus of squeaks, moans, and begging greeted Holder’s ears as she stepped into the room. Foals and caretakers were scattered around the hard concrete floor in various states of pleasure and pain.

One unicorn mare-turned-filly stood with her flank pushed high in the air and her pull-ups laying on the floor around her hooves while her ‘Daddy’ stuffed her piss-coated fillyhood with his throbbing shaft.

Holder bit her lip as she watched him coo in her ear.

“You’re being such a good little foal~,” he said as he pulled out before quickly ramming himself back into her.

Another pegasus colt was tied to a spreader bar, his diaper bulged as his cock desperately throbbed against the yellowed front. An earth pony stallion stood behind him with a belt in his mouth.

“What do you say?” the caretaker asked.

“I-I iz sowwy...” the colt replied. A loud ‘whap’ filled the air as the belt slammed against his presented rump.

“What for?”

“F-For stealing F-Final Say’s cookies!” he babbled.

Another spanking.

“And?”

“F-For being b-bwatty and leaking wifout telling yoos!”

He squealed as the belt hit his other flank.

“And what do you deserve?”

“I-I deserve to be p-pwunished!”

His head flung back as he screamed and moaned while the caretaker went to town on his padded flanks, whipping him with the firm belt again and again.

Holder tore her eyes away from the scenes before her, instead focusing on what Bottle was doing with Breeze.

He led the colt to a set of hoofcuffs that were bolted to the floor, nudging him to step into the shackles so that he could clamp the cuffs around his hind legs.

“Why won’t you bind his forehooves?” Holder enquired, peering down at the helpless, quivering colt.

“We like to reward our foals for playing nice, but learning is always a priority here at Grassy Fields,” Bottle explained, quickly moving to a table to the group’s right which housed rows and rows of foal bottles filled with a white fluid.

Various symbols were printed on the bottles, indicating that not all of the ‘milk’ was the same. Bottle grabbed a bottle emblazoned with a large, yellow star.

“Today’s lesson will be… stamina.” he teased, placing the Bottle between the pegasus’ hooves and making his front end drop to the ground and his flank push up as he greedily grabbed it and began to suckle.

“That’s it, drink up little one,” he cooed as the colt greedily suckled on the rubbery teat of the bottle. His face flushed as he struggled against his bindings a little, humping desperately at his padding, which he’d wet slightly sometime between the changing room and the room they were in.

He whined desperately as Bottle turned to a box beside the drinks table labelled ‘toys’. He hummed as he searched through the box and pulled out a strange harness-like apparatus.

The stallion used his earth pony strength to stop his ‘victim’ from squirming as he wrapped the leather around Breeze’s waist. Holder felt the heat in her nethers grow as she realised what it was for.

A long cylindrical device pressed against the front of Breeze’s diaper, held firmly in place by the leather harness, pressing against the impressive bulge his fully erect cock made as it twitched beneath the plastic.

Bottle finished rigging the harness to his body, stepping back to see how much the foal had drunk from his bottle.

“Good girl, you can drink the other half when you’re ready!” he said, making the colt smile at the praise.

He chuckled softly as he pressed a button on the base of the base of the harness, right over where his pucker would be if not covered by his poofy nappy. Holder noticed a dial sitting just below the button, with a small line pointing to the word ‘reward’.

A soft buzz filled the air as a magical aura surrounded the device, making the rubbery head of the cylinder vibrate softly against his throbbing shaft.

Breeze threw his head back and let out a long, girly moan as the vibrator filled his body with pleasure. His wings shot out from his sides as he resisted the urge to cum as best he could.

“Wh-What was in that bottle?” Holder asked, her tail lifting as she smelled the colt’s musk, showing off her soaked, winking pussy.

“Starbright, Stampede along with a shot of our very own Sunshower to loosen up his bladder!” We call it Gold Star. most of our caretakers like to use it to reward little ones for a job well done,” Bottle said.

Holder was very aware of the purpose of Sunshower and Gold Star. She’d both used it on others as well as had it used on her. The magical cocktail used a combination of unicorn and Zebra magic to make your bladder refill at a constant rate, even if a pony was only drinking little fluids.

Breeze whined as the increased sensitivity and the fact that he had been desperate to get off for hours while locked in his tight cage caused him to quickly reach his limit. He humped and throbbed against the vibrator as cum leaked from the top of his diaper and dribbled to the floor.

The sissy colt squimed on the spot, tugging even more on his bindings as a new feeling grew in his crotch.

“Oh, does the little girl need help to make pee in her diapee?” Bottle cooed as he reached beneath the colt and gave his exposed lower belly a firm poke.

A blush spread across his face as a stream of hot pee shot from his cock and began to stain the front of his diaper a deep yellow, wicking to the back and spreading across his rump as the wetness indicators smudged a little.

“What do we say, little sissy?” Bottle cooed, brushing a strand of the ‘filly’s messy mane from his face.

“T-Tank yoo for helping me go pee pee, Mister Bottle...” he managed to say between lustful pants and sighs of relief.

“Good girl.”

The stallion rotated the dial on the base of the harness to ‘milk’. The rounded head of the device began to pump up and down his still mostly-erect cock, quickly bringing him back to full mast and reducing him to a quivering mess as it quickly brought him back to the edge of his climax.

“Shall we move on? I have a feeling this little one will be enjoying her reward for the rest of the evening, and I’m sure the other caretakers will be more than happy to help her out,” he said, nodding to a maid nearby and glancing at him, making sure she’d keep an eye on him until a caretaker arrived to continue teasing him.

He led the unicorn to a more discrete, plain black door with no distinct features other than the outline of a book with a spiral on the cover engraved in gold on the front of it.

The two ponies looked at each other for a moment. Holder removed from her saddlebag a dom medallion made from a blue translucent crystal and pressed it to the door. Bottle nodded and flicked his tail, making his bell ring softly.

The door responded to this by creaking as it swung open to reveal a set of stairs leading deep into the bowels of the society. Dull green light painted the steps, contrasting the bright, friendly lighting of the room behind them.

“After you, Miss Holder!” Bottle said, stepping aside and gesturing towards the staircase.

“Wh-Where does this lead? And I told you to drop the ‘miss’!” she said, hesitantly stepping down the stairs.

“This staircase will lead us to the most fun part of our little daycare, the hypnosis rooms!” Bottle responded, closing the door behind him as he joined her in trotting down the steps.

Holder wiggled excitedly as she quickly made her way down the stairs. She’d been waiting for this part of the ‘tour’ for weeks!

The muffled sounds of ponies moaning and grunting in the naughty room behind her slowly faded as she descended, leaving only the sound of her hooves clicking on the stone of the stairs.

Finally, they reached another door the same as the one they’d just come through, prompting them to verify themselves once more.

As Bottle’s bell echoed in the stairwell, the door swung open to reveal a room occupied by a few pairs of doms and subs, each with their own crystals in full view to show. Two maids sat at a desk at the opposite side of the room to where the pair entered, carefully watching the submissives.

Eahc sub’s eyes looked unfocused and distant, staring blankly at their doms and the implements they were using to take them into a deep trance.

Doors led to a changing room to the left of the desk and ‘green area’ to the right. The babying guild’s familiar ‘pacifier and bottle’ was displayed prouldly on the wall. Beside it was the same ‘book of spirals’ insignia that was emblazoned upon the safety doors, the symbol of the hypnosis guild, the Storytellers. The rest of the walls were covered in wallpaper similar to the type used in the main daycare, but instead of diapered playing, the clearly submissive babies stared into the eyes of unpadded ponies larger than them, locked in a trance.

“Welcome to the hypnosis room!” Bottle said, stepping into the room. “Our hypnotists are trained by the best trainers the Storyteller guild has to offer in order to giveour little colts and fillies who have forgotten just how young and helpless they really are the best potty-untraining and foalification services possible!”

“Young and helpless, like you?” Holder asked innocently, reaching into her bag with her magic once more.

Bottle blushed softly, “W-Well, not me, I’m grown, so I don’t require this room!” he stuttered.

“Really? If you’re so grown, then why is your diaper so soaking wet?” she asked, drawing her quill and parchment from her bag and starting to slowly scratch.

Bottle’s mind had already been worn down by the previous triggering of the mental conditioning Hoof Holder had performed on him in preparation for the scene, meaning he showed no resistance as he emptied the last of his bladder into his already soaking wet padding.

“W-Well, I… Mmph~” he started to say before he was cut off by the feeling of Holder’s lips against his interrupted his excuse.

Holder smirked as she broke the kiss, drawing a bottle of Gold Star from her bag and setting it to the side as she continued to scribble on the parchment. His PipSub lit up as it recognised the signs of its owner’s mind starting to cloud.

“M-Mith Holder, I-I don’t tink yoo understand, I-I iz only a tour guide, I’m n-nawt like dese odder fwoals!” he babbled, the hypnosis starting to work away at his ability to speak.

“I thought I told you not to call me ‘Miss’!” Holder said sternly, making Bottle’s ears flatten in submission. She leaned in close. “Mommy is more than fine,” she whispered, making the stallion whimper.

“N-Noes…” he muttered.

Holder tutted. “If you’re going to be a naughty little girl and tell Mommy ‘no’ then I guess you just won’t get a treat later!” she said as she pulled away from his ear, motioning to the bottle on the floor beside her.

The stallion gasped, his eyes locking to the bottle as he whimpered in frustration.

“Oh? So you do want a treat after all!” she said, picking up the bottle and shaking it in front of him.

“Y-Yesh pweese!” he said, reaching out for the milk.

The mare jerked it away from him. “Yes please who?” she asked, floating her quill and paper closer to his ear as the tip dragged across the page.

The stallion shook his head.

“Yoo iz nawt my Mommy! I-I iz grown upz!”

“Are you sure?~” she asked, taking the bottle further from his hooves.

“S-Supah sure!” he said.

Holder slowly tipped the bottle towards her mouth, taking a single, slow suck to draw just a few spurts of the magically warmed milk from the teat.

“Mmm, this milk tastes sooo good! It’s a shame you’re missing out on how good it feels when it splashes in my tummy...” she said in a patronising tone.

Bottle sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes as he watched his milk slowly drain away. “P-Pwease give me da milkies, M-Mommy!” he cried, throwing his head back and sitting on his rump with a squish.

