And lo, they learned new ways of revelry and despair.
this is easily going to be my most horrific work to date. I am DEAD serious, this is not for the faint of heart or weak of constitution. It delves in matters I detest, not as a means of fetish, but as what they are: horrors. You have been warned.
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Under the blue skies of a new day, ponies toiled in silence, eyes desperately fixed on their plants or plows or hammers, anything to even appear busy and avoid the daughters gaze. Smiling, her fur a blue so soft as to be nearly white, her gown unblemished as she meandered about the summer squash, she smiled brightly at the rib skinny indentured, her eyes blazing in compassion and her voice as soft and smooth as silk. Its resonance sent a shiver of dread through each soul there. There were no names for they, those they lost their first step upon there captors. No hope of rescue from Followers or the Light Bringers acolytes, for the manors lord held audience with ones who would paint a white circle over a bed post in the night... and the beds occupant was to be servant in the house for that day. Few returned from the mansion duty, but those few who did said little save for mumblings over a jade statue with ponies faces who whispered and seemed to see ones every move, their mere gaze violating... a sample of what the master would partake in once the audience was ended for the night. Mares, stallions, colts or fillies, young or old, lame or well, any who stayed the night instead of vanishing or returning before the dusk were all the same... tear stained cheeks, dead eyes, and not any visible injury. But what was done in those halls left those sorry ponies only one last desire: to lay in the surrounding woods and wait for death.
None had ever seen the master though save the dead and his family and acolytes. His family, beauties all, fair and soft spoken, although the mother was a sight. whose genteel givings poorly masked the desire of the two stallions and the daughter and wife to rape and torture any who caught their eye. All dreaded the sons, and no mare escaped their notice for long, but their relatively quick takings were but cuddles compared to the mothers whims. Unlike her children, her body was bent and twisted in her pursuits, her scars glaring under a grey coat, her horn her only saving. Where weren't scars, new injuries were made, infected and some squirming with their maggot occupants, her face in a permanent rictus grin since much of lips had been ripped away, apparently chewed off by the bride groom on their wedding night. This knowledge was less troubling to most then the fact the lady could regale them with her first time completely coherently, her every diction crisp and with a soft southern accent despite the facial damage.
But the daughter... her favorite were the young ones. While not averse to an older pony from time to time, she had more often taken any new colt of young age, ones who were old enough to know what she was doing but to young too not blame themselves or shut down completely, were an irresistable pleasure. All had been returned, clean and fed, but none returned from her whole.
But today, she was stopped short. Tsking softly, she walked towards the watermelons with a sad shake of her head as her day was soured.
"Foolish colt... He was becoming such a attentive consort, I stop when he starts to cramp, and this..."
Brow arched regally over a ice blue eye, the mare tapped her hoof on the spot where it was supposed to be, WHERE HER PROPERTY WAS MEANT TO BE... closing her eyes, the daughter took a breath, then gave a contented sigh. Turning back to the throng, she was pleased to seen none had left their duties, but each ear was in her direction, waiting...
"Well... no matter. Why cry over spilled milk I say. May the colts father step forward please."
A massive stallion rushed from a small green house, his eyes darting as he slowed to stand in front of the daughter of the master, and pulling his gatsby from his head, he gulped before saying "My lady... I swear, I told the boy not..."
Giggling softly, the mare gave the stallion a boop, wrinkling her nose as his eyes crossed and his piss threatened to burst in his fear, and said gently "You silly billy. I expect no less then the best from a good colt who knows his place... but that boy..."
"I'll... I'll see to it milady. Spare the rod as they say... and he'll be lucky I don't strip his hide completely this time..."
"No no. Get Gregory and his boys on it."
At this the stallion blanched, his breath catching. Gregory, the younger twin... exclusively a colt fondler with a real soft spot for gold manes... like his son. And his boys... somehow Gregory had saved a litter of diamond dog pups years before, and had spent his ample free hours not taken up with ruining another child in the pens and huts in the manor back, training and drilling his now completey adoring and loyal pets to perfection, as well as giving them a taste for bed mates as their patron. More then a few times a scratched and bloated youngster corpse had been tossed before their mothers or fathers feet, the pack smirking and bragging of the deed as any who could feel to their knees and wept, while the rest just regarded the body with a detached sadness before they threw it to a furnace, or if permitted, a timed digging of a shallow grave. And as the dirt fell in on their blood, all could only envy one who could not feel pain... and hope a claw or knife knicked a neck vein or they fell to exhaustion instead of their childs end.