Holder immediately stopped drinking, rushing to the stallion’s side to pull him into a tight hug as she offered him the bottle, which he quickly snatched from her magical aura and suckled on greedily.

“There there, sweetie~” Holder cooed, placing the tip of her quill on the back of his neck, gently pressing it against his spine. “See how easy it is when you just do as Mommy says?” she said, starting to slowly drag the quill down his neck.

“U-Uh-huh…” he muttered around the rubbery nipple in his muzzle.

“It’s so easy to just let go and let Mommy worry about everything, so easy to give up control.”

He squirmed as the clocktail began to affect his body, making him squeak and moan while he humped and ground against his soggy padding.

The mare pressed a hoof between his legs, feeling a wiry cage locked around his sheath.

“D’aww, is my little girl all tingly down there?” she teased, biting her lip as she felt her juices pooling beneath her rump. The quill continued making its way down his spine as he finished draining the bottle of every drop of his milk.

“Do you feel my quill writing on you, sweetie? Writing over your mind? Don’t you want to just give up and let Mommy’s quill tell you how to be a good little baby girl?”

His face reddened as he huffed in protest at the words ‘little girl.’ “Bah boo--” he tried to say, finding that only foalish babbling slipped past his lips, “Da! Gah!” he sputtered, his tears from earlier returning.

“Shh, shh…” she whispered, brushing the tears from his eyes and gently stroking his mane. “You don’t need to speak to let Mommy take care of you!” she said as she pulled him onto her lap and cradled him like a small foal. Her magic pushed against his lower belly, just like he did to Breeze with his hoof upstairs just moments earlier.

He whimpered and babbled as her touch calmed him, each soft stroke sending a wave of happiness and arousal through his body as his drink made the intensity every slight sensation increase tenfold.

Not long after he finished his milk, Holder began to feel a new wet sensation spreading across her lap. She looked into his half-lidded eyes as she heard him huff a sigh of relief.

Glancing down, she smiled as she saw a stream of yellow piss flowing from the sides of his over-filled diaper, soaking her hind legs in his musk.

“Wow! You had a lot of pee pee saved up in that widdle bladder of yours, didn’t you!” she said in an exaggerated happy voice. “See, doesn’t it feel nice to lose control like a good little girl?”

The colt giggled at her voice, grinning proudly at being called a ‘good girl.’

“Now, I think it’s changie time, don’t you?” she teased, standing up and floating him to his hooves.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he stumbled to find his balance, the hypnotic conditioning stripping him of almost all of his motor skills.

“Come on, you can do it!” Holder encouraged, gently steadying him with a hoof.

He poked his tongue out as he firmly planted his hooves on the floor before grinning proudly up at his Mommy.

“Good girl! Now, follow me and we’ll get you changed up!” she said. She trotted in the direction of the changing room.

She used her magic to nudge him upright as he toddled along behind her, babbling incoherently at the other foals as he left a trail of yellow liquid in his wake.

The hypnosis section’s changing room was the same as the regular one in style, featuring the same rows of changing tables, diaper pails and cabinets.

Holder picked her colt up and laid him upon one of the change tables, giggling as he stared at the mobile above him, which was styled as a hypnotic swirl instead of the planets of the mobiles they’d seen earlier. She spun the mobile, keeping his dulled mind focused on the slowly turning image which drew him deeper and deeper into his already heavy trance.

Peeling the tapes away from his ruined padding, she licked his lips as she saw his sensitive cock pushing at the cage he’d locked himself in prior to the tour’s commencement.

“Looks like widdle Baby Bottle Junior wants to make stickies, isn’t that right?” she asked, making him moan softly as she prodded at the cage. “Do you think you could do that for Mommy?” she said, pushing her hoof against the cage firmly.

He broke his attention from the hypnotic mobile above him as pleasure shot through his body.

“Go on, sweetie, be a good filly and make stickies with your tiny girl-cock!” she encouraged. He whined desperately as he humped at his cage, drops of sticky pre dripping through the wire and spreading across his crotch.

Holder pressed a hoof to his warm padding, soaking her hoof in his piss. She caught a few drops of his pre and rubbed it between her hooves before pressing the hoof against his tight pucker, making him squeak as it stretched around the tip. “Come on, little filly, make lots of stickies for Mommy!” she cooed, pushing only the edge of her hoof against his tailhole, making it spread slightly.

His back arched as the enhanced sensation of her firm hoof quickly pushed him over the edge. He squealed and babbled with pleasure as cum shot from his caged cock, the wiry metal causing it to spray and coat his chest, sides and the soft table below.

“Mmm, such a good girl,” Holder cooed, pulling her hoof from his tailhole with a wet squelch before cleaning it with a few squirts of hoof sanitizer from the cabinet of changing supplies.

Bottle panted and gazed at his Mommy with the same half-lidded, unfocused eyes as the entranced foals they’d seen as they entered the hypnosis room. He smiled weakly at the praise, his cage twitching as the last shot of cum painted his coat.

Wanting to test that her hypnosis had completely worked, she pulled two diapers from the cabinet with the same designs that Bottle had teased Breeze with earlier in the tour.

“Point to the one you want, sweetheart!” she said, holding them both above him and waggling them enticingly.

Almost immediately, his hooves shot towards the pink, frilly nappy. He chattered excitedly in his indecipherable foalish language, grabbing desperately at the padding.

Holder smiled warmly. Her hypnosis worked! Not only was he totally obedient, but he showed none of the usual embarrassment that he usually displayed when being treated like a filly.

“Alright, alright, stop being so wiggly so Mommy can clean you up!” she instructed, making him stop dead still, pulling a silly face and trying to hold back his giggles as she pulled out a wet baby wipe and carefully cleaned his crotch of piss and cum.

She left the cumstains on his chest and belly, cleaning only what she needed to before sliding his sodden, decidedly gender-neutral white diaper off and replacing it with his new, girly garment.

“Do you wanna go play now?” she asked, seeing his face light up at the word ‘play’ while she firmly taped the crinkling padding around his waist and watched his PipBuck light up to change the waistband and lock his tapes.

Lifting him in her magic, she pulled from the cabinet a dress similar to the one Breeze wore and slipped him into it. Its candy pink frills and a short skirt that did nothing to hide his padded rump. She placed a silver plastic tiara atop his head and popped a pacifier with the word ‘princess’ written on its front into his mouth.

He squealed with happiness as she set him back on the floor and once again used a little magic to help him find his hooves.

“Okay, let’s go upstairs and show off what a good sissy you’ve been!” she said, leading him out of the changing room and back through the hypnosis room, grabbing her saddlebags on the way out.

She winked at one of the four maids before swinging open the door to the staircase leading back to the naughty room and stepped past, waiting for the colt to catch up before grabbing him in her magic and swinging the door behind her as she helped the stallion-gone-toddler up the steps.

As soon as the door clicked, the PipSub on his forehoof beeped softly as a timer appeared on its interface. They had another hour before she was to break his trance, and she fully intended to make it count.

After slowly but surely making their way back up the dark staircase, they swung the second safety door open and stepped into the naughty room, greeted by the lustful chorus of stallions, mares, colts and fillies alike.

More than a few ponies noticed the pair re-enter the room, caretakers staring at Holder with a mix of lust and jealousy while the other foals giggled and pointed at Bottle, who squeaked shyly and blushed furiously.

Of the ponies staring was a still-bound, yet considerably more unkempt Cool Breeze. His empty bottle of Gold Star rolled on the floor beside him while a half-finished bottle with the crudely drawn symbol of a dumbbell printed upon it sat just out of his reach.

A trail of a sticky, off-white fluid dribbled from the corner of his mouth and his dress had been hastily removed from his body and tossed aside, covered in cum. His diaper was almost completely full, a few drops of golden liquid dripping down his leg and onto the cuffs below him.

His eyes lit up as he noticed the pair trotting towards him, a weak smile forming on his face as he grabbed at the bottle fruitlessly in a desperate request to have the caretaker give it to him.

Holder giggled at his desperation, gently tapping the bottle and rolling it to him. “Do you wanna play princes and princesses with widdle Baby Bottle? She really wants to play with you, don’t you sweetie?” she asked, looking to the embarrassed colt beside her, who nodded quickly in confirmation.

“Y-Yes pwease! Can I be da pwince?” Breeze said excitedly before quickly downing every last drop of the stamina milk, which the daycare called ‘Sugar Rush’.

“Of course you can!”

With a flick of her horn, Holder’s magic flicked the latches of the two hoofcuffs keeping the colt locked in, letting him stretch out as the milk quickly rejuvenated him. The vibrator harness still buzzed against the front of his pink, soaking wet diaper, making him squirm and moan every now and again.

Holder guided Bottle to stand in the same spot as the pegasus had occupied, quickly locking the cuffs firmly around his back hooves. He tilted his head and babbled questioningly. What kind of ‘princes and princesses’ game were they going to play that would make him need cuffing?

He whined a little as she pulled his pacifier from his mouth, pushing the nipple a new bottle of Gold Star into his mouth to let him suckle for just a moment to top him up. Making sure he didn’t drink too much, she set the bottle aside and trotted around to his rump.

She placed her hooves on the back of his diaper and pulled it down firmly, making it crinkle as it hit the floor around the cuffs that locked him in place and exposing her colt’s rump and caged sheath. She undid the shoulder straps of his dress, plopping it next to Breeze’s own sodden costume.

Leaving him to stew in embarrassment as the other foals in the room stared at his bare flank, she kissed Breeze on the forehead, gently pushing him onto his back and undoing the tapes on the sissy nappy from his body, letting it squish on the floor, revealing his unrestrained shaft.

Her magic plucked a bottle of lube from her bag, squirting a little on each hoof before she began to rhythmically rub the viscous fluid up and down his shaft. He squeaked and moaned with each rub, his own dosage of Gold Star enhancing the feeling of her firm hooves massaging his length.

“Don’t make stickies yet, a prince should save all of his naughty gifts for his little sissy princess,” she told him, making him nod in agreement as he bit his lip to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm.

Just as she felt him reach the very edge of orgasm, she quickly pulled her hooves away and stood, lifting the once-sissy pegasus to his hooves.

They trotted to the sweaty little colt, who panted and babbled desperately as he reached for the cage which barred him from relieving the funny tingles that pestered his foalish mind. Holder tutted and grabbed the wandering hooves, placing them firmly on the floor in front of him and pushing his head down to make him lift his rump high and present himself to his ‘prince’.

“Now now, sweetheart, a good princess doesn’t need her pesky little colt parts. Don’t you want to be a good little princess for Mommy?” she asked, re-adjusting his tiara.

He stopped struggling and left his hooves far from his crotch. He wanted to be good for his Mommy, and being a princess filled him with pride and joy unlike anything else.

Cool Breeze mounted the docile, sissy stallion, pressing his slippery, lube-covered cock to his tight tailhole. Bottle squeaked as he felt him teasing his sensitive pucker, moaning around the hoof he suckled in his mouth to replace his lost pacifier.

“Just because she’s younger than you and a filly, doesn’t mean you should go easy on her! She’s your princess and she wants to make you feel good, don’t you Bottle?” she told Breeze, who grinned at her as she moved to her colt’s front end.

Breeze reared back, pulling his hips away from Bottle’s rump for just a moment before grunting cutely as he suddenly thrust himself deep into his tailhole.

Bottle let out a long, high pitched squeal as the ‘older’ colt’s cock forced its way into him, making him screw his eyes shut as pain assaulted his body. It wasn’t long, however, before the pain faded to a dull ache.

He forced a proud grin as he looked up at Holder, who gave him a kind smile and a pat on the head in encouragement. “Good girl!” she said, stroking his cheek as the colt behind him huffed and snorted with pleasure.

Breeze had only just begun to push deeper into his princess’ tight depths when he felt the effects of his drink hit him in full force. He blushed and quivered atop the moaning stallion, freezing as he tensed to hold back the flood of piss that threatened to explode inside his warm flank.

Holder smirked, “Does the little prince need to go potty?” she teased.

“U-Uh-huh,” the shaking colt muttered, screwing his eyes shut desperately.

“Just let it all out, your princess is here to make sure not a drop goes to waste!”

The colt whimpered a little, glancing down at the squirming ‘filly’ below him before sighing as he relaxed his bladder.

Bottle giggled at the sensation of being flooded with hot pee, wiggling on Breeze’s shaft as it pumped a steady stream of musky yellow liquid deep into his asshole. He felt it bloat him as it filled him to the brim, overflowing and coursing down his legs before soaking the nappy crinkling around his shaking hooves and running across the slanted floor to a drain in the ground.

Hoof Holder panted. She wasn’t going to be able to take much more of the sight before her without losing her cool and soaking her tail in marecum.

Swiftly downing the rest of Bottle’s Gold Star, she quickly lowered herself to the floor and spread her legs for her colt. Her folds glistened in the light of the room, flooding his nostrils in his Mommy’s sweet, nurturing scent.

“G-Go on, little princess, taste Mommy’s filly parts~,” she said, pushing his head between his legs as Breeze finished filling him with pee and began to thrust deeper into his tight tailhole.

Bottle eagerly did as he was told, pushing his tongue against her lower lips and lapping up the natural lubricant her winking cunny squirted onto his tongue.

“A-Ah, g-good girl,” she moaned, her legs twitching with pleasure as he pushed his muzzle into her cunt and thrust his tongue deep inside her, the enhanced sensations making her fall onto her back as she relaxed into the feeling of being eaten out by her hypnotised little one.

The colt mounting him groaned as he hilted in Bottle’s hole with a loud squelch, causing excess pee to drip from his rump.

The colt began roughly ramming himself in and out of his princess’ firm grip, groaning and gasping with pleasure with each powerful jerk of his hips.

Bottle quickly lost control of his own bladder as Breeze’s hooves gripped his sides and his flare pushed against his prostate. Loud splashing sounds filled the air as pee flowed from his cock and pooled on the floor.

Holder gasped as she smelled his piss, her body surging with raw, sensual ecstasy as the Starbright and Sunshower worked on her body. She writhed and shuddered as her colt plunged his hot tongue in and out of her needy hole.

“R-Ready sweetheart? Mommy’s got a treat for her good widdle princess!” she groaned before a heavy stream of her own urine squirted from her pussy.

Bottle grunted, gasping for air between mouthfuls of his Mommy’s salty golden nectar. He closed his mouth once he’d had his fill, returning to babbling and squealing at the pleasure in his rump as the last of her pee marked his face, mane, and muzzle.

Once her stream faded to a slight trickle, he returned to eagerly flicking his tongue in and out of her tightening marehood. He wanted nothing more than to thank his Mommy for giving him such a delicious treat, and what better way than to help her make stickies like she did for him!

Breeze was the first of the trio to reach his climax, reaming his sissy little princess’ tight hole as it milked him, his cock pushing squirt after squirt of his pee from Bottle’s flankhole and making it splash on the floor. He gave one last powerful stroke of his hips as he came, adding to the slippery fluid that already filled his ‘royal’ cocksock with shot after shot of his gooey, potent seed.

Cum squirted around Breeze’s shaft, thick globules of his cream painted both his the princess’ hind legs and dribbled to the floor. He held himself inside the colt, snorting and grunting as he jerked his hips to milk as much cum out of himself as possible.

The sound of a stallion’s dominant sounds of climax pushed Holder into a state of delirium as she hit her own peak, she screamed as her back arched off of the floor, coating Bottle in even more of her juices as sticky marecum squirted from her winking slit.

Bottle humped at the air through his cage, each squirt of marecum and shot of colt milk threatening to put him over the edge.

Still shaking with her orgasm, Holder managed to reach into her saddlebags with her pleasure-weakened magic and pull her quill and parchment to the colt’s ear, making one final scratch against the page as she moaned her last order. “C-Cum for Mommy,” she muttered.

That was all he needed.

He threw his head back, making his tiara clatter on the floor and squealing as his colthood throbbed against his cage again and again. Hot cum squirted from his barely exposed cocktip, splashing in the puddle of piss below him as he ground himself against Breeze’s softening cock, desperate to ride out his orgasm as much as he could.

After what felt like an age, the intense pleasure rolling through him from his crotch turned to a soft buzz of afterglow while Breeze’s cock flopped out of his tailhole.

Holder quickly slid his diaper, which was sodden with Breeze’s piss and cum, back up to his rump with her magic, making sure to lock as much of the ‘prince’s royal fluids inside Bottle’s cock-loosened ass.

“G-Good girl! You did so well~” Holder panted, pulling both of them into a tight hug.

They all lay in the pool of various liquids, regaining their spent energy as they snuggled and nuzzled each other. Breeze breathed a deep sigh as he drifted to sleep, having had what felt like hours of stimulation both in and out of his diaper.

A foal-less caretaker approached the exhausted trio, a stallion with his own crystal medallion in full view.

“I can take the sleepy one off your hooves if you like, I’m sure a nap is long overdue after what your devious little one put him through.” he said, pointing a hoof at Bottle, who giggled and babbled innocently at the attention.

Holder giggled, tickling his tummy and making him squeal with laughter for a moment. “That would be great, I’ll owe you one!” she said, smiling at the stallion who picked up the snoring colt and carried him towards one of the bathrooms behind her.

After a while of cuddling, the warmth began to evaporate from the pool of urine and cum that they lay in, prompting Holder to stretch and drag herself to her hooves along with Bottle, who whined in a complaint as he was forced to use his exhausted muscles.

She checked the timer on his PipBuck. They still had forty-five minutes of their session remaining. She didn’t intend to waste it.

“Come on, sweetie, we’ll go get cleaned up,” she said, grabbing her saddlebags and replacing the lube, tiara, quill, and parchment back inside them before grabbing his discarded dress. She then began leading the colt to a bathroom of their own.

The bathroom contained a washbasin, bath, shower, toilet (not that it was often needed) as well as a changing table for foals who prefered to change in a more private setting. In the cupboard below the sink were boxes of plastic waterproofers for foals of all sizes, made to lock out water and make sure a foal could still have their own ‘golden shower’ after being cleaned.

Holder locked the door behind them as they entered, grabbing one of the yellow tinted, see-through plastic covers and plucking her charge from the ground. He giggled as he wiggled his hooves in the air while she slipped the elastic leg bands around his haunches.

“There we go! Ready to get all squeaky clean?” she asked, making his happy mood sour almost instantly.

He broke into tears as she turned on the shower, flailing wildly in her grip as he cried out. There was no way he was getting in that shower!

Holder raised an eyebrow. “Baby Bottle. You know what tantrums get you?” she said, lightly tapping his rump with a hoof to remind him what kind of punishment he could earn if he continued to complain.

He squeaked and bit his lip, sobbing a little as he ceased his flailing and let his Mommy wipe his eyes with the same hoof she’d just scolded him with.

“Good girl, now, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, stepping into the warmth of the shower.

She squirted his body with mane, coat and tail shampoo, rubbing it in gently with her hooves before using a nearby soft brush to scrub him clean.

“Eyes closed, sweetie!” she instructed, moving on to his face. She took some facial coat soap and worked into his cheeks and muzzle, letting the pee and marecum that stained his fur wash away.

“You are being such a good girl!” she cooed, his grin lighting his face.

Setting him on the floor of the large shower, she quickly worked over her own body in the same way as she did to him.

Shutting off the faucet, she quickly grabbed one of the folded towels that sat on a nearby towel rail and dried them both off, making their coats fluffier.

Picking up a pair of brushes in her magic, she led him to the mirror above the sink and began straightening their coats.

“Do you want Mommy to do your mane, sweetheart?” she asked, making him gasp and nod excitedly.

She lovingly worked her magic through his mane, curling it and giving him a slight fringe before placing his tiara atop his head once more. She p

“There! Do you like it?” she asked, prompting him to break into a fit of happy giggles and excited babbles.

“Good!” she said, turning and heading for the door. “How about we do some coloring in?” she asked as she put him back in his slightly pee-stained dress, letting him through the door first so she could watch to ensure he didn’t fall over as he toddled along eagerly with the sole objective of getting to the playroom to color as quickly as possible.

They made their way back to the naughty room, trotting through the changing room and stepping into the bustling playroom.