As the lady turned to go, the stallion had begun to gasp as panic. No, not him... he was a favorite toy, a hard worker, never had even given a whimper or whine. Yes, he ran, but this... surely a beating or the box, but this... sitting back on his haunches, the stallion began ringing his gatsby hat in his his hooves as his breath quickened. Images flashed through his mind, old friends years passed and the shells who walked from a ditch where lay Gregory's latest catch, the father merely falling silent till his death while the mother merely sat in a corner and began giggling as she wept, sometimes breaking into a lullaby or fairy tale from time to time, slowly wasting away in that corner, rocking in place as she repeated another ballad of goodnight moon.
Taking a desperate gasp, the stallion fell to his side, and biting down on his hat, wailed. As the overseers ran towards him, he gave another shriek, then lay still, eyes bulging as his heart finally popped in its bony housing.
And in the woods, the colt ran. He knew not where. And through the crisp morning, the sound of hounds sounded. The hunt was on.
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Humming as she wandered the surprisingly warm halls of the manor, the colors a soothing blue throughout, the daughters ears quirked as muffled grunts echoed through passages, and eyes widening, the mare heart quickened in joy. It couldn't be... teleporting her dress back onto its hangar, she rushed the rest of her journey to her sires room, her eyes beginning to leak with happiness as she burst through the double doors to the master bedroom... and beheld her father hilting into a gagged mare.
Eyes roaming over the stallion, the mare bit her lip. His skull sat exposed atop his neck as though his skin had simply given up trying to form over it, the bones whiteness gleaming in the candle light as his one eye, a vibrant green, shined with joy as he thrust into the muffled shrieking meat beneath him, the other socket bearing a green flame which flickered in the movement. Exposed chest bone jerked over the mares back as the underside was bare of flesh and muscle, exposing the bearing and ribs, and through it one could see the lungs as they quickened in their duty. Much of his upper half had been left untouched, but his... quivering, his daughter choked back a sob as her radiant fathers balls seemed to swell, his grunts become near whinnies as he neared. As his movements reached fever levels, the mare began to thrash, as though in anticipation, as though in knowing what was coming was worse then what was happening, her eyes rolling backwards as he lunged forward and grabbed and mouthful of mane and pulled.
The mares hooves thumped up and down in their shackles and his balls shrunk, and releasing her mane, the stallion cooed "My sweet filly... you were so brave this whole time... see, was that so bad?"
Shivering as her still crooning father began to slowly put out, the daughter raised a hoof and gently bit into her fetlock as his glory made its way out, its flesh marked with gouges and scars, a knot at its base swelling back into the flesh as the head and flare was jerked away, and out it gushed. Jet black, her fathers seed splattered across the wooden floor, the mares sobs quieting as her eyes closed. Turning to his foal, the master smiled warmly, and both walking forward, the two kissed, tongue dancing over each and across their throat, the mare quivering as the sweetness of honey filled her palate, her tail flagging as he pinned her tongue... then pouted as he pulled away. But in moments, the pout faded as the other mare stirred. Doing a joyful hoof dance in place, the eldest filly lept to her newest family members side, nuzzling her encouragingly.
"Did it work? Do you belong then?"
As the mare rose, the first daughter undid her gag... and was immediately brought into the new filly's embrace and kiss, their fathers leavings smooshed between them as his first born was dragged bodily into the earth mares new revelry for lust.
"Well... I'll take that as a yes then. Welcome home little girl."
Author's Note
Yes, another story, yes I have too many. But Joshua will be the last of the stand alones, and I felt the need to write at one, or at most, two chapters on where he'd been in the interim between his rescue and his Followers tenure.
I'm editing the second chapter as we speak.