Her eyes spotted a pair of free seats next to each other at one of the many coloring tables that were set up in the coloring zone to their left. She pointed to it and watched as a look of pure joy crossed her colt’s face as he dashed for the table as fast as his hypnotically-inhibited hooves could carry him.

Helping him to sit up on the colorful plastic chair, she pulled a box of crayons over to him in various states.

They were flavoured, encouraging ponies to chew on them when lost in littlespace without the fear of a nasty wax taste. Unfortunately, this meant that crayons didn’t last long at Grassy Fields.

“Which color do you wanna start with?” she asked, watching as he quickly found a bright pink crayon.

The irony of Baby Bottle picking out a ‘Raponezel’ themed coloring page wasn’t lost on her, but she hid her amusement as she watched him scribble seemingly randomly on the page. His tongue poked from the side of his mouth as he concentrated on coloring Raponezel’s tower pink, inevitably missing the edge of the tower and coloring part of the sky in too.

“Okay, what next?” she asked as he messily tossed aside his crayon.

He laughed and babbled as he finished page after page of coloring. Holder called a maid to pin the drawing to the large pinnable wall that ran down the side of the coloring zone.

After what felt like far too short of a session despite the clock on the wall telling her otherwise, the PipSub around Bottle’s forearm beeped.

Time was up, it was time to break his trance and bring back the grown-up version of Baby Bottle.

She sighed. “Alright sweetie, it’s hometime now…” she said, a hint of regret in her voice as she uttered the trigger to start the process of breaking her hypnotic conditioning. He dropped the crayon he held in his hooves and stared intensely into her eyes.

Her magic flipped open the flap holding her saddlebag closed and drew the parchment and quill from within one last time.

She held up the parchment, showing him the hypnotic spirals she’d made while scribbling on the paper during the tour, letting his eyes lock onto it before she tore the page in half.

He blinked, still dazed as he clung the last of his trance.

Dropping the parchment, she held up the quill in her hooves and paused once again before snapping it cleanly in half.

Bottle gasped as he fell forward into Holder’s open hooves.

“H-Hwoof Holda?” he said, snorting frustratedly as he worked out how to form words again. “Hoof Holder?” he asked again, feeling his tongue start to do as he told it once again.

“How do you feel? Can you stand?” she asked, hugging him tight.

“I-I think so… M-My rump feels sticky...” he said, shakily getting to his hooves with Holder, leaning on her for support.

“You did so well, hun,” she told him, helping him stumble towards the nap room on the other side of the playroom and slip through the door.

The large rest room was filled with rows and rows of oversized cots, each made to allow up to four fully grown ponies to sleep comfortably for as long as they liked (they guild’s management had tried at least five designs before finally finding one that somehow allowed a cot to feel comfortable).

A few couples and herds slept on the beds, others whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears as they rested after a scene.

The pair hobbled to the nearest free bed, the soundproofing of the room instantly silencing the sound of adult foals playing in the room next door as soon as the door closed.

Holder helped her friend to bed, snuggling him tight as his padding squished beneath him. They pulled each other into a tight embrace, nuzzling each other softly.

“Did you want to change?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“I think I can handle staying like this for a few more hours,” he said, wiggling to get comfortable.

“Good girl,” she teased.

“Yeah yeah, live it up now, just wait til you’re begging me to let you wet yourself next time,” he shot back, making her blush and giggle.

After a cuddling for a while, Holder nuzzled his cheek. “Bottle?” she asked, prodding him to make sure he was still awake.

“Yeah?” he said with a short yawn.

“Thanks, you have no idea how many nights I’ve spent dreaming of doing this with you.”

“You’re more than welcome, I’ve done my fair share of dreaming too, you know.”

There was another lull in the conversation for a few precious moments as Holder began to slowly fall asleep.

“Hey, Holder?” the stallion asked, staring into her deep blue eyes.

“Yeah, what?” she replied, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

“I think I’m in love with you.” he said before firmly pressing his lips to hers and letting sleep take him.

Holder lay awake, totally stunned by his words. Her mind went totally blank as her face flushed red, only one thought ringin through her mind.

I wonder if he’ll call me ‘Mommy’ when we go on dates?

A Day At RootCon by Moonsaber (BDSM, Tentacles, Public Sex)

Author's Note

Written by dom extraordinaire Moonsaber for his wonderful pets, Aliax, Serena and Chip. Be sure to visit his page and give him a follow as thanks!

Contains: Public Sex, Tentacles, BDSM

A Day At RootCon by Moonsaber (BDSM, Tentacles, Public Sex)

“Master, Master, Master!” High pitched voices cried out, the tones off just enough for one to conclude they belonged to different ponies. A bat stallion and pegasus stallion emerged from two separate doors and made a dash towards their target. Their eyes were focused on a medium sized lump located on a large four poster bed. The two hopped on, still chanting as they began to hop up and down next to the lump.

The lump groaned, a bit of brown mane appearing out from under the covers, and waved a scaley arm that ended with a dragon-like hand “Ugh...five more minutes…”

The bat-pet let out a soft whine. “But Master! You promised we would be going to RootCon first thing in the morning.”

The pegasus nodded. “Yeah and we were really good and made sure to only get you up when we saw sunlight, just as you told us.”

The lump let out another groan as he shuffled, removing the sheets. A blue earth pony stallion stared blankly at nothing before looking over at the nearby clock. “It's only 7:00. The con doesn’t start till 8.” The two wing ponies let out a soft groan of disappointment, though they stopped when they saw the tired smile forming on the earth stallion’s face. He brings his dragon arm up and waves at them “Go on and get yourselves ready you two.”

“Eeeeee” Both squealed before they flew back to their rooms. The bat-pet entered a room that had a plaque with “Aliax” engraved on it, while the pega-pet went through the door with “Chip” written on it.

“How those two have so much energy…” The stallion chuckled “Well Moonsaber, might as well check on your other pets.”

Pulling himself out of the sheets, he hopped down onto the floor and took a moment to stretch his legs. He felt his muscles loosening up as bones popped into place. Shaking his head to clear the last of the sleep from his eyes; he started to walk past the two doors belonging to his two winged pets. He heard the sounds of zippers being pulled as a warm smile graced his lips.

He stopped at the third door, this one more machine-like than the other three with a series of symbols on it, though he knew that they spell out the name ‘Serena’. He looked down at the keypad and entered the code before he pushed the door open. Inside was a large open area that had a terminal placed near the center and several containers off to the left. The back wall, right wall, and ceiling were glass, and provided more than enough light for the room. He looked around, doing a quick check as he made his way towards the center and the pile of pillows.

There, resting on them, was an earth mare with a bright red coat and orange flames around her hooves. Upon getting closer one could see that the coat wasn’t made of fur, but had a sheen to it that was not unlike polished metal. Coming over the mare, he leaned down to her ear. “Wake up, my robo-pet.”

The mare opened her eyes and he saw those metallic blue lights shining brightly. A smile formed on her face as she lifted her head up to nuzzle his neck. “Mmm. Morning Master.”

He returned the nuzzle, scratching behind her metal ears with his hand, which resulted in a soft coo from her. “Time to get up now. My bat-pet and pega-pet are already awake and getting ready. Run a full diagnostic of your systems and be prepared to leave with outfit number four in one hour.”

“Yes Master.” Serena smiled as she got up from her pile of pillows and moved over to the closet nearby. Nodding his head, he moved back to the entrance and left her to get ready.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the second to last door. This door was the same as the first two, and was engraved with the name ‘Ruby’. He gently opened the door so as to not disturb the pony inside. The room was still dark despite the sunlight coming through the windows. He carefully walked around the room, passing by discarded clothes and objects of questionable but no doubt sexual nature. His nose scrunched up to try and block out the smell as he makes a mental note to schedule a changing time. Reaching the bed, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw the sleeping form of his unicorn pet. Knowing how tired she was from last night, he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “We will be back by the time you wake up my little night owl.” The mare let out a soft grumble before falling silent as he moved back towards the door and left her to her rest.

Back in the main room, he moved over to the front door. Hanging next to it were four leashes, all labeled and color coded. Blue for his bat-pet, green for his pega-pet, black for Serena, and pink for his unicorn pet. Taking the blue, green and black, he placed the leashes around his neck and moves over to where his saddle bags were. Opening them up, he checked that his phaser, crop, paddle, and plugs were all there before closing the bags and placing them on his back. He looked over at the clock and saw that the time was now seven forty-five and sure enough three doors opened up.

His bat-pet was wearing a combination of his maid outfit and his favorite red socks, which contrasted nicely with his blue coat as well as his golden mane and eyes. The earth stallion knew that there would be matching red panties hiding under that outfit. His collar, black just like all of his pets, was clean with his personal padlock, freshly polished.

His pega-pet was also wearing a maid outfit, though his was more to the standard of a Prench maid, which stood out against his black coat. His green eyes were bright and excited, much like his bat-pet’s, as the two skipped towards him.

Serena, whose metallic body stomped lightly against the carpeted floor, wore an outfit that was in line with that of a secretary. Her white blouse and black dress jacket matched well with her leg high fishnet stockings and black mini skirt.

He looked over at the three and smiled. “Not bad you three. Now I want you all to be on your best behavior. There are going to be a lot of ponies around and a lot of exciting stuff. We all stay as a group.”

“Yes Master.” The three pets chorused together.

“Good. If any of us get separated, we wait by the food court. The tentacle pit won’t be till the afternoon so we have time to explore the stands.”

They repeated their understanding and he noticed the excited shifting from his bat-pet and pega-pet. He knew how much those two were looking forward to this. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before attaching their leashes to their collars. Once secured, he grabbed the other end and wrapped it around his dragon hand before turning around and opening the door.

Moonsaber led his pets out of his room and had his robo-pet close the door. He heard the automatic lock securing his room and nodded quickly before walking down the hall towards the main area.

Upon reaching the area, they all saw that RootCon was already underway. Moonsaber smiled as he remembered what this was for. Given the rather secretive nature of the Root level in the Clocktower; not many ponies in the Upper Levels knew much about it or what it offered. RootCon was a time in which elements of the Root came up and showed off what went on down there in a safe, consensual environment. Stalls were run by doms and subs who were considered experts in that particular kink, and the big attraction was opening up the Upper Level to the Root’s famous tentacle pit. It was this event that his bat-pet and pega-pet were most excited for as they had both confessed to him their desire to be used by one. Today was the perfect time to make that desire a reality.

Coming up to the entrance, he presented their passes to the guards. They took a look over each, ensuring they were authentic before allowing them passage. Inside the con, Moonsaber and his pets received guides and a map showing the location of stalls as well as the timetable. “Alright well since the tentacle pit is going to be here.” Moonsaber unfolded his map on his robo-pet’s back and pointed to a large open area. “We will start at the other end and work our way there.”

“But Master, isn’t that a lot of ground to cover? What if we don’t make it in time?” His bat-pet looked at him with large pleading eyes.

He smiled and gently ruffled his head, earning a soft mewl. “It should be alright. Odds are we are going to skip a couple of places and if the time gets too close we can just head straight there.”

His pega-pet chuckles. “I think your bat can’t wait to get tentacle fucked.”

His bat-pet huffs. “Same goes for you. I heard you moaning a few nights ago while playing with that tentacle toy.”

His pega-pet let out an adorable squeak, the sound catching the ears of a few ponies nearby as Moonsaber hid his grin with his hand. Composing himself, he looked over at his robo-pet and gave it a wink, to which she responded with a quick nod. The two each moved to a pet, Moonsaber taking the bat-pet and Serena taking the pega-pet. At the same time, they gave them both a spank, causing two audible gasps and moans.

“Play nice you two, or I might just let my robo-pet use you both to test out its new products.” That got their attention as the two hustled into the neutral position of a well trained slave. He smiled at them before leading his pets down to the stalls.

As the day went on, Moonsaber found himself enjoying the con more than he had anticipated. The highlight was always going to be watching his two pets get fucked hard, but he had thought he would be bored prior to that. Yet as he traveled along the stalls, pausing to examine anything of interest, he found that the ponies who spent most of their time in the Root were quite social. Some were eager to talk about their experiences in great detail, while others offered him helpful advice or suggestions. At one station, he tested out his skills with a paddle on a ‘helpless’ slave who got off on pain, and at another he picked up a guide on rope techniques that would cause his pets to experience pain without actually damaging them.

His bat-pet and pega-pet enjoyed themselves as well. Comfortably resting on his robo-pet’s back, they talked to each other as they pointed out things of interest, such as the stand where a dom and sub were doing Q & A on breeding. and another where one could sign somepony to be kidnapped.

His robo-pet was the only one who seemed uninterested. Then again, it was a sex toy, so everything it saw was already recorded in its databanks. Still it did request permission to buy a battery which the bat stallion claimed could extend a vibrator’s output by thirty percent. Moonsaber had to command it to fall back in line when it started asking really specific and detailed questions.

Before the group knew it, it was time for lunch. They stopped at the lunch area and Moonsaber got food for all of them. He took a salad with chicken strips on top and a light Prench dressing while his bat-pet got a bowl of fruit with some cum dipping sauce. His pega-pet got a funnel cake though Moonsaber was pretty sure that the white stuff on top wasn’t sugar. Finally he gave his robo-pet a mixed drink of cum and oil.

The Master and his three pets enjoyed a relaxing time, with Moonsaber sitting in a chair and his pets lying on the ground to eat their food out of pet bowls. The happy sounds of eating filled the air as they finished up their meal. Once the dishes were taken care of, Moonsaber checked to make sure the leashes were still secure before he took his pets to the open area.

Already there was a small crowd gathered around a roped off area. Standing just inside of the barrier was a unicorn mare with a gray coat and white freckles as well as a messy orange yellow mane. Her collar was a simple design with just enough features to make it her own. Once the crowd had settled down, she smiled before sweeping her hoof out. “Welcome one and all to our tentacle pit party. Here, subs, and perhaps a few doms, are free to try out one of the Root’s main attractions. Now before we get things started there are a few rules to go over.” Her gaze became slightly more intense “First of all, don’t do anything that could cause our monster to panic. It has been trained for longer than most ponies have been alive so it knows what it is doing. It knows the safe word bell sounds, so make sure you all remember them as words will not work with it.” She gestured to a few guards stationed around the zone. “And these guards are here to make sure everything is safe for all.” She looked at the crowd. “Now... who wants to be first?”

Several hooves shot up into the air but Moonsaber’s bat-pet and pega-pet were the most eager. The mare pointed at them. “Seems like you two want to be the first. Well, come on in and get ready for an experience like never before.”

Moonsaber smiled and unhooked the leashes from his bat-pet and pega-pet before the two walked inside the roped off area, the crowd clapping and cheering for them. Everypony watched as the floor started to open up under the unicorn announcer’s magic as several tentacles of various sizes emerged .

Moonsaber looked to his two pets and saw nervousness in their eyes. He’d had a feeling something like this would happen. It was one thing to talk about it and see it from a distance, but another to be up close and in the moment. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on their cheeks. “Master will be right here.” Those words managed to comfort the two enough that they both gave him a soft kiss back as thanks. The earth stallion looked at the unicorn. “Is it possible to have the tentacles not perform any oral. I want to record this moment for my other pet back in my room. Plus, I enjoy hearing my pets’ cute moans as they are ravished.” Moonsaber looked over at his robo-pet and gave it a nod which it returned. Its eyes switch from blue to red as its focus moved to the other two pets.

This earned a squeak from the two. His bat-pet was just about to comment when a single, large tentacle wrapped around their waists. Letting out a surprised gasp, the two were lifted up into the air as the tentacle effectively pinned their wings to their sides. Eight slightly smaller tentacles moved to wrap their slimy appendages around the pets’ legs to keep them from flailing about.

His bat-pet was moved until he would be doing a headstand if he was on the ground, though he was angled so that his blood wouldn’t all rush to his head. Two small tentacles moved to his rear, with one of them pulling down his panties, causing a small epp followed by a gasp as the other lifted his tail out of the way. His cock hung limply in the air, half hard and flopping as his anus clenched with his breathing. A clear tentacle moved to wrap around the shaft, earning a loud gasp from the bat. A further gasp escaped his mouth as he felt two tentacles touch his balls. The stimulation from his cock and balls caused his cute shaft to get to full mast as he did his best to keep his eyes open so he could remember every moment for himself.

Moonsaber’s pega-pet was already in a similar situation. The tentacles moved him onto his back as they pulled down his panties as well. His shaft rested against his chest, though no tentacle move to play with it. Instead the large tentacle around his midsection sprouted smaller tentacles slinked in to touch his bound wings. This made the pega-pet gasp and moan as his shaft grew with every touch until it was resting against his clothed chest.

Moonsaber grinned as he rested against his robo-pet. “Don’t forget to voice your enjoyment for the crowd my pets.”

The two moaned out, but before they could say anything they both felt a large tentacle press against their buttholes. They gasped as they tried to force the tentacles to take them. “Oh please, please do it. Ravage our tight slutty butts!” They chorused as the tentacles did just that.

They both prodded at their holes, loosening themselves up as they both moaned and gasped. Thanks to experience and almost constant use, it didn’t take long for their rosebuds to open up and accept the slimy appendages. Their moans went up half an octave as the sounds of wet squishing became more distinct over the background noise. The tentacles that were fucking them were about average in size and appeared to be a bit transparent as they work themselves faster against the two butts they were fucking.

Moonsaber’s smile grew as he felt his own shaft throb lightly against his chest. Looking around, he noticed quite a few ponies were either getting off themselves or getting off with the closest pony. Soon enough the area around the tentacle pit was close to a massive orgy as the audience’s moan spur the monster on, which of course made the two pets moan louder as they were fucked harder and faster.

His bat-pet was the first to orgasm. The constant sensation along his shaft and balls in addition to his butt getting fucked was too much. Letting out a loud, “EEEE,” he cums right into the tentacle stroking him, the white liquid traveling down to the mass inside of the pit as its nourishment. Moonsaber’s pega-pet, hearing the loud scream of his herdmate cumming, orgasmed shortly after. His shaft bounced against his chest, spraying himself with his own seed and messing up his outfit. The crowd around them let out their own orgasms. Moonsaber was one of the few who remained composed as he moved to pick up his two used pets, who were placed on the ground gently.

He gave each of his pets a nuzzle, whispering words of kindness and encouragement for handling such an ordeal. His robo-pet came over as soon as it finished recording and assisted him in getting his pets back on their hooves, though they were still slightly covered in tentacle fluids, their own cum, and the smell of a good fuck. Their dopey smiles were all that he needed to know that their wait was worth it.

Before they could leave, the unicorn approached him with a shirt in her magical grip. “Something to remember this day.” Taking the shirt, he examined it for a bit before putting it on.

The shirt was a simple black tee with flowing letters that read, “I watched my pet(s) get tentacle fucked at RootCon 2017.” This earned a giggle from his robo-pet, who was now carrying his two other pets. Moonsaber chuckled to himself and gave it a soft smack on its rear. “We better get back so these two can rest and I can use my living toy and see if I can break it again.”

This earned a small (b)eeep from his robo-pet as he lead it back to their room.

Clocktower Training Manual - Torture Play, by Viken666

Author's Note

Written by Viken666, a torture play enthusiast in case you haven't guessed. Please be sure to visit his page and give him a follow as thanks!

Contains: The safety considerations in torture play.

Clocktower Training Manual - Torture Play, by Viken666

Clocktower Training Manual – Torture Play

Excerpt from the clocktower training manual – torture play what you need to know

By torture play instructor and sub, Gina (the griffon)

Hello if you are reading this it means that you are interested in the often misunderstood world of torture play. Now I know a lot of you will hear the word torture and have your mind jump to the dark time in history during the griffon war where prisoners of war were put through horrible suffering to get them to give up information. Get that image out of your head right now, I am here to show you that even a dark and scary role play scenario can be quite fun if done right.

WARNING

This area of kink is dangerous and can result in serious injury if done improperly. For the safety of you and anypony you are playing with, make sure you read this manual thoroughly and understand its content also seek out the torture play guild and consult with them on safety and proper procedure, before attempting anything related to torture play. Your pipsub has all the contact info you need.

Now with that out of the way let's talk torture. Most ponies will think that using a riding crop or whip on the sub constitutes torture play. While this is somewhat true, it barely scratches the surface on what wonders the art of torture play can offer.

The torture guild has an entire area right near the bottom of the dungeons dedicated to torture play. The area consists of torture chambers, prison cells and interrogation rooms for both individual and group public play. In these areas you can find a variety of tools from racks to branding irons (not real one’s these are just iron rods that operate on the same principles as a Master Phaser, though with a higher maximum pain setting).

Getting in
The torture play areas are generally not open to new members of the Society for safety reasons. Society regulations require you to have been a member of the society for more than six months, have past the torture guild's safety and practice training, received a full medical check up to see if you have injuries or conditions that could be exacerbated by torture play and have been given the ok from a crystal torture play badge holder. Only then are you allowed to enter this area of the dungeon. Any attempts to enter this area and engage in torture play before all of the requirements are met will result in disciplinary actions. All of this is done to ensure the safety of our members.

Knowing your limits
It is very important to know what your body can and can not take. You can do this by asking one of the instructors, myself included, to help you find out your limits by a slow test with the torture tools. For example say you wanted to put your sub on a rack first you should let the instructor operate it with your sub attached. Using the medical function of your pipsub they can tell what your body can handle. The rack has an adjustable limiter on it so it will stop at a predetermined point, you should use this to make sure that you can’t accidentally hurt your sub (too much) during your play.

Accidents happen and this is why there is a small dedicated medical area in the torture play area of the dungeon to give immediate attention to anypony that has been injured at any point. The staff there all know how to best treat any injury from any of the torture tools. There is also a large supply of painkillers for subs aftercare.

Role play
A common role play for torture play is to have the sub as a prisoner and the dom as an interrogator who needs information from them. Some ponies like to just have the thrill of the role play and like to be bound to a torture device and be threatened with torture before they break and give up the information before any pain happens. Another common role play is to have the sub as a rebellious slave who needs a heavy duty braking session to turn them into your obedient little slut.

For a dom torture play can give them a strong sense of power and control from knowing that you are expected to hurt the sub.

For a sub the fear of the torture can give them a strong adrenaline and endorphin boost even before the session even starts. This makes the play that much more enjoyable.

Your First Sessions
After you have gotten into the dungeons and have gone through all the safety drills you are almost ready, for your sessions you will be watched by an instructor until you reach the acetalde rank. They will step in and end the sessions if they feel like things are going wrong. Don’t think this is done because you are not trusted it is just if something goes wrong it can lead to severe injuries.

Don’t get carried away if you think your sub is at there limit stop, don’t think “i will try one more turn on the rack and see” that is not the right way to look at torture play. Let me tell you a story of a dom that had convinced himself that his sub was ready to go further with the session, the result was the sub receiving a very bad spinal injury and is now in a wheelchair. The large amount of safety here is done with good reasons.

One last thing pace yourself torture play is hard on the body and doing it all the time can leave you in a bad state. I recommend that you don’t have more that two torture play sessions a week or one heavy session every two weeks. Doms can also get emotionally taxed out by this and should also pace themselves just like the subs.

If you have made it this far and still think torture play is something you would like to get into. you can download the info to your pip sub next time you have it in a pip point that will give them the times and dates of all the necessary orientations and check ups you need to complete. If you would like there are also demonstrations of torture play done by me once a week, I am the white griffon with dark gray stripes.

Writing with Scarlet, by Axolu (Masturbation, Bondage)

Author's Note

Contains: Masturbation, Bondage

Writing with Scarlet, by Axolu (Masturbation, Bondage)

Harmony trailed her hooves along her keyboard, her ears flicking to the click-clack-click of her keys as she stared at the screen, the window—her story.

Her cheeks tinted red, the always needy mare breathed out with a shudder that led her hooves to type line after line, wonderful idea after terribly wonderful idea. Her hind legs shifted over her seat, spreading her arousal across its warm, soft padding. Harmony gazed at her words again, then blushed warmer, slipping one of her hooves along the fur of her thighs. A little stroke down, a little stroke up. Another stroke down, harder. She could type with one hoof… Just, slower.

If only Mistress were here to watch her. The mare shook her head, huffing. She just had to focus.

Somepony behind her softly gasped, like the gasp of a filly that just found her favorite doll. “There you are, my little plaything,” Mistress said, her hoofsteps faint on the carpet. Harmony jumped in her seat, forcing her hoof to press against her wet folds—this forced a moan to press against her lips. Harmony tightened her legs around the edge of her seat, trying to keep Mistress from noticing her arousal dripping down onto the floor. She needed to write. She needed Mistress. She needed both.

“Y-yes, Mistress. Your slave is,” she paused to let out another breath, ”writing the next chapter, Mistress.”

But Mistress, ever knowing, slid a hoof down her toy’s side, down, down to her slick foalhole. Harmony clenched her thighs together and bit her lip, folding her ears back. “Hmmm, this looks like more than writing the next chapter,” she said—her plaything knew Mistress was smirking wide without even needing to look back.

“I… yes, Mistress. Your slave was en… enjoying its own writing.” Harmony turned her head towards Mistress. Mistress pressed a hoof firmly to her little slave’s cheek, keeping her from looking back any further.

“Oh, no, keep writing. I have just the thing for you…” Mistress rubbed her cheek. Harmony didn’t dare look back, her eyes locked on her screen even as she heard Mistress’ hoofsteps leading from the room. She sped through her next paragraph, then halfway through another. Mistress never told her to stop making her creative juices flow. The little slave bit her lip, a little harder as she wrote the next line. She closed her eyes tight and opened her mouth to let out a longing moan, then closed her mouth down on—she snapped open her eyes, resting her mouth on a firm rubber tube, large enough to fit one of Mistress’ favored toys.

Mistress’ favorite toy leaned forwards, slipping her tongue through the tube and sliding on until her muzzle fit snugly into the pad at the end. She swiveled her ears towards Mistress, who firmly tugged the straps of the gag around Harmony’s head.

“Test your bell.”

One ring, clear as a clocktower’s bell, filled the room.

Mistress spread her slave’s hooves apart, gently tying a thick band from each of her cuffs to rings bolted to the table. “ ’ahstress?” Harmony whimpered through her gag. Her hooves tugged against the rings, testing them, not struggling. Then Mistress slid her hoof down again, where another hoof was before, and stroked her slave, deliberately slow, barely brushing her soaked lips. Harmony shuddered.

“I love seeing you write, so tonight I want to savor it.” Mistress poked something against her little plaything’s tongue—a closed pen. “That means you’re typing with this.” Mistress teased her plaything’s desperate little clit and twisted hard, just like she knew she loved, forcing out a scream—like a siren’s call, to her. The needy slave, drooling in her pleasure, quickly pressed her tongue up, trapping the pen between it and the tube’s ceiling. “And if you drop it, or stop writing…” Her cruel Mistress pulled her hoof away. Harmony clenched down on nothing and whined through her gag.

Mistress pressed her hoof back. “Write well, my little plaything.”

Yaks are Yak by Lord Nobady (Bondage, Temperature Play)

Author's Note

Written by the talented Lord Nobady! Be sure to visit his page and give him a follow as thanks!

Featuring the editing talents of Javarod, tommal

Contains: Ice, Bondage, Ice, Cold/Heat play, Ice, Some mild spanking and Ice lots of Ice

Yaks are Yak by Lord Nobady (Bondage, Temperature Play)

Yakyakistan

After a long journey, Enchanting Sapphire entered Yakyakistan with his two new wives, Small Weed and Rain Bringer. Taking a tour of the town they enjoyed the simple wooden huts and the decorated gate. Following the tour they traveled to a small restaurant and shared a romantic dinner. In the wake of the meal, they made for the big campfire in the center of town to share in the storytelling and the drinking of cider. At the time it went dark, they went the the inn and put their stuff away. When they heard a single bell toll, they went to the Clocktower site.

After passing through security, Enchanting Sapphire enters the Clocktower Yakyakistan site with his two slaves, Small Weed and Rain Bringer. He stops in the entrance hall to study the ice carved map and browsed the souvenir shop. After buying some souvenirs he walks to the entrance of the play area with his slaves on his heels.

At the bottom of a large set of stairs he looked upon a door in the shape of a collar and a big arch leading to a balcony overviewing a big cave. With a nudge and a wave he sent his slaves to the collaring chamber, and follows after them through the beautifully decorated ice door. Inside, he finds some lockers to keep his belongings and a beautifully decorated collaring block made from crystal clear ice. After grabbing a finely decorated wooden box from his saddlebags, he placed the box on a small table. He then put his saddlebags in a free locker together with those of his slaves. Opening the wooden box with his pipsub, it revealed a mask and two similar collars.

He grabs his mask from the box and looks at it in wonder, as if he still couldn’t believe that this white and adamantite beauty is his. It has a nice swirling pattern with a blue border and gold details. The two medallions on it showing the cutie-marks of his slaves tingle as he puts it on. Two small chimes, one from each of his slaves signal that they are ready.

After putting his mask on, he grabs one of the collars, an Adamantite collar with a gold band. He signals Weed to the collaring block and puts the collar on the purple unicorn. After he locks it, he signals her to stand aside.

Rain Bringer takes her pace on the block while enthusiastically fluttering her wings. He slowly puts the other adamantite collar on the mint green pegasus.

Grabbing his Heraldry Medallion and putting the necklace over his head, he closes the box and puts it with is saddlebags. With the collaring done and his slaves ready, Sapphire now walks to the cavern followed closely by his slaves.

Once he enters the main cavern, he stops to admire the view from the balcony. Beneath him is an ice world lit with a cool blue. The guild buildings were built with ice walls that were just clear enough to show that there were ponies and yaks inside, while not revealing who they were.

Looking to the horizon there is a half cock half vagina building. “I see they don’t have enough ponies for a split cock and cunt worshiping guild,” Weed jabbed, “I don't think we will find much fun at the genital worshiping guild here.”

“Look at that building over there, it looks like an ice cube on fire. Seems they know what is going on,” Rain added.

“Mmmm yes I can use some cooling,” Weed spoke sensuously while staring dreamingly at the burning cube.

When they were done admiring the view, they walked down to the slave pasture, to find a willing slave for some play.

While they were walking to the slave pasture, a broad yak guard with a beautiful dark brown coat approached them. The guard started to examine the crests on the crystal heraldry medallion, each symbolizing an art Sapphire was skilled in. After studying the medallion the guard asked, “What type of play do you want for today?” After Sapphire explained what they are looking for, the guard points them to a niche in the pasture, “You will find the toys you want there.”

Signaling his slaves to wait while he grabs today's toy, he walks over to the niche the guard pointed him to.

After a look around, he notices that indeed all the subs here are into the kink they want to enjoy tonight. Spotting a beautiful yak submissive with a nice light brown coat and a slim frame, he walks up to her just as a gryphon offers her a lease. When she accepted, he knew he was too late for today and started looking around. Spotting a white collared pink crystal mare he walks up to her.

“I want you to join me and my slaves in some play tonight,” He spoke harshly. “What is your name?”

“I.. I am Morganite, I am a lost slave looking for a master,” Morganite spoke.

“I can be your master for tonight. If we both want to continue after that, we can talk about longer relationships,” he said.

“What do you want to do to me tonight?” Morganite asked.

Sapphire explained what he was planning.

“Master, please take me with you” Morganite almost shouted in her enthusiasm.

“Follow me, toy,” Sapphire ordered. Morganite followed Sapphire to the exit where his slaves were waiting on him.

“Rain, Weed, meet our toy. Toy, meet Rain Bringer and Small Weed,” he says, introducing them. “Rain, Weed, make sure she does not run away.” With Sapphire in the lead and Rain and Weed squeezing Morganite between their flanks while following Saphire, they start to walk deeper in the cave.

A small walk to a suitable dungeon later, they enter the room. The room is made from beautifully decorated ice, with a temperature just above freezing. In the corner was a enchanted bucket of ice cubes and a enchanted fire pit. The enchantments would make sure that the toys would be the perfect temperature for play. The door at the other end lead to a similar room with the only difference being that one was heated to just above body temperature and lit a soft red. In the center of both was and big wooden table with shackles.

Signaling Rain to tie up Morganite, he started to inspect the tool rack, grabbing a vibrator and some small stones in his magic which he places in the fire. Grabbing a blindfold with his hoof he walked over to the tied up mare and gave her a tiny smile.

Fastening the blindfold he whispered in her ear, ”You are mine, all mine. Remember that and you will know pleasure, forget it and you will only know pain.“ A pleasant shiver of anticipation ran through Morganite. ”Oh, I am so going to enjoy your moans of pleasure or screams for mercy.“

Walking to her rear he spoke, ”Weed, give me some warm up tools.“

”Yes master,“ Weed answered and grabbed a flogger from the rack. ”Here you are master.“

Taking the flogger in his hoof he commanded, ”Morganite, test your bell.“ A clear chime filled the room. ”Good, let's begin.“ He spoke while using the flogger to get a clear view of her wet and blinking pussy. Taking a deep sniff, he inhaled the sweet scent of her marehood. Letting down her tail again he give her a quick strike on the flank with the flogger.

”Aarg,“ she screamed, ”More Master, warm me up Master.“

Giving in to her demands he gives her an quick strike on her other flank. Striking her flanks a few more times while listening to her screams of pleasure and pain, he grabs a couple of ice cubes in his magic and after the last strike he places one on each of her teats and one on her blinking clit. A scream of surprise and pained pleasure followed.

Dropping the cube on her clit while moving the other two over her flank he uses his hoof to pull her tail aside. Lining his cock with her marehood he slowly rubs the top of his cock with her lips.

”Take me Master,“ she shouted, ”Make me your cum-dump!“

In a single swift movement he pushes in his whole cock to the hilt, and started pumping into her while stimulating her flanks with the ice cubes. When he felt that he was almost there, he placed the two ice cubes on her teats. At the moment he felt his first load coming he switched them out for two hot stones.

At this point Morganite screamed in pain and started cumming while her cunt started milking Sapphire’s penis. Weed having noticed her Master was almost there, had crawled under the table and started licking the mare and stallion cum that leaked out. Rain used this distraction to sneak up on Weed from behind and put a small cooled vibrator to her blinking marehood. In response Weed started cumming while moaning into her master’s cum covered balls.

When he was done he pulled out and walked to Morganite’s head to mount her there. ”C...Clockface,“ Morganite stumbled.

Sapphire stepped back. ”What is it? To rough? To fast?“

”No, just that the way you stimulate my body gives me uncontrollable movements. I already bit my tongue and I don't want that to happen to you. I think it is better to use a gag,“ Morganite quietly stated.

”Thanks for the warning dear,“ Sapphire said while stroking her on her head before he started walking to the wall with toys.

”Clockface,” Morganite uttered.

”Clockface,“ Rain answered.

”Clockface,“ Weed replied.

”Clockface,“ Sapphire said.

Grabbing a ring gag he walks to Morganite’s head. ”Open up,“ he says and puts the gag in her mouth. After this he starts to mount her head again. Slowly going in and out while Morganite is gently trying to lick the last bit of cum from it.

Accepting two ice cube from Rain he nods for her to start. While Sapphire continues to go deeper and deeper with each thrust while using the ice cubes to sensuously rub Morganite’s neck, Rain uses an ice cube to tease her marehood. The moans of pleasure from Morganite massages his dick while the teasing from Rain are puts her on edge. Weed on the other hand has grabbed a vibrating ice dildo and, as a surprise, inserts it in Rain's pussy, causing Rain to let out a moan of pleasure.

When Sapphire is close, he hilts out in Morganite’s throat while giving Rain a signal to remove the ice cube and press a heated vibrator to her clit. That pushes Morganite over the edge, the massage from the scream is the last bit that Sapphire needs to cum. With the sight and smell of the two of them cumming Rain can't hold it anymore and starts cumming too, quickly followed by Weed who has been massaging herself.

With this over, the adrenaline starts to wear off and everypony is cooling down from the sweat. At that moment, Sapphires pip starts to give an alarm that Morganites body temperature is getting low. Undoing her bindings, the four of them go to the nearest aftercare room to calm down and warm up.

”Weed,“ Sapphire spoke, ”Get us some hot chocolate.“ Weed put on an aftercare robe and walked away to get the requested drinks.

In the aftercare room Morganite grabbed a nice large and comfortable blanket before settling down next to Sapphire. Rain set down on the other side of Sapphire to share the warmth and the blanket.

Weed came back a moment later with four mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. After distributing them, Sapphire cuddled down by Rain and shared in the blanket.

While Morganite was cuddling Sapphire and drinking her hot chocolate she murmured, ”This was the best session I had in a long time. Can I join you as one of your slaves?“

”What do you girls think? Is she worthy of a try?“ Sapphire asked.

”Yes,“ Rain almost screamed.

”I think so if she is willing to live by the rules,“ Weed said quietly.

”Rules?“ Morganite asked. ”What are those rules?“

”A yes the rules,“ Sapphire started to explain, ”Let's go over them before we make decisions.Rule number one: If you want to join us permanently in the Society, we want you to join us in life outside of Society too, which means that you will need to move down to Hooferville just south west of Canterlot, just past Ponyville. Rule number two: As long as you are my slave, serving me inside the Society will be your priority. Only with my permission or when I am not available you are allowed to find others for your needs.

Rule number three: You will find a job or will otherwise be occupied when we are not at the Society.Rule number four: You must be willing to accept other members in our herd. All current members decide if a new member is accepted. Rule number five: You will accept that not all of my time will be spent with only you. Rule number six: You must do one session as a dom, including the requisite training. This is so you know what the dom sees and does not see. This way, there is a better understanding on how to give signals without the need to stop.If you can live with those rules, then we will go and invite you at our place to see if you are a good match.“

”I accept those rules. I have nothing but bad memories in the Empire and was looking for a way out of it. This is a better way for me than I could have done myself,“ Morganite says. ”Only I don't know if my skills as a miner and a slave are of much help for finding a job. Especially one with a view of the sky.“

”Then it is decided,“ Sapphire stated, ”After or return from our honeymoon, we will contact you. If by then you are still interested we will start to arrange things for your move to Hooferville. Also, we will help you find a good job.“

Pulling out their pipsubs, they exchanged contact information, then Sapphire and his two slaves made their way back to the collaring chamber to collect their belongings after putting their collars and his mask away. After this they went back to the inn in Yakyakistan.

The Perfect Tour-ture by Silent Whisper (A Guided Tour of Clocktower Society)

Author's Note

Written by our resident kinkbug, Silent Whisper, who is presently in the process of writing her own independent entry into the CTS universe. Be sure to give her a follow to make sure you don't miss her story when it hits the shelves!

Featuring the editing talents of about half of the Society's members, with major contribution from Pretty Penne, Manifest Harmony, Fuzzy Fabricator, Seraphem and Axolu.

Contains lots of lewd snarky brattiness.

The Perfect Tour-ture by Silent Whisper (A Guided Tour of Clocktower Society)

“Hello and welcome to Clocktower! I’m Silent Whisper, and I’ll be handling your tour today! It’s nice to see all sorts of ponies here, as well as some griffons, ooh, and another changeling. Hello, there! You’re from Hive Tempest, aren’t you? How nice, I’ve heard good things about them. Now, follow me, and feel free to ask me anything you wish.”

“What was that? Oh no, for goodness sakes, I’m not going to chain you to the dungeons and let the big, scary doms use you for their pleasure. I’m not that mean. Not yet, at least. You’d have to ask nicely… while kneeling. What? No no no, not here! I meant later, dearie. Remind me later, alright?”

“Over here, we have the staircases. We’ll be going down the first level shortly, but first I’m delighted to show you around the main level. Congratulations, by the way, on being accepted into the Society. I’m glad the paperwork didn’t screw you over, unless that’s your thing. Hey, I don’t judge.”

“What– what are you doing? Hey, newpon, stop flirting with the members! Yes, that maid counts as a member, she works here... just like me.”

“And just like me, she isn’t getting paid for… what? Oh, nothing.”

“Now, to your left we have the different gift shops. Most of them sell novelty-type things, which is great, but if I were you I’d save up for toys that are more than novelty. I’ve heard CTRL has made one that looks like a featherduster, but feels like a wing. I suppose that’s as close as someponies get to ‘using the whole pegasus’, isn’t it? Their loss, I prefer the real thing.”

“Yes? A question? Ah, the changeling! So nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Misty Step? Nice name. Do you trip a lot? Get it, Missed-da-step, Misty Step, heh… nevermind. Couldn’t help it, honest.”

“That’s a great question! Depends on what type of ‘toy’ you’d like to be! I know some ponies are into that, literally. Heh, you give me that look, but I know plenty who are into it. Just ask my marefriend, she loves plushification. Aw, and she’s so cute as a snuggly plush, too. If you don’t like that, try being made art. There was this particularly pretty slavemare who was on display not too long ago. Ah, I can see that appeals to you over there, sir. I’ll get you in touch with her after the tour, feel free to give her a swish~”

“To the right, we have the viewing galleries, for all your voyeuristic needs. I– oh, hold on a moment. Sir! Ma’am! I think that counts as extreme play! Find a room with a drain please, and get a maid to clean that up. Sir, I didn’t think that much cum was possible, but now that’s a slipping hazard.”

“Ahem, where was I? Ah, yes, we’re now going down a level, and seeing some of the other wonderful places that Clocktower East has to offer! We’ve got the Slave Pens, Pet Town, the City… any takers? Yes to all three? We’d better hurry, then, if we want to see it all. Don’t forget to stay as group! So come quickly so that we can finish together. Heh, pun mostly intended.”

“Sir, what did I say about flirting with members? Step away from that pathetic cocksleeve and leave it be. You don’t know where it’s been. I mean, I do, I talked to its dom as it was being set up there this morning, but that’s beside the point. You’re on a tour, so keep walking, see the sights, and keep your cock to yourself.”

“Over here, we have the Slave Pens. Don’t they make the sweetest sound, moaning almost in harmony? I’ve heard you can buy the soundtrack in that gift shop. You’ve got to admit, it makes you all warm and wet inside and you just wanna reach into one of those cages and pull out a needy little slave to use all night long… No? It’s not just me, is it? Ah, good, yes, thank you, ma’am. I see you’re blushing, but that only means you were honest. Of course you can take one of those little toys out of their boxes to amuse yourself, but not on tour time!”

“Any questions as we head over to Pet Town?”

“You want to know about my collar? It’s black, with all three bands on it, and silver studs. Means I’m fine with almost anything, with pretty much anypony. I still have limits… at least a few of them…”

“You want to know if it’ll… what? If it’ll fit the throat bulge I’ll be getting when the stallions come to take turns on… ah. Mechanically, yes, the collars are padded, and will accommodate that. It doesn’t mean the stallions won’t feel the tight band press against their thick members as they ravage my throat. Does that answer your question? Hm, I can see by your blush that it does.”

“Yes? Another collar question? Oh, you were pointing at my sticker. Yes, for those in the back, it says ‘Head Bitch.’ It was a gift from a friend, and a title I wear proudly. I am a brat, and proud, and this is my self-appointed title. It’s a hierarchy made by ponies playfully teasing each other. If you ever meet a certain red-maned slave, what’s-his-name, Squeakins? He’s Bottom Bitch. Don’t worry, he likes it.”

“No, it does not mean that I am the bitch that’ll give head. On a completely unrelated note, don’t ask my Master whether or not I am willing to give head to anypony who asks. Because he’s mean and unfair and would totally make me tell the truth… right after he breaks me, and he’s already done that this week. I don’t have the stamina to stay up almost all night again. Thank you for your attention.”

“And up ahead, we have Pet Town, where a sub can be any animal they please. And I mean any. I’ve met this little pegasus who wished to be a bird, and now she sings for us all the time! She’s sweet as cherries, let me tell you that. Over to the right, we have the residential areas, for anypony who wants a genuine CTS pet experience, complete with doghouses, and stocks and pillories for when you’re in the doghouse. It’s nice. To the right we’ve got a dog park… yes, you have a question?”

“Yes, owners may fuck their pets in the park. In fact, we’ve had to reinforce some of the trees, because of how vigorously some good little pets get fucked against them. Not to mention that hanging-from-a-tree-limb blowjob thing some of those batponies are into doing… They’re now strong enough to hold up an alicorn princess, though I haven’t heard whether or not we’ve tested that rumor yet. I must say, I’m just thankful CTRL are so patient with the abuse our poor plants have gone through. On that note, I’ve heard a rumor that some ponies wish to be plants. I’m proud to say, here at CTS we don’t mind what you’d like to be. If you’ve got a fantasy, and it follows the whole safe, sane, consensual guidelines, we’ll do our best to fulfill it. Even if said fantasy is being a tree, which is, I must say, one of the few times you’d be grateful for morning wood. Heh.”

“What? Oh, yes, you can also be fucked by plants. Those are the tentacles, they’re not on the tour. I’m sure I know a few who’d be happy to show you where the pits are. I’ve heard it’s even become a ritual to throw newponies into them…”

“We’re moving on now, towards the City, a rape-play area that’s grown in popularity since- hey, you! What did I say about fucking the members? I don’t care what the box says, you’re on tour, you’re not to fuck the abandoned pet! Pay them no mind, everypony, if you’d like one you can always come back, there’s always a pet or four looking for a good home and a good rutting.”

“I swear, that newpony makes me want to stab somepony with a pen. You know, I’m sure there’s somepony who’s into that…”

“Any other questions as we make our way to the City? My my, there are quite a bunch of them. Alright, where to begin. You, little miss?”

“Yes, I know a changeling Queen here who enjoys that sort of thing. Eggs aren’t just for pegabirbs like yourself, after all, and laying them can be quite a transformative experience for just about any species… and any gender. Anypony else?”

“Diamond dogs? I’ve met a few. Taking them is knot too much of a problem, if you know how to prepare.”

“Yes, there are clothing fetishes, and places to cater to them, if you’re into that. I’ve met a few pretty fillies who are into diapers. Hey, I don’t judge that. I’ve also met a cute femcolt who enjoys ribbons wrapped around… pretty much everything. He’s an absolutely intimidating dom though, so long as he isn’t wearing a bow on his head! I jest, I jest, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Temperature play is most definitely a thing here! In fact, I’ve heard there’s a pony who’s partially made of fire! We’ve also got hellhounds here, and everything from ice to waxplay to electricity. I’ve heard, if you’re not expecting it, that experience can be quite shocking. Anypony? No? Look, if you wanted a tour guide that didn’t make jokes, you should have picked one who didn’t have a thing for punishment.”

“What? A vibrator? Where? That’s… you’re totally seeing things. There’s no vibrator in me, and that’s definitely not a perk of the job. Any buzzing noise you hear must be… bees. Kinky bees.”

“... Yes. Breezies, sure, blame it on them. There is a part of clocktower for those who like that sort of size difference. I, of course, have no size kink whatsoever. Hey, you! Stop your snickering.”

“Welcome to the City, everypony! There are cafes and shops and apartments and creepy alleyways and fenced-off roads and rape! Well, it’s all consensual. And the best part is, if you’re not a dom, there’s no map, so if you get lost, good luck. Of course, I know a few ponies who get lost on purpose, just to see what they can find. One of them found a sex cult, another found a factory… not that kind of factory, ma’am, please stop that humming! No, for your information, Cloudsdale does not have a branch of Clocktower. That would be a nightmare, besides, how would clouds be underground? Would they just be concealed by fog? Anyways, the City’s where most predator/prey play occurs… though if you want to really feel like prey, I’m sure there are dragons that can help with that.”

“For Celestia’s-- Sir. Her mouth. That cock. Out. Now. You’re on a tour, and… yes, she’s a red collar with silver studs, and yes, she’s whimpering now, and presenting quite nicely - looking good, darling, keep that tail flagged! - but you gotta let her go. We’ve got to complete the tour, back up at the visitor centre. We’re not allowed to let ponies just wander around anymore, not after what happened a few weeks ago. Oh, you didn’t hear? We had an important guest, some sort of nobility, and she never showed up for her tour. That poor mare who was missing her tour group got quite the lashing.”

“Lucky pony, I quite enjoy a good lashing, my- ah, Master turned up my vibra- um, the bees have gotten louder. Let’s move quickly back to the visitor centre, okay? Any other q-questions along the way?”

“Y-yes? Oh you can do wh-whatever you’d like after we’re done, okay? I’ve g-g-got to go tell Master why this was a b-bad idea…”

“Almost th-there, everypony. If anypony asked, you met your tour guide, and went on your tour, and nothing suspicious -hah- happened. I… what was that? Another question?”

“Oh, you. The troublemaker. What is it? We’re almost there, c-can’t you wait a little longer? I…”

“What? Am I a real tour guide? I… um… look, this was Master’s idea, okay? Not mine. Whatever they say, just… make it sound like I did her job, okay? Honestly, I did such a great job, SP-0872 should be thanking me, no matter what happens, no matter what wonderful punishment she’ll get when they find out I stole her tour group. I did her duty for her, and I d-did it much better than… hey, sir, back up please, I… Um, yes, my studs are silver, but…”

“You want me to present? Hmm… I might… but you see, if you remember from the tour, I am a bit of a bratty sub, and you’re just a new member. Think of this as a bit of a location pop-quiz, with a fun little twist.”

“You want me to submit? You’re just gonna have to catch me.”

Everypony Wants to be a Pet, by Troposphere (A Really Fun Song)

Author's Note

Written by CTS Veteran author Troposphere, author of the super popular Dominant Creed. If you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for, go check it out and give Troposphere a much-deserved follow!

Everypony Wants to be a Pet, by Troposphere (A Really Fun Song)

Sung to the above tune~

Everypony wants to be a pet
'Cause as a pet, you're in the set
Who know what they get
Gags and whips and manacles are all fine and good
But bellyrubs, that's my kind of lewd.

Vanilla caresses
Are seldom excesses
That bring me joy.
But you can send me a page
When you've got me a cage
And a squeaky toy!

I've heard some broken birds are into kink
Still a pet's the one who gets
It all in a blink.
Why should it take a slap to make your nethers wet
When everypony wants to be a pet?